Chapter 5

Is it just me, or is it a bit awkward in here? Meeting someone's parents isn't fun and games, as Thomas finds out, and it's even more so when a social gap opens like a chasm between them.

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

          I froze. What was I suppose to do? I couldn’t move, let alone respond. Jonathon was waiting for me to do something. Milliseconds crawled by as I tried to think of something to say. Didn’t I say I had something in my eye? Pay attention! Or maybe, Uh-huh, that’s nice. By the way, you seem to be touching me in a way that might seem questionable to our sexual orientation. Did you notice? What? What? What do I do?!

          The telephone rang.

          We both jumped at the sound. The jolt of reality gave back my sense of feeling and I quickly used it to my advantage. I gently shrugged off Jonathon’s arms and headed to the phone.

          “I- I’ll go check and see if that’s my mom,” I said, trying to sound unconcerned as though nothing seriously confusing had happened. I reached the telephone and checked the caller I.D. It said Breakfield. I answered. “Hello, Mom?”

          “Thomas, is that you?” came my mother’s static voice. She was barely audible over what seemed like pounding bass in the background. 

          “Yeah, Mom, it’s me. Where are you? I hear music in the back.” There was the sound of the phone being muffled. When my mom answered, her voice seemed really loud, like she was talking really close to the speaker.

          “It’s nothing, Thomas, just someone in the office being obnoxious. So, you’re okay, right? I’m sorry; I took the spare key because I lost mine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You don’t have a cold from waiting, do you? I’m so sorry!” She was close to tears.

          I smiled, even if she couldn’t see.  “No, Mom. Seriously, I’m fine. Jonathon invited me over to his house. I was going to wait for you here. When are you coming back, anyway?” I waited for her to reply, but all I heard was static. Then she came back on line.

          “What was that, Thomas? I’m sorry, someone was talking to me. I didn’t hear what you said.” 

          I knew my mom. I heard her voice my entire life and I memorized everything about it. And I knew that, by the tone of her voice and by the way she pronounced her words, she was smiling. But for what reason, I had no clue.

          “O- oh, it’s just that I’m waiting at Jonathon’s house for you. When will you be back?” I asked. A loud crunch from the laundry room startled me. Since the phone was cordless, I took it with me while I ventured back to find the source.

          “Um, I won’t be home for a little while, Thomas. I still have a lot of work to do, so I’ll be kind of late. Could you eat supper there?” She asked.

          “Hold on,” I said, covering the mouthpiece as I looked into the room. Jonathon was pulling a hamper to the side of the wall. He glanced up at me and raised a hand in acknowledgement. I did the same, resuming my conversation.  “Uh, I could ask.” Again, I put my hand on the phone and asked Jonathon, “Hey, is it okay if I stay here longer? My mom won’t be back until later and I still can’t get in the house.”

          Jonathon bit his lip, and then nodded. “Sure, I guess you could. My parents would understand.”

          “Thanks.” I brought the phone to my mouth. “Yeah, he said that it’s okay. When exactly will you be back?”

          There was a pause. “I’ll be home around eight.”

          “Eight?” I asked incredulously, and then sighed. She’s been home later than that. It just seemed too long, especially since I would be at Jonathon’s house the whole time. I walked away from the laundry room, where Jonathon pre-occupied himself with refilling the washer. “Okay, that’s fine, Mom. But if you can leave a little earlier, please do. I have homework in my room.” Okay, that was an unnecessary lie, I admit. But worry makes the mouth spill more. All you kids out there, don’t follow in my footsteps. Lying is bad when used for evil purposes! Anything else is acceptable.

          “Okay, Thomas. I’ll try. Sorry, sweetie, I’ll be soon!”

          “Thanks, Mom. See you later.” But she didn’t answer. The line went dead before I could even finish. I looked at the phone for a moment, and then hung up as well. That was one of the first times I had called my mom during work. I never knew management offices could be so hectic. Shrugging, I turned back to talk to Jonathon. Hopefully, most of the awkwardness had faded away. Before I entered, I happened to catch a glimpse of the wall outside the laundry room. 

