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“With his parents.”
“Okay . . .”
“Chema!” I whine. “This place is a mess!”
“Oh.” Realization lands on his face. “Oh. Shit. Sorry.” He kicks it into gear and picks up shoes from the floor and trash from the coffee table as quickly as he can. Everything gets tossed in his room. I’m not able to help with much, but I go over to the intercom to buzz them up.
“I’m going to take a nap,” Chema, the coward, tells me and shuts his bedroom door.
When I open the door, Rory stands in front of a couple a bit shorter than him, neither of whom is a redhead.
“Valentina, hi.”
“Come in, please.” I adjust my headscarf and straighten my sweatshirt.
“This is my Mom and Dad. This is Valentina,” says Rory as we stand awkwardly by the door.
“Oh, she is darling, Rory. You didn’t do her justice.” Rory’s mom takes me in for a hug that is so tight I have to suck in air. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Didn’t mean to crush you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Dennis. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“None of that nonsense. Call me Lisa. And this here is Tom.”
“Lisa. Tom,” I say and smile at them. “Please take a seat, make yourselves at home.”
Lisa Dennis has dark brown hair and a light-olive skin tone. Her eyes are brown, and she is short and stocky. Nothing about her looks like Rory. Tom Dennis is only a few inches taller than his wife, and both his hair and eyes are a dark brown that is almost black. Neither of them has Rory’s signature freckles.
“Your mom is right, son,” says Tom. “She’s a lot prettier than you said.”
“Dad! I’m sorry, Valentina. Don’t believe anything they say. They are both liars.”
I laugh. I’m glad I’m up for company today.
“I’m sorry to spring up on you like this,” says Lisa. “We wanted to surprise Rory with a visit, and he confessed he met someone special. He didn’t want us to meet, but then the weasel told us you are sick and alone and, well, we had to come check on you. He’s a sneaky one, dontchaknow.” Lisa shoots daggers at Rory with her eyes, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
It’s so strange to have his parents here and to have them so concerned about me—a complete stranger to them. I search Rory’s eyes for a possible explanation. Rory just shrugs, not understanding the question I failed to ask telepathically. He must have said something to them that made me seem important enough for them to want to check in on me. But wasn’t this move exactly like something Rory would do? He always shows up if he thinks I might need any help, whether he’s been invited or not. Now his parents are doing the same. He gets it from them, and I’m starting to understand that this is simply how his family operates. It’s intrusive . . . and loving.
Then I turn my focus to what his mom is saying. I remember Rory using that phrase before. Dontchaknow. The syllables running into each other like they are all one word. When he used the phrase, he had been talking about home. Now I know where he gets it.
I study Lisa with curiosity. I don’t understand what made them visit with such urgency once they found out I was sick. They don’t know me enough to care.What did you say to them,Rory?
“Oh dear,” says Lisa. “We’ve really put our foot in it, haven’t we? I only mean Rory’s been through enough in his life. If someone he cares about is ill, we want to be here for Rory.”
“And for you,” Tom says, looking at me.
“I, um—I don’t know what to say,” I admit. I look between the three of them, trying to find some sort of resemblance between Rory and his parents, but there is none.
There is no similar curve to his nose like Tom’s, and his wavy red hair couldn’t be further from his mom’s brown curls. I look like my mom—a lot, and still, I have a bit of Dad around the eyes.
“You haven’t told her,” Lisa says to Rory but keeps her gaze on me.
Rory shakes his head.
“Tell me what?”
“Well, we can get going if you two want to have a chat,” Tom starts to say, but Rory cuts him off.
“No. It’s fine. You can be here when I tell her.”
