by M. L. Young
“I told you that the other day. Oh well, we can always get you something when we’re there if you forgot something. There are some chain stores about twenty or so minutes away from town,” I said as I set her down.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. I had a pizza made for us earlier. Just have to cook it,” I said.
“Good. I’m starved,” she said.
I turned on the oven and poured us some wine before handing her glass to her and clinking them together.
“Here’s to us,” I said, with our glasses raised.
“To us. Hopefully many more trips after this as well,” she said.
We walked over to the couch after sipping our wine and set our glasses down on the coffee table before she cuddled up to me in the cutest way and refused to let go. I ran my fingers through her hair, looking down at her every once in a while, though not letting her catch me looking.
I couldn’t believe I was finally going to take a girl home after all this time. It had been a while since I had, and that time hadn’t had the best outcome. I knew that Penny was nothing like her, and that our relationship was much, much better, but I couldn’t help but feel a little worried. My home didn’t exactly have the cheeriest of memories anyway, so tossing that on top was almost a little too much.
The oven beeped and I pried her away enough to get up and put the pizza in. It needed twenty minutes, which felt like forever when you’re hungry, but I suppose we didn’t have another choice.
“I know we haven’t gone yet, but thank you,” she said as she came up beside me.
“For what?” I asked.
“For bringing me along with you. For trusting me enough to let me meet your family and friends and all that. It means a lot,” she said as she looked up at me with glistening eyes.
“Anything for you,” I said, kissing her forehead and seeing a little smile come across her face.
I knew things wouldn’t be perfect this weekend, but it was bound to happen sometime, and all I could do at the end of the day was make the best of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Penelope
“And please bring your exam up front when you’re finished. You may leave after that, thank you,” my professor said before handing out our exams.
I was completely ready for it, having studied a bit beforehand and knowing as much as I could know about all the material we went over so far in the semester. She even gave us a study guide that I wrote on, looked over, and kept with me for the past week. I don’t know why I worried so much, or why I even studied this hard when I only had a few weeks left of school, but I guess I just wanted to do the best I possibly could.
She handed me the exam. It was four pages front and back, stapled together, though there were only about eight questions per page, so it wasn’t so bad. I picked up my mechanical pencil, clicked out some lead, and wrote my name before I read the first question and confidently scribbled in my answer. It had been one of the first ones on my study guide, and was verbatim the same exact question. Were they all going to be this easy?
I flipped a page, and another page, and finally scribbled and filled in some more answers before I hit the last page, where there was an essay question. I was easily the furthest along in the class, and as I read the question, I tried to think of what I should write. I sucked at essay questions, and I knew that they were meant for critical thinking, but they never seemed to matter in the real world. I guess that’s most of school, though. It’s there to enlighten you, but it doesn’t always teach you things you’ll actually need. I was still waiting to use all the algebra I’d learned. Not sure it would ever happen.
I wrote in some bullshit answer, though I suppose it sounded okay, and put away my things before getting up at the same time as another kid and taking my test to the teacher. She smiled, nodding as I set down my exam. I slung my bag over my shoulder before walking out into the hallway and texting Blake that I was done with school and ready to go. He replied quickly, saying that Gustav would be there in a few minutes, and I walked out front and waited a short time before he pulled around and I got into the car.
Blake was still at his apartment, but he said he’d meet us with the bags downstairs so that we could leave right away. True to his word, he was standing in the garage as we pulled in, and he and Gustav put our bags in the trunk before Blake got in the car and kissed me hello.
“Ready for the trip of a lifetime?” he asked.
“Of a lifetime, huh? I suppose I am,” I said, smiling.
“After you meet some of these people you might be wishing it’s a trip that will only happen once in your lifetime,” he replied before buckling his seatbelt.
“Oh, it won’t be that bad,” I said.
“Gustav, you’ve met my mother before. What did you think?” Blake asked.
“Well, she’s lovely,” Gustav said.
“What do you really think?” Blake asked.
“She’s a little out there,” Gustav quickly replied, causing Blake to smile.
“See, I told you. She means well, I think, but she can be a little much sometimes. Just warning you,” Blake said.
Gustav pulled out of the garage and towards the airport as I looked out the window, trying to mentally prepare myself for the trip. I wasn’t nervous because of what Blake said, but more about just meeting his family. It was a huge step, but I knew I was ready to take it and move on to the next chapter in our relationship.
The jet sat on the tarmac and as Gustav pulled around to it, someone standing there opened my door and helped me out of the back seat. Blake got out on his side, and Gustav opened the trunk and pulled out the bags as two airport workers grabbed them and stowed them on board for us. Blake shook the pilots’ hands, I smiled and nodded, and we got on board, where the plush leather seats were waiting for our butts.
“I still can’t get over how nice this is,” I said as I ran my hand along the softened leather.
“Just imagine being in one of those itchy seats in coach and then look at this. It’s amazing, isn’t it? I make sure to say my prayers every time I get to fly like this. It could’ve been a lot different,” he said.
