Wishes Washed Away
ten.
"Where's Thom?" Brendon asks ten minutes into our polite conversation while eating salad. "Didn't he say he'd be here?"
"He couldn't make it dear; he's having...problems with his fiance, Candace." Mrs. Urie frowns. "It's so sad; five years into a relationship, and he still has no idea that refusing to listen to her problems is a no-no." She takes a sip of her wine. "But Brendon, I'm so happy you found someone. I'm sick of you being...single, on the market, and never looking for anyone to be with." Mrs. Urie beams at me, and I smile right back. It's easy to look pretty and pretend to be warm and charming. "But you've finally found someone wonderful."
"Thanks, mom." Brendon drapes an arm on my chair reluctantly. I can feel the tension in his arm as it lingers on the wooden frame. I pull his hand onto my shoulder; I hope his heart is pounding like crazy. "But enough about us. How've you two been?"
"Wonderful!" Mrs. Urie exclaims as Mr. Urie scarfs down the salad. I see our waiter coming with our entreés, and Brendon does not seem all too excited. I stroke his hand.
"Bren, hon, what's the matter?" I give him a concerned look. My face hurts. "Are you okay? You look sick."
"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry, but I have to speak to Magnolia in private." He grabs my hand and yanks me passed the tables, navigating me to the restroom hallway. He points a finger at my face. "Look, Maggie, I don't appreciate this whole...'buttering my parents up' business. You don't even like me! What's the point in making my parents like you! What if they find out we're not actually dating? Then you'd be making a huge issue for me! I'll be burned at the stake by my own mother!" Brendon shouts silently, making big hand gestures.
"That's real great, Bren, but your parents are nice. They're a sweet little couple, so let's get back to the table so I can eat dinner." I turn to leave, but he grasps my hand. "What do you want? I thought you were done talking."
"I definitely wasn't," Brennie replies, brows furrowed. Oh no, Maggie's scared!
"Didn't you bring me along for a reason?"
"Yeah, but turn the charm off. I don't want them to barate me once they realize we're not together." Brendon leaves his arm out towards me. "Ready to go back to dinner, with the charm at a minimum?"
I shrug. "I can't turn the charm off, Brennie. It's a part of me. If you didn't want someone charming, you shouldn't have brought me." I hook my arm around his, and we waltz out together, our lips tightly squeezing out smiles.
"Are you children all right?" Mr. Urie asks, wolfing down his steak. Mr. Urie is a man's man; half the 16 ounce steak is gone, leaving him with mostly his side dish. Mrs. Urie daintly picks at her fish as Brendon and I pick up our forks, ready to devour our entreés.
"Oh, we're fine, dad. We just had to talk about where to put our dog," he replies, slicing his asparagus. "Poor thing doesn't really have a place to go at the moment; he keeps peeing on the carpet."
"You should really get that thing trained!" Mrs. Urie cries, horrified. "A soiled carpet is a useless carpet."
"Kit's going to sleep outside at this rate. That crazy little beagle is just ruining the floor." I shake my head, raising the chicken into my mouth. Mrs. Urie makes tsking noises as Brendon squeezes my hand under the table--a silent "thank you".
As we finish our entreés, the waiter brings the dessert. We delicately eat raspberry cheesecake, chatting politely about Brendon's career and how we met. We pretend we bumped into each other at the airport, falling for each other at once. "A true Cinderella story", as Mrs. Urie put it. I don't find anything magical about meeting at an airport, but...I suppose it's romantic, for some women.
We finish, and Mr. Urie pays the bill, Brendon protesting. We graciously thank the Uries for the expensive and delicious meal we had, parting ways outside the quaint French restaurant. Brennie and I climb into his Volvo and drive back home, pretending that we need to check on Kit the beagle.
"Kit? Couldn't you have come up with a better name?" Brendon stomps on the break as we come to a red light.
"I was thinking of Kit Carson, the explorer. Decent name for a dog," I reply, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "Besides, be lucky I was even agreeing with your stupid escuse." I pause. "Does this mean we need to get a dog?"
"No. Once you leave, I'll just tell them you took Kit with you." He continues his way home, mouth clamped shut. Once at the house, we silently walk in, murmuring "good night" to each other. Upon entering my room, Brendon yells for me downstairs.
"What!" I shout back, trudging back down the stairs. I comb my hair as he sits down at the kitchen table. "Are we having another talk?"
"Look, Maggie, I..." He grabs a fistful of hair. "I don't know how to break this to you." He glances outside, looking out at his barren backyard, the yellow grass and wilted maple tree in the distance. "I think..." Brendon's voice trails off.
I sit down. "Continue," I demand.
"Well, maybe I do want you to charm my parents, for them to like you. I don't want to end up like my brother, chasing after his girl because he doesn't know a thing about her. Maybe...maybe I actually want to understand you. Maybe that's why I take you places, let you meet my family and friends." Brendon winces. "I may be completely wrong, but...
"I might actually like you."
Give me insane.
Flash.
