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Beckett
“Elouise, what took…”Mrs. Hall’s voice trails off as her eyes widen, catching sight of me.
It’s been at least a decade since I’ve seen Lou’s parents, but I recognize them immediately. A little greyer, but they look almost exactly the same.
“Morning, Mrs. Hall,” I hold my hand out and she fumbles a bit to take it, head tilting like she’s trying to place me. Tipping my head down, I give her my most charming smile, “It’s me. Beckett Stoleman.”
Her mouth pops open and the look of surprise reminds me so much of Elouise that my smile grows.
I know I should probably feel severely uncomfortable right now, but I don’t.
Mrs. Hall clasps her free hand around the back of mine, not letting go, “Beckett Stoleman! I can’t believe it! You’re so grown up!” I almost snort. At 38 I’d hope so. Lou’s mom gives me a once over and shakes her head. “Sweet baby Jesus, you sure did grow up!”
“Mom!” Smoky’s gasp has my laugh breaking free.
Mr. Hall pats his wife on the shoulder, “Let the poor boy go, Hun.”
Instead of letting me go, Mrs. Hall pulls me in for a hug. Only she’s even shorter than Elouise so I have to bend down to hug her back.
Lou is grumbling something from where she’s still stuck behind me, since I’m blocking the doorway.
Mr. Hall just rolls his eyes at his wife’s behavior, “It’s best to just roll with it, son.”
He seems awfully calm for finding me in his daughter’s house so early in the morning. I’m not sure if he hasn’t put it together yet, or if he’s just handling this in a very mature way.
“Okay, Mom,” Elouise grips my shoulder pulling me back a step and dislodging the hug, “might as well come inside before this becomes any more of a spectacle.”
“Has she always been such a prude?” I ask Mrs. Hall, as we all move into the house.
She sighs, “She really has.”
I think Elouise says something along the lines of I’m going to kill you but her words are smothered by her mother’s hug. Mr. Hall shakes my hand before stepping into the house with the rest of us, closing the door behind him.
It takes a minute for all of the greetings to finish, but when they do, I watch Elouise as she twists her fingers together, clearly trying to figure out how to play this.
Humor brews inside me, as I watch her cheeks get even pinker, “I guess I’ll make some coffee.”
Trailing behind the Hall family, I follow them into the kitchen where Elouise busies herself measuring water and coffee grounds.
Mr. Hall asks me how my parents are doing, and I keep an ear on Lou and her mom as they discuss how her students are getting along. And this all feels just as right as Elouise felt in my arms this morning.
The timing might not be what we planned, but I don’t regret this turn of events.
I can feel Elouise’s hesitancy in pursuing this relationship. I don’t know if it’s our brief history, our brothers’ friendship, or the small town that has her so leery. So, it might’ve been shitty of me to force the issue by opening the front door, but I didn’t want Elouise to push me out a back door – or hide me in a closet – because I wanted her to face this thing between us. And there’s no hiding from this now. One way or another, Elouise and I are in this together until we figure out what this is.
By the time the coffee is poured, Mr. Hall has donned an apron and is elbow deep in flour making a batch of homemade pancakes.
“Come sit,” Mrs. Hall gestures to me to come closer, pulling out two of the chairs around the dining table.
We sit at the same time, then she turns her chair so it’s facing me.
Elouise pinches the bridge of her nose, looking like she wants to trade her coffee for a cocktail, “Mom.”
“What?” her mom looks back at her with mock innocence.
“We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
I choke a little on my coffee. I know what Lou meant, but it’s the perfect reminder of what we did last night to build up our appetite.
