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“No, that wasn’t pink enough and you’ll have to change your hair back.” Mrs. Faust waved a dismissive hand. I didn’t like the idea of Lia changing herself, but I didn’t think I had a right to say much about it.
“When?” Lia toyed with the food on her plate. She stared so hard at the salad I was half expecting it to grow legs and run off.
“In two weeks.”
“That won’t work for me.” Lia continued her stare down with her currently inanimate salad.
“Why not?”
“Because Whit and I will be in Vegas that weekend.”
Silverware clattered hitting plates and the tension was thicker than a knife while I waited for the proverbial shoe to drop.
“The hell you will be.” She slammed her hand down on the table making glasses wobble.
“Raina, calm down.” Her father tried to hold her back, but Mrs. Faust was on a bender of rage over not getting Lia to comply.
She pointed her finger at me accusingly, “She is not getting on a plane to elope with this man.”
Lia gasped and shouted. “I’m not getting married.” I cupped her elbow gently to get her to sit back down. She waved her arm throwing my hand off.
I looked at both her parents sincerely explaining. “I wouldn’t ask her to marry me without your permission.”
“I wouldn’t give it anyway.” Her mother snapped.
Lia stomped her foot. This was getting worse by the minute.
“Stop it!” Frustrated, I tried holding Lia’s hand under the table to reassure her.
“Everyone calm down.” Mr. Faust placated.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Mrs. Faust shrieked.
“I need some air.” Lia hurled back looking at me like I had created this mess by bringing her home today.
“I need some wine.” And with that, both Lia and her mother left the room leaving me at the table with her dad in a looming uncomfortable silence. The tension was palatable and neither of us said anything for a long minute.
“Well, that went better than I expected.” He chuffed.
“Mr. Faust, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here.” I took a sip of my water and cleared my throat.
“Call me, Mel.”
Her dad sighed and pushed his chair back like he was easing into an even more uncomfortable conversation than the one that just exploded in our faces.
“Okay, Mel.” It felt weird, but I went wi
th it.
Mel as I was supposed to call him patted my hand and spoke. “Listen, Whit, my wife is a bit of a nut job. I love her, but she rules the roost with a psychotic flair and has cornered the market on inflicting guilt.”
“I uh see some valid points.” I was afraid to agree with him completely because I wasn’t sure if this was some kind of test, parental trap, or male bonding.
“Take Lia to Vegas. You seem like a good man and if my daughter chose you, I trust her judgment. Her sister worries me, but Amelia has always been much more methodical in her decisions despite how they start. I want her to be happy.”
“That’s all I want for her too.”
“I don’t love her choice of school or her decision to live two hours away, but I think you might be what she needs.”