Give me lies.
Flash.
Give me "Brendon, you're making me sick".
Flash.
"He couldn't make it dear; he's having...problems with his fiance, Candace." Mrs. Urie frowns. "It's so sad; five years into a relationship, and he still has no idea that refusing to listen to her problems is a no-no." She takes a sip of her wine. "But Brendon, I'm so happy you found someone. I'm sick of you being...single, on the market, and never looking for anyone to be with." Mrs. Urie beams at me, and I smile right back. It's easy to look pretty and pretend to be warm and charming. "But you've finally found someone wonderful."
"Thanks, mom." Brendon drapes an arm on my chair reluctantly. I can feel the tension in his arm as it lingers on the wooden frame. I pull his hand onto my shoulder; I hope his heart is pounding like crazy. "But enough about us. How've you two been?"
"Wonderful!" Mrs. Urie exclaims as Mr. Urie scarfs down the salad. I see our waiter coming with our entreés, and Brendon does not seem all too excited. I stroke his hand.
"Bren, hon, what's the matter?" I give him a concerned look. My face hurts. "Are you okay? You look sick."
"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry, but I have to speak to Magnolia in private." He grabs my hand and yanks me passed the tables, navigating me to the restroom hallway. He points a finger at my face. "Look, Maggie, I don't appreciate this whole...'buttering my parents up' business. You don't even like me! What's the point in making my parents like you! What if they find out we're not actually dating? Then you'd be making a huge issue for me! I'll be burned at the stake by my own mother!" Brendon shouts silently, making big hand gestures.
"That's real great, Bren, but your parents are nice. They're a sweet little couple, so let's get back to the table so I can eat dinner." I turn to leave, but he grasps my hand. "What do you want? I thought you were done talking."
"I definitely wasn't," Brennie replies, brows furrowed. Oh no, Maggie's scared!
"Didn't you bring me along for a reason?"
"Yeah, but turn the charm off. I don't want them to barate me once they realize we're not together." Brendon leaves his arm out towards me. "Ready to go back to dinner, with the charm at a minimum?"
I shrug. "I can't turn the charm off, Brennie. It's a part of me. If you didn't want someone charming, you shouldn't have brought me." I hook my arm around his, and we waltz out together, our lips tightly squeezing out smiles.
"Are you children all right?" Mr. Urie asks, wolfing down his steak. Mr. Urie is a man's man; half the 16 ounce steak is gone, leaving him with mostly his side dish. Mrs. Urie daintly picks at her fish as Brendon and I pick up our forks, ready to devour our entreés.
"Oh, we're fine, dad. We just had to talk about where to put our dog," he replies, slicing his asparagus. "Poor thing doesn't really have a place to go at the moment; he keeps peeing on the carpet."
"You should really get that thing trained!" Mrs. Urie cries, horrified. "A soiled carpet is a useless carpet."
"Kit's going to sleep outside at this rate. That crazy little beagle is just ruining the floor." I shake my head, raising the chicken into my mouth. Mrs. Urie makes tsking noises as Brendon squeezes my hand under the table--a silent "thank you".
As we finish our entreés, the waiter brings the dessert. We delicately eat raspberry cheesecake, chatting politely about Brendon's career and how we met. We pretend we bumped into each other at the airport, falling for each other at once. "A true Cinderella story", as Mrs. Urie put it. I don't find anything magical about meeting at an airport, but...I suppose it's romantic, for some women.
We finish, and Mr. Urie pays the bill, Brendon protesting. We graciously thank the Uries for the expensive and delicious meal we had, parting ways outside the quaint French restaurant. Brennie and I climb into his Volvo and drive back home, pretending that we need to check on Kit the beagle.
"Kit? Couldn't you have come up with a better name?" Brendon stomps on the break as we come to a red light.
"I was thinking of Kit Carson, the explorer. Decent name for a dog," I reply, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "Besides, be lucky I was even agreeing with your stupid escuse." I pause. "Does this mean we need to get a dog?"
"No. Once you leave, I'll just tell them you took Kit with you." He continues his way home, mouth clamped shut. Once at the house, we silently walk in, murmuring "good night" to each other. Upon entering my room, Brendon yells for me downstairs.
"What!" I shout back, trudging back down the stairs. I comb my hair as he sits down at the kitchen table. "Are we having another talk?"
"Look, Maggie, I..." He grabs a fistful of hair. "I don't know how to break this to you." He glances outside, looking out at his barren backyard, the yellow grass and wilted maple tree in the distance. "I think..." Brendon's voice trails off.
I sit down. "Continue," I demand.
"Well, maybe I do want you to charm my parents, for them to like you. I don't want to end up like my brother, chasing after his girl because he doesn't know a thing about her. Maybe...maybe I actually want to understand you. Maybe that's why I take you places, let you meet my family and friends." Brendon winces. "I may be completely wrong, but...
"I might actually like you."
Give me insane.
Flash.
Give me lies.
Flash.
Give me "Brendon, you're making me sick".
Flash.