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9 The Pond
Chandler and I enjoyed the remainder of the movie and then sat and talked for nearly an hour afterward. We had just started out when the front door opened and his parents came in, quite unaware that Chandler had brought anyone to their home. I knew that was true because they were arguing quite vehemently as they entered, his father complaining about his mother's ridiculous infatuation with the Ivers, who he said were perfect examples of the nouveau riche, people who had inherited money and had no class.
"This," he declared before either of them glanced our way. "is a perfect example of why clothes do not make the man. An oaf in a tuxedo is still an oaf. and I'm surprised that you, of all people, can't see that. Amanda."
"I am not infatuated with anyone. I'm merely... oh," Chandler's mother moaned. grimacing so emphatically she made her face look like a rubber mask, stretching her lips and widening her eyes when she saw the two of us standing there, listening to them.
She was otherwise an attractive woman, stately, her black hair perfectly cut and styled. She wore a thin wrap with fur cuffs and a collar, and diamond earrings hung in gold leaves glittered under the hallway chandelier's light. When she turned and her wrap opened. I saw the biggest diamond pendant I had ever seen in real life, lying softly just above her cleavage, prominently displayed in her deep neck satin gown.
Chandler's father was dressed in a tuxedo with a vibrantly red silk scarf over his shoulders. I guess dapper was the proper word for him. I saw the great resemblance between Chandler and him, especially around their eyes and their mouths. However. Chandler's nose was smaller and straighter. and I thought he had a stronger chin. They were about the same height.
"What's this?" he asked, a look of annoyance disrupting his face. It was as if Chandler had brought home a prostitute or something. At least, that was the way he made me feel when he fixed his critical eyes on me.
"Dad." Chandler said, not losing a bit of his cool, calm demeanor, "Mom. I'd like you to meet Honey Forman, the girl I told you about, the one who plays the violin and practices with me once a week," he added, obviously annoyed it was taking both of them so long to recall my name and who I was. "At Mr. Wengrow's house? Remember?"
"Oh," his mother said, jumping as if someone had touched her behind with one of Grandad's cattle prods. "Yes, of course." She scrunched her nose and wrinkled the area around her eyes as she peered at me. "You two weren't practicing your music now, were you?"
"I doubt that," his father said, giving her a look that practically shouted "stupid."
"Oh." his mother said again. "Then what..."
"I brought Honey here to see our new television system and watch a movie on it," Chandler explained.
"New television system?"
"He's talking about the DVD player, new widescreen television set, and the surround sound system I recently had installed. Amanda." his father said.
"Oh." She looked very confused.
"I wonder why it doesn't surprise me that you've forgotten about it," his father said.
"Well, you know I don't watch very much television these days, Dalton."
"Right."
"We were just on our way out." Chandler said. "I'm taking Honey home."
"Forman. Right, yes, Your grandfather is Abraham Forman. the Forman farm." Chandler's father said, as if he was giving me the information for the first time. "It's one of the more successful familyrun farms these days." he told Chandler's mother. "It's an immaculate property, a jewel in our community," he added. "The farmer is still a large part of the backbone of this country," he lectured.
"How nice," Chandler's mother said. "I'm sorry I can't stand here and chat. but I must get out of these clothes and relax. Chandler. We didn't have an enjoyable evening," she said. "and I'd just like to forget about it as quickly as I can. Nice to have met you..." She looked at Chandler. "I'm sorry, did you say her name was Honey or did you call her honey?"
"That's my name. Mrs. Maxwell," I said.
"Is it? How... different. Well, nice to have met you anyway." she said and walked toward the stairs.
Chandler moved quickly to open the front door for me. He and his father exchanged angry looks, and we started out.
"Good night. Mr. Maxwell," I said. "It was nice to meet you. too.'
Chandler closed the door sharply behind us before his father could reply.
"Sorry about their being so stuffy," he said as we walked to his car. "I guess they were just taken by surprise," I said.
He nodded, but after we started away, he said it wasn't just their being surprised.
"I wish I could blame it on that. but I'm afraid my parents are somewhat snobby. They both come from wealthy families and rarely have gone anywhere in their lives that wasn't first class. All their friends are just like them." he continued. "I'm like you. Honey. I need to get away. too. Especially from that." he tagged on.
"What are you looking for, Chandler?" I asked him, wondering what he meant by "like you."