          There was a gaping hole. The other side of the hole was covered with wicker. Was that there the whole time? If so, then Jonathon’s parents probably hadn’t noticed. Not notice? That thing is huge! You’d either have to be blind or stupid not to notice that. I called Jonathon over. 

          “What do you make of this?” I asked him, pointing at the gap. He followed my finger and frowned.

          “Damn it,” he muttered. “I didn’t think it went all the way through.” He caught himself, and then said, “Pick up the pieces. I’m getting tape.” 

          Jonathon left and I put aside my clothes to gather what used to be part of a wall. After collecting all the pieces big enough to be repaired, I realized exactly what he did. 

          Jonathon kicked a hole through the wall.

          I once got mad and did the same thing, except all I got out of it was a stubbed toe and crumbly plaster. And that was with shoes. Jonathon had on socks. My toes tingled just from thinking about it as I fitted the pieces around the hole. I heard the crackle of tape being pulled and saw Jonathon beside next to me. 

          “Take the pieces out,” he instructed, tearing the tape off with his teeth. I opened my mouth to question him, but thought better of it. After carefully removing the chunks from the hole, I scooted away to give Jonathon room to work. “No, I need your help,” he said, beckoning to me with his hand, but never looking up. Was he still embarrassed about what happened in the laundry room? Even though I was itching to know what he was thinking, I kept my questions to myself and shifted back over to his side. I watched as Jonathon lined the inside of the hole with tape, sticky side facing out. “Now, fit the pieces in where they’re supposed to go,” said Jonathon. “But don’t press down on the tape until you’re absolutely sure it fits.” I nodded and began our wall jigsaw. 

          The first five minutes was pretty quiet, excluding the occasional “Hey, pass me that piece over there,” or in Jonathon’s case, an accusing cough whenever I tried to sneak several bits of plaster onto places they didn’t fit. Soon, though, the silence became suffocating. Despite my better judgment, I broke it.

          “So, know what happened here?” I asked. Right when those words left my mouth, I wanted to smash my head against a brick. I didn’t need to hear it from Jonathon’s mouth to know that he was the one who caved in the plaster. So why was I asking?

          Jonathon didn’t answer as he examined each piece of wall. I waited as he held up a section, lined it up with a side of the hole, rotated, and then set it down to find another piece. Finally, he sighed. “Don’t act as if you don’t already know, Thomas. You’re naïve acting is so transparent, I can see straight through you to the other side of the hall.” Jonathon continued to examine bits of the wall, trying to match them up to the correct spots. I stared at him with my mouth slightly open. I swear my right eye twitched, a sign of strain from holding back dozens of sardonic comebacks. One pathetic comment slipped out, to my dismay.

          “You didn’t even look at me,” I muttered. Where’s that brick when I need it?

          Jonathon paused, and then sighed. Before I could even gasp in surprise, he quickly turned his head and leaned toward me, his face only inches from mine. All the air in my lungs seemed to whoosh into my throat, making my breath catch. As his onyx eyes bore into mine, my heart skipped a beat, and then pounded into overdrive. Why does he do this to me?

          “Yes, Thomas, I kicked in the wall and you know it,” Jonathon said softly. There was another emotion in his voice that I couldn’t identify. It almost sounded like sadness with, something else. Of course, being the smart-a*s that I was, I couldn’t just let him think that he made me speechless. I couldn’t let him think that just hearing him talking to me took every ounce of breath from my body.

          “W-why?” So much for not letting him know. 

          “You’ll figure it out later,” he said. “If you can’t by then, I’ll tell you.” Then Jonathon leaned in closer, making me scoot back a little. “By the way, the time is now a quarter past six.” With that, he poked my forehead—causing me to fall on my butt—and turned his attention back to the almost completed wall puzzle. I was dumbstruck for a second, and then turned to look behind me. On the wall behind us was a grandfather clock, and sure enough, the hands pointed to six fifteen. That was an obscenely cool trick. Especially since my head was blocking it from Jonathon’s view.

          “I- I’m going to go change,” I announced, obviously flustered. I quickly scrambled up to my feet, grabbing my clothes on the way to the stairs. 

 

 

          Jonathon’s parents arrived twenty minutes later, and that was when I realized how far apart Jonathon was from his foster parents.

