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I busied myself, like I’d said I would. Daddy had given strict instructions, and I was being a good boy. I tidied up a little, then took another nap.
When the key turned in the lock, I jumped up, ready to make John’s coffee. He’d be tired and would no doubt want some.
“Johnnie? We’re home,” a woman said.
What the fuck? His parents were here!
After Christmas was what he’d said, and now they were here, two days before.
I checked my appearance. I wore clothes at least, although I was commando beneath the grey sweats. John liked it, as did I. I hated being confined.
What should I do?
“Erm, he’s not here?” I said as they walked into the living room.
“And who might you be, young man?” The large man in the doorway had to be John’s father.
“I’m, um, Liam.”
“Aw, your Johnnie’s friend,” his mama said. “Come ’ere and give me a hug.” Before I could protest, she pulled me into a tight embrace.
I could hardly breathe.
“Let him go, Annie. Can’t you see he’s injured?”
“Oh, my. Just look at you. Sit down, child. You look as if you’re about to drop.” She let me go and forced me to sit on the sofa.
I wasn’t tired, having not long ago taken a nap.
“Where’s my boy? Is he still at work?” she asked.
I nodded. “He said he’d be a little late.”
“And he left you here, on your own, in this state?”
“I told him to go. He had some breakthrough on a case he was working on. I’m fine, really.”
“Well, I’m Annie, and this is Doug. Honey, go make some coffee. I’m exhausted after all that travelling.”
What did I say? How could I explain my presence in the house without John being here?
“I was just staying here for today. I’ll be going back home tomorrow.”
“Nonsense. You’ll stay here as long as you like. Doug and I don’t mind, and I’m sure Johnnie doesn’t either. Now, tell me how you met.”
Her eyes glistened with tears.
Unsure of what John had told her, I gave her a brief rundown on how I’d met her son and reconnected after five years.
“That’s so romantic,” she said when I’d finished, clutching her chest. “And how long have you been together now?”
Good question. Four? Five weeks?
Long enough to know I relied on him. Looked to him to take care of my well-being.
Doug brought in the coffee and handed us both a cup. I took a sip, almost choking on the bitter liquid. I didn’t like percolated coffee for a reason, preferring my ‘shitty’ instant, as John called it. Trying to keep the disgust from my face, I sipped at it, inwardly grimacing.
An uncomfortable silence settled. I didn’t know what to say, nor did his parents, it seemed.
