'Love is a candle. It must be kept burning. If ignored and forgotten, the hot wax will melt away, the fruits burn away, and the passion extinguished.'
'Angst is what keeps love burning. Being perfect is doomed to failure.'
~~~~~
Joseph and Ali had been dating for a few months, and the flame of their relationship flared with each passing day. They moved in together, into Ali's larger apartment. The first day of November was the beginning of their Christmas vacation.
Joey'd been sleeping on the couch, sleeping off the late night he'd had at work. He woke up, and Ali was on the phone.
"Sure daddy, it's no problem. If I can, I'll convince him to meet you." said Ali.
Joey sat up. "Damn," he said quietly.
Ali hung up, and turned to see Joey.
"Mornin'. That was-" she started.
"Your dad, I heard," said Joey, standing up and stretching.
"He wants us to go to his and mom's house for Christmas," explained Ali.
"Please, tell me they live in town," begged Joey.
"Sorry, but they live in St. Louis. Please, can we go? Please?" she begged, giving him those puppy dog eyes. The battle was over and done.
"Yes. When do we leave?" Joseph asked.
"Let's go now," she suggested. "It'll be good to suprise him.
"Do you want me to dress fancy or casually?" sighed Joey.
"Might as well dress normally," she said.
They dressed, ate, and left for St. Louis. They had a three hour trip, and on about 6 hours of sleep, Joseph was tired of the trip. He'd been in St. Louis before, and he hated it. Too many people, too much noise. That's why he liked Silent Springs, it was nice and quiet.
After three hours stuck in the Camarro, they finally arrived in the outskirts of St. Louis, a place where Joey thought a 'Turn Back' sign should be, and another hour of searching, they found Ali's parents.
While he unloaded stuff from the car, Ali ran up the concrete steps, and she fell. Joey dropped stuff from the car, and ran over to her.
"You okay?" he asked, helping her up.
"Yeah, think I slipped on some ice," she answered, wiping her dress off.
"You sure?" he asked again.
"Yes, doctor. Come on, go get the stuff, I'll talk daddy down for you," she promised.
"If you say anything..." he threatened jokingly.
He finished getting the stuff up off the road and out of the car and went up to the porch, knocking. Ali opened the door.
"Hello sir, may I help you?" she asked, a small smile on her face.
"Come on, Ali," he begged, trying not to sound like they were flirting.
"I don't think I've seen you before," she said, her smile growing.
Ali opened the door, letting him in. A man, about sixty, sat in a leather armchair. He had thin, brown hair with grey flecks in it.
"Good afternoon, son. I hope you had a good trip here," said the man.
"Yes, I did, sir. You must be Mr. Wilson. She's told me a lot about you," said Joseph, in an attempt to be as respectful as possible.
"Good things, I hope? She's told us quite a bit while she's been in here, too, and on the phone this morning," he replied.
"She said that you owned a restaurant, and that you made the best pasta in the city," said Joey, still holding the luggage.
"Yes, it was a fine business. I'll show you pictures of it, later," he said.
Joey knew that Mr. Wilson was challenging him, to see if he'd break, and ask to see their room.
"Daddy, perhaps you should show Joey to our room," suggested Ali.
"Ah, yes, I forgot all about that. Come along, Joseph," said Mr. Wilson, turning and leading him away at a suprisingly quick stride.
Joey shot Ali a look, and went on upstairs after Mr. Wilson, luggage still in tow. Mr. Wilson showed him to a room, that had blue walls, probably wallpaper. He noticed a couch, and obviously made the connection, that there was to be where he slept, while Ali got the bed, even if it was a bed for two.
"Just leave the stuff on the bed, and let's go downstairs and have some coffee, have a nice man-to-man chat," said Mr. Wilson.
'Damn, saw this coming,' thought Joseph, although that isn't what left his lips. "Yes, sir."
They sat down alone at the wooden patio table on the back porch. Ali sat in the living room, talking with Mrs. Wilson.
"Mom, what do you think they're talking about?" she asked curiously.
"You know your father. He's probably trying to put the fear of God in the man. He is handsome, though, I'll give him that," said Mrs. Wilson.
"Yes, he is. He really is trying. I almost had to talk him out of wearing a dress shirt and tie," Ali said.
Mrs. Wilson laughed. Meanwhile, there wasn't as much joy to the conversation.