I quickly became nervous once the engines started to roar and we began our taxi as we waited for lift-off. I tried to be tough, grimacing through it, but I knew Blake could see right through me and see how much of a little girl I was being. Hopefully I’d get better with time, but if not, at least I was on a private jet and not stuffed like a sardine in some flying tube with two hundred other miserable souls.
Our flight was rather uneventful, and as we got closer to Iowa, I looked out the window to see snow-covered patches of cornfields below. They didn’t seem to end no matter how far we flew. We were definitely in the Midwest.
After circling around to get into position, the plane landed at a small airport that didn’t have much in terms of either buildings or amenities. It wasn’t a private airport, at least in the traditional sense of private back in San Francisco, but we had the privilege of having nobody else around aside from a few workers.
The plane taxied and the door opened before we walked out into air that was much more frigid than when we left a few hours ago. I saw my breath in front of me as I zipped up my jacket a little bit more and slipped my mittens on. A car, already on, sat nearby for us. The flight crew said goodbye and that they’d see us again in a few days. Blake walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for me before helping me in and closing it behind me. I felt the warm leather seats against my cold butt as I looked down to see the seat warmers on their highest setting.
A cold breeze shot inside when Blake got in the car, but quickly subsided once he closed his door behind him.
“How far away are we from your parents’ house?” I asked.
“About fifteen or twenty minutes. It isn’t too far. I know the way,” he said, and we buckled ourselves in and he pulled out of the tarmac and off the airport property.
I got glim
pses of a landscape like my own hometown as we drove down a narrow country road through empty cornfields towards his childhood home. It seemed like most of the Midwest was like this, all barren and agricultural, but I guess that was what made this place home. I always hated it growing up, but now that I’d been away from it for so long, I sort of enjoyed seeing it again. It made me feel like I was home even though I wasn’t.
After about twenty minutes of driving, we drove into a small town that didn’t have much in terms of activity. Some people were outside working, others walking around, but the small area didn’t have much else in terms of hustle and bustle. It was a far cry from San Francisco, and a farther cry from what I thought it would be like.
People looked at our car, a large black SUV, as we drove through town like we were the president’s motorcade coming through. They didn’t wave, not even looking all that friendly, but perhaps that was because we were outsiders in their tiny town and they didn’t know who we were.
After turning down a few streets, we pulled up to a house and Blake pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, and turned it off. We were here.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blake
I could see my mother in the window smiling from ear to ear as I got out of the car and planted my feet firmly on the driveway. I walked around to the trunk, opened it, and pulled our luggage out of the back before Penny came around and helped me with it.
“I saw her in the window,” I whispered, since I didn’t know if she had the door open or not.
“She’s just excited to see you,” she whispered back before I closed the trunk.
I walked around and as we walked up the driveway, my mother opened the front door of their small ranch and greeted me with a big hug and tons of smiles.
“I’m so happy you came, Blake,” she said as she swayed from side to side.
“I’m happy to see you too, Mom,” I said with a smile.
“And who might this be?” she asked, smiling, as she pushed her glasses back up her nose.
“Mom, this is Penny, my girlfriend. Penny, this is my mother, Wendy,” I said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hunter,” Penny said politely.
“Oh please, my name is Wendy. Mrs. Hunter is my husband’s mother,” she said, giving Penny a hug.
“Is Dad around?” I asked as I looked inside the living room.
“Of course I’m around. I live here, don’t I?” my father asked as he came out from around the corner and greeted me with a handshake.
That was typical of my father—not giving me hugs and instead just shaking my hand like a real man, or at least that was his reasoning. Hugs were for your momma and your daughter, but not for your son.
“Earl, this is Penny, Blake’s girlfriend,” my mother said.
“Nice to meet you. I hope your flight was all right,” my father said.
“Let’s get you two out of the cold before we get all chit-chatty,” my mother said, as we’d left the door open to the cold winter breeze.
We closed the door and took off our snowy shoes before my father helped me take our bags to my old room, which was just the way I’d left it. I had a few sports trophies on my dresser, though nothing spectacular, as I wasn’t the most coordinated when it came to that kind of stuff. I was just lucky to be on some winning teams, even though I didn’t contribute much to us winning those trophies.
As my father left the room I looked around for a second and smelled the air. It had this distinct smell that I’d never been able to place. It wasn’t a particular smell, at least I didn’t think so, but this house had smelled the same way all my life and likely long before I was born, and when I smelled it, I knew that I was home.
“Did you see anybody on the way in?” my mother asked as I walked back into the foyer.
“Nope, just a bunch of townies looking at the car like we were aliens,” I said.
“Well, look at that thing! No wonder they did,” my father said, looking out the window at the car.
“It’s what they had available for us. We didn’t pick it,” I said.
“Should’ve gotten yourself a truck. That’s what I would’ve done,” he said.
“This is a lovely home you’ve got,” Penny said, sensing that I was getting uncomfortable.