          I was introduced to his parents. Mr. Cooper was a short but sturdy man, dressed in a tailored three-piece suit. Probably cost a pretty penny, I imagined. Mr. Cooper was also the owner of a fairly large cosmetics company, with Mrs. Cooper as a former model.  Personally, I didn’t find Mrs. Cooper all that attractive. She was well into her forties, around the same age as her husband. I tried picturing her as a young woman, but it still didn’t come out as model material to me. Her features were a little too ruddy and country-like for photo-shoots. But city life did influence the way she held herself, walking with a confident air. Maybe Mr. Cooper let her model because he didn’t have a choice. 

          But the strangest part of the meeting was seeing how Jonathon and his parents acted with each other. When his foster parents walked through the door into the entrance, their greetings were so formal, like they barely knew each other. 

          “Mother, Father,” he said, “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” Jonathon placed a hand on my back and gently urged me forward. “This is Thomas. Thomas, this is Angelina and Joseph Cooper, my parents.” I shook their hands one by one, with Mrs. Cooper first.

          “I- it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I stammered, doing my best to be the politest person on Earth.

          “No, the pleasure is ours,” Mrs. Cooper replied, daintily grasping my hand and moved it up and down, as if shaking too hard would cause damage to her hand. It wouldn’t, I’m sure. 

          Mr. Cooper’s grip, on the other hand (pun not intentional), was firm and solid. He looked down at me with a precise eye and said, “Nice to meet you, young man.” I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not beneath his red moustache. He turned to Jonathon. “I don’t recall you telling us that you invited a friend over, Jonathon.” On the outside, it seemed like a casual question, but I caught a hint of reprimand.

          Jonathon lowered his head. “I’m sorry, but this is last minute. Thomas was locked out of his house and his mother wasn’t able to come pick him up, so I thought I could let him stay here until he can go back in his own house.” I glanced at Jonathon beside me, but he didn’t look up.

          Mr. Cooper grunted. “Well, then I suppose it’s fine as long as his mother knows where he’s at. Isn’t that right?” He directed the last part to me, arching one eyebrow. I nodded. Mr. Cooper seemed to frown for a moment, and then proceeded to clap me stiffly on the shoulder. “We’re happy to welcome you to our home, Thomas. Make yourself comfortable.”

          “Y- yes, sir,” was all I managed to say. I even bowed a little bit as he strode past. Mrs. Cooper smiled as she followed her husband to the dining room. I spared another glance at Jonathon. He wasn’t smiling at all.

          “Your parents seem pretty nice,” I said, and immediately felt stupid. Of all the lame things to say, I had to come up with something at the top of that list. Yeah, that’s me, Signor Smooth. As expected, Jonathon just shook his head and motioned for me to follow him.

          We entered the dining room and I saw that there was already food placed on the long table. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. I turned to Jonathon and whispered.

          “Hey, did you make dinner why I was changing or something?” I asked pointing to the food.

          Jonathon seemed taken back at the question, and then smiled. “No, I didn’t. We have cooks. They made this.” Jonathon glanced across the table. “But, it seems like they didn’t realize that we had a guest. I’ll get you a plate.” He strolled to the other side of the room and stuck his head through a serving door, talking to a hired hand. I stood awkwardly next to the table, not sure of what to do. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper went to sit at the head of the table where places were already set. Jonathon came back and motioned for me to sit beside him, where a lady was setting a plate and silverware for me.

          Needless to say, things didn’t improve from there on. The dinner conversation was either short or non-existent. Mr. Cooper asked me several questions concerning my family and background while we started on chicken cacciatore, an Italian dish. While we were busy eating and trying not to make any smacking noises (at least I was trying not to), I glanced over at Jonathon’s foster parents to see if they were watching us. Then I nudged Jonathon in time to have him see me biting my chicken with a ridiculous look on my face. Jonathon snorted and covered his mouth with a napkin. I quickly looked back down as his foster parents glared at him. Indeed, it was painfully silent after that.

          Halfway through dinner we heard the phone ring. I was itching to jump up and answer it, but it wasn’t my house and I didn’t want to embarrass Jonathon again. 

