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“Sorry for the change in plans. My mother…she called and asked if I had dinner plans. It seemed meant to be.” Did I really just say that? “I mean, I’ve been thinking about introducing you to them.”
Mira smiles and looks down at her drink. I think I see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Meeting the parents, okay.” She raises up her glass. “I guess it’s good you came early. I’m going to need this.”
She lets me take her hand as we walk over to the tavern. My parents are waiting outside the entrance. I see both of them take in the fact that I’m holding Mira’s hand and that she’s a human.
“Hello, I’m Mira.” She holds out her hand in the human way. I expect my mother to scoff, but she’s just looking Mira up and down. I almost fall over when she takes Mira’s hand.
“Lovely to meet you.” She turns to my father. “You best tell them we need a table for four.”
The night is mild, so we are seated on the deck. Mira and I are familiar with the menu. My father studies it carefully while my mother peppers Mira with increasingly personal questions.
“And what made you decide to move here?”
Mira makes a wipe sweeping motion with her arm, indicating the view.
“The mountains. I don’t know what it is about them. But I’ve always felt them calling to me. I just feel like I belong here.”
“What about traveling?”
“Oh, I like a good trip now and then. But I’m happiest at home. Home is where the heart is.” My mother looks puzzled. “It’s a human expression.”
Mira puts her hand on top of mine. I feel a surge of warmth spread through me. It’s not the electricity of raw desire. It’s something deeper, more important.
My mother nods approvingly and turns to her menu. Finally! The waiter has been by three times and been summarily told we were not ready to order yet.
After dinner, Mira excuses herself. As soon as she steps out of earshot, I brace myself. I remember the antagonist attitudes towards humans that were pervasive in my youth. Some Kiphians have softened but interspecies relationships are still rare and can generate a fair amount of disapproval.
“She is a delight.” Did I hear my mother correctly?
My father nods in agreement.
“Thank you,” I offer simply, unprepared to give a more detailed response.
“Is it serious?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I’m not exactly lying. Mira wants to take it slow, and I agreed to that. Therefore, how serious is it? I don’t know.
“It would be good to see you settle down.”
Huh?
“How do you mean?”
“You could stop with the competitions already. Waste of time, don’t you agree?”
I look at my father. He is staring very hard at his plate. I can’t look at him. It’s always like this. My mother can be unbelievably cruel, and he does nothing. She both pushes me to be the best and also insists on telling me I can never achieve it. Why do I always think he will stand up for me? He never has.
“We find her suitable.”
“She makes you happy, I can tell.”
In spite of myself, I look at my father. He smiles at me. It’s not his usual sad and apologetic smile. He seems genuinely pleased for me.
“She does make me happy.”