“Well, thank you, dear. It isn’t much, but what we have is mighty special,” my mother replied.
“Well, I love it,” Penny replied with a smile.
“Is dinner coming soon? Or do we have plans?” I asked.
“Oh, I thought we’d go to the diner for fish, if that’s okay,” my mother said.
“That’s fine, Mom. We can go anywhere you want to go,” I said.
“How about we leave in about forty-five minutes? That’ll give you guys time to unpack and freshen up before we leave,” she said.
“Sounds good. We’ll go do that now,” I said, leaning in and giving her a peck on the cheek.
As Penny and I walked away towards the bedroom, I already felt the tension building with every step. I wasn’t looking forward to going out. Not here.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Penelope
There was a certain charm to Blake’s family that I think he didn’t like to talk about. I could sense he was a little uncomfortable, but I think that’s sometimes to be expected when you go back home after being away for so long. While his mother was fairly warm and loving, at least from what I saw, his father was much, much different. It was easy to see that Blake didn’t receive the attention he wanted from him growing up, and maybe that was a small part of the reason why he sometimes acted the way he did.
“How many drawers do you need?” Blake asked as we opened our suitcases.
“One should be fine. I don’t have all too much with me,” I said as I began to take out my clothes.
“I’m sorry for that out there,” he said in a softer voice.
“For what?” I asked.
“The way they are. I know they can be a bit…much,” he said.
“They’re fine,” I said, smiling to reassure him.
“Just making sure. I’ve never really done this—showing them off and letting people in my life meet them. Most people would think they’re too country, you know?” he asked.
“I’m from Illinois, so I know how people like this can be. I wasn’t raised in some country club mansion, remember,” I said, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“I know you weren’t. Thankfully,” he said.
We put our clothes away and zipped up our suitcases before putting them in the closet. Blake let me freshen up if I wanted to, but he told me I didn’t need to get dressed up for where we were going. It wasn’t the kind of place where you needed to wear anything nice.
I went into the bathroom with my toiletry bag and put on a little more makeup before changing into a nice blue sweater and jeans that I’d gotten not too long ago. I kept my hair down, mostly because I’d just washed it earlier and it wasn’t looking greasy, and came out to see Blake had changed into a sweater and slacks of his own.
“You look nice,” I said with a smile as I set down my things.
“I try not to wear a suit when I’m here. It’s too Hollywood for them,” he said, smiling.
“We live in San Francisco,” I said.
“I know,” he said, smiling again.
“Are you two just about ready? We need to head out before we miss our table,” his mother said from outside.
“I take it this is a happening place?” I asked.
“For this town, yes,” he said.
All eyes were on us as we walked into the slightly crowded diner. It wasn’t too bad, about a third of the tables were still open, but it was the liveliest place I’d seen in this town so far. People got up from their tables, smiles on their faces, as they walked up and shook our hands like we were the Kennedys. I just went along with it as some of the older women hugged Blake and pinched his cheeks like they were his grandmothers. It was sweet seeing how he just w
ent along with it and didn’t push them away, instead reciprocating their love and kindness. I didn’t think I’d seen this from him at home.
“My, my, Mr. Blake Hunter, how are you, son?” a man with suspenders that kept his blue jeans just below his potbelly said as he walked from the back.
“Hello, Harold, it’s nice to see you,” Blake said as he extended his hand.
“Oh come now, we’re basically family! Give me a hug!” he said before giving Blake a hug.
“This is Harold, the owner of the diner and some other places in town. Harold, this is my girlfriend, Penny,” Blake said, introducing me.
“Well hello there, beautiful,” Harold said, as he grabbed my hands and spun me around.
“Watch yourself,” Blake said in a playful tone.
“You picked yourself a beauty there, Blakey, that’s for sure. So, are you guys here for supper?” Harold asked.
“You betcha,” Earl said, clutching his stomach.
“Well, let’s get you guys a table and some drinks,” Harold said, grabbing four menus and guiding us to a corner booth, which must’ve been treasured with the way Blake’s mother acted when we got it.
“Look over the menu, we made some changes since last time, and I’ll go get you guys some water before you order,” Harold said, knocking on the end of the table and walking away.
I opened my menu and was met with all the normal items you’d get at any small-town diner anywhere in the Midwest. I knew Wendy wanted the fish fry, and I planned on going along with her and getting it, but I couldn’t help looking over everything else. I missed this type of food sometimes. You just couldn’t get it back in San Francisco.
“I can smell that fish cooking right in back,” Earl said, a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.
“It brings back a lot of memories,” Blake said.
“Remember the time you just had to know how they cook that fish? He was about five or six, waist high, and he just wouldn’t relent,” Wendy said, laughing, as she talked to me. “He said, ‘Mama, I want to see them make the fish,’ and Harold finally relented and took him in the back and let him make the fish for our entire table. Well, that was sweet and all, but it definitely wasn’t cooked or prepared like usual, let’s just say.”
