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“I'm sorry, I really am. But with school and all the obligations we've had lately, it completely slipped my mind.”
My mother grumbles as she rolls her eyes, fanning her hand for him to come inside. “You know, I'd really appreciate it if you don't forget to tell me these things. You know we have a tight schedule as is, and entertaining a house guest isn't something you just spring on us.” She walks through the living room, talking to Mark with her head set forward. “What is it you do, Mark?”
Glancing at Mark, he gives me wide eyes. But he doesn't say anything to contradict the story I gave my mother, instead he helps fuel the lie. “I'm a mechanical engineer, Ma'am.”
Perfect answer.
His answer sounds more professional, more technical, more educated than just a mechanic. He doesn't stutter or fumble his words. They come out firm and confident.
“Engineer, huh?” she glances back quickly, letting her eyes run up and down his clothes. I can see the disbelief in her eyes, but she keeps it to herself. “You can stay in here.” Pushing open the door of the one of our guest rooms, she steps to the side. “And Siobhan, next time you invite a man to stay in our home, I expect you to get your father's permission first. Understand?”
“Absolutely. Of course, I won't let it happen again.”
My mother's brows knit as she looks between us. “I think it goes without saying that I shouldn't ever find you two alone in any of the rooms with the door closed. Not in this house, not ever.” Her eyes burn through my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Siobhan knows our expectations.”
I feel like a kid again, and not the woman I am. I'm not surprised, though. My parents are extremely traditional. And if I live under their roof, I follow their rules. Along with every other expectation and obligation they throw at me. How I dress. How I talk. Who I associate with. What I study in school. Where I go to school. There isn't much in my life that I control.
Standing in the hall, my hands are twisting over each other at my waist. I can't stop moving. My foot is tapping, my leg is shaking, and I keep chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“I'll let you get settled in,” my mother says. “Dinner is at six, sharp. I hope you brought something presentable in that thing you call a suitcase.” Her eyes lower and her nose goes up.
Mark looks down at his suitcase. The black is faded to light gray, there are small rips and tears around the edges and the zipper is rusted all the way around. One wheel is missing, and another is broken in half.
I can feel the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks. I don't know why, it's not like I really care what my mother thinks of him. And yet, in the same breath, I do. She's my mother. A child always looks for some sort of approval from their parent, regardless of how ridiculous and stuck up they might be.
“Siobhan, a word,” she barks, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me away.
Mark is holding the door, staring at me as she yanks me along. My eyes soften as I mouth ‘sorry’ to him.
I'll make this up to him somehow. He took me by surprise, and I love it. But he also put himself in the lion's den. He has no idea what he just walked into. But I'll do what I can to show him how much I appreciate this.
I just have to figure out how.
