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We drive to my parent’s house, and it is Elliot’s turn to be worried. His knee bounces fast and I reach over to place my hand on him. His knee stills.
“It’s going to be okay,” I reassure him. He glances over with a small appreciative smile. A few minutes later I pull into my driveway, a little nervous to see Elliot’s reaction.
The differences between our childhoods are ridiculous. I can’t help but feel a little guilty of my privilege. My parents' home is a large two story brick house. My mom is a florist so there is always an abundance of flowers around the house, inside and out. I park next to my dad's car and look at Elliot. He looks a little speechless and I reach for his hand.
“Where’s your head at?” I ask.
He waits a moment before saying, “Feeling a bit intimidated.” He has come such a long way in a short time when it comes to sharing his feelings with me. I am so proud of him.
“Please, please don’t be. My parents are as down-to-earth as possible. I promise. They’re going to love you,” I assure him and pull his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles.
He looks at me with love in his eyes, “I trust you.” We get out and make our way to the front door, my mom flings the door open before we have a chance to make it up the porch steps. She is a little taller than me but just as petite. Her blonde hair is cut to her shoulders in a bob and she has on leggings with a long sweater over them.
“Welcome home!” She cheers and rushes out to give me a tight hug. I hug her back just as tight. I haven’t seen them since before I started talking to Elliot. Over a month, which is probably the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing my parents.
“Elliot! It is so nice to finally meet you!” My mom releases me and captures Elliot in a hug against his will. He looks taken aback but hugs her back stiffly.
“Mom,” I scold and she releases him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just so happy you’re both here! Come inside, I’ve got snacks.” She turns and walks inside, expecting us to follow. I look at Elliot and he looks a little shaken, but he smiles at me.
“I see where you get your energy from,” He teases and I glare at him.
“You really shouldn’t glare so much,” He says with a serious face. I scoff and look at him disbelievingly, which makes him laugh.
“Come on, you punk,” I say pulling his hand and leading him inside.
We walk through the foyer, past the stairs and office to the kitchen. On the kitchen island, there is an assortment of cheese and crackers, fruit and veggies, and colorful cookies.
“Geesh mom, you didn’t have to do all of this!” I say. She waves me off like it is nothing, which I know for her…it really is nothing. She loves playing hostess. I hear footsteps and my dad soon enters the kitchen. My dad is tall, but not as tall as Elliot. His brown hair is gray on the sides and his beard is salt and peppered. He has on sweatpants and a St. James University t-shirt. My parents practically bought out my school store with merchandise. They’re the cutest.
“Elliot, I’m Matthew. It’s so nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand and Elliot shakes it at once.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you so much...for having me,” He says then clears his throat. I smile at him encouragingly. I have told my parents enough about Elliot’s past that they know not to push or pry.
“Please help yourself to some snacks.” My mom hands us each a plate and motions for us to fill them. We do. Elliot stacks his high with a little bit of everything. I roll my eyes at him and he narrows his eyes back at me with a smile. My parents mention something about needing to fix something in the office and leave us alone. I know that it is their way of trying not to overwhelm Elliot. I am thankful for it because I know this must be a lot for him.
I finish eating and finger the delicate blue flowers my mom has arranged in a vase on the counter.
“Those are pretty,” He says after swallowing a mouthful of cheese and crackers, nodding to the flowers I’m touching.
“They’re forget-me-nots,” I tell him with a smile. “My favorite flowers. I’m sure mom put them here just for me coming home.”
“Why are they your favorite?” He asks.
“I think they’re so overlooked. And I love their name. Kind of sad, but hopeful, in a way,” I tell him, lightly touching the small petals. “And they’re so beautiful. And tiny, delicate.”
“Like you,” He jokes, offering me a sweet smile. I blush. He watches me for a moment before saying. “This house…is beautiful. Your parents seem wonderful.”
“Thank you, and they really are.” I smile and take a sip from my water glass.
“It’s a big house for just you three,” He notes and I nod.
“They wanted to have more kids but couldn’t,” I answer with a sigh.
“That’s too bad.” He says and I nod again in agreement.
“My mom’s pregnancy with me was high risk because she has a minor heart condition. But then she lost a lot of blood during the delivery and it started to cause complications with her lady bits. I don’t know the specifics, but they tried everything to fix it over the years. But it never worked right after me.” I pick at my plate. I always feel so guilty.