          Mr. Cooper nodded toward Jonathon, who excused himself from the table. Again, the clinking of silverware was the only that broke this excruciating silence that came between me and the Coopers. I glanced up only once at Mr. Cooper. He solemnly ate his chicken and did his best to ignore the silence. Maybe he was accustomed to it? Before I could look down at my food, Mr. Cooper’s eyes flickered in my direction and his locked with mine. Neither of us moved, both being too surprised to react. We must have stared at each other for only a second, but it felt like a long time. I was caught so off guard, I didn’t even have the humor to laugh at the little bit of chicken dangling from his moustache. Finally, I was the one to break off eye contact, turning my attention back to my plate. I heard him cough and saw him wipe his mouth from the corner of my eye. Jonathon walked through the doorway, hand on the phone’s receiver.

          “Thomas, it’s your mother,” he announced. I hastily excused myself from the table, bowing clumsily while folding my napkin. I almost hit my head on the table’s floral center piece before stumbling toward Jonathon.

          “Thanks,” I whispered, taking the phone. Jonathon smirked. When I was safely outside of the dining room, I uncovered the receiver and spoke.

          “Mom?”

          “Thomas?”

          I let out a sigh of relief. I heard the sound of a car engine in the background. She was on the way.

          “Mom, when are you going to be home?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from sounding desperate.

          “Thomas, honey,” came my mother’s static reply. “I’m on the way right now. Give me twenty more minutes.” My heart sank.

          “Twenty minutes?” I repeated.

          “Yes, sweety, I’m sorry. I’m going as fast as I can.”

          I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll meet you there. I love you.”

          “I love you, too, Thomas.” We both hung up. I let out a sigh. Could I really last twenty minutes in this stiff atmosphere?

          “Thomas, is everything okay?” I whirled around and came face-to-face with Jonathon, who was obviously putting on airs as the concerned host. “Is your mother coming?” he asked.

          I fumbled for an answer. “Y-yeah, she’s on the way,” I said. “Infact, she’s almost home. So, I’ll need to go now.” The lie slipped out of my mouth before I had the chance to reconsider. Jonathon, however, didn’t notice the fib.

          “Okay, then I’ll walk you out as soon as you’ve gotten your bag,” he offered. We both strolled back into the dining room where I said good-bye to Jonathon’s foster parents. I ran up to Jonathon’s room to retrieve my school bag, and then headed out the door. As I reached for the door, I realized having Jonathon walk me out was a bad idea. With my hand on the doorknob, I turned around and smiled at Jonathon. 

          “Thanks for letting me come over,” I said, then a little more quietly, “especially after what happened.” I felt my face get hot and instinctively lowered my head. “Sorry for leaving during dinner,” I continued. “You don’t need to walk me out. Go back and finish having dinner with your parents. I’ll be fine getting to my house. Besides,” I added playfully, “it’s not like I’m worth mugging.” Jonathon was about to object, but I cut in. “Seriously, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m a girl or anything.” He frowned, and then shrugged.

          “Fine, if you insist,” he sighed. “But that creep might still be out there. Be careful.”

          I swallowed hard. I had forgotten about the possibility of him still being around. No, he wouldn’t be waiting all this time just to get me. We still have time.

          “I will. See yah later.”

          The winter night air was crisp and chilly as I stepped out. Everything was pitch-black, except for the areas near street lamps and porch lights, which were bathed in a golden-orange glow. I waved at Jonathon as I crossed his yard. His silhouette waved back against the light from his house. As I trekked across the street, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty about lying. Especially since it was so trivial. I mean, come on! I lied to Jonathon and his parents just so I could leave twenty minutes earlier. That is beyond pathetic. And to top it off, I was starting to regret it! What was I suppose to do now, go up there and ask if I could come back in because I changed my mind? 

          My thoughts hammered inside my head as I climbed up the front porch and sat down. Guilt and tonight’s dinner churned in my stomach as I replayed the day’s events in my mind. The fear, the confusion, and the regret all came rushing back as I sorted my thoughts and priorities.

          I heaved a deep sigh, finally giving up on thinking and wrapped my arms around my legs to keep warm. I fixed my gaze up to the stars, waiting for something good to happen.

Author's Note

Is it just me, or are some reviews needed in here?