I expected this to be up sooner but I ran out of time and went into a building/cleaning spree. My apologies. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
*****
I sat uncomfortably in the black Mercedes sedan that Dylan rented. He was stiff and it was making me stiff. The car wasn't him. He was more creative in his car choices and this felt more like a hearse. We would've had a better ride in a Honda.
Reaching out, I took his hand and placed it squarely on my stomach. I felt the tension ease out of him. There was something about feeling what he'd done to me that made him contented. His hand worked in small circles, the fabric of the dress wrinkling a little from his work.
It was a cute dress. Cindy bought it for me. It was nautical with white and blue stripes, loose of course, and had a bow behind the neck in a halter top. It was casual and sweet. A silk magnolia blossom graced my curls.
I put my hand over his. "Dylan..."
"Don't worry. I'm on my best behavior." His hand didn't stop and I relaxed my arm so our hands could move as one.
I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted to hear just now. The first time he met my parents, they were on their best behavior but we were heading into their territory. I reminded myself how different things were now. Here I was, a married woman, child on the way. I could be objective when it came to my parents.
The giant oak and magnolia trees told me I was home. They littered our yard and were one of my mother's many pride and joys as well as her rose bushes. I saw her and my father standing on the front steps of the blue two-story. She was in her Sunday finest, a beautiful gold suit that neatly fit her. The hat was large and eye catching, old school first lady.
My father was in a nice suit, red suspenders just peeking out from under his dark blazer. They were what he called "necessary vanity". I'm sure he thought of himself as Atticus Finch or something or maybe he'd just made us watch that movie too much. Either way they stood waiting on us in full southern regalia and high and mighty smugness. Dread chilled me down to my bones.
"We can turn around right now." His voice was solid and serious.
"Of course not Dylan, come on and let's do this." I gripped his hand and put on a big smile as he parked.
He parked but leaned in to look as if he was kissing my cheek. "I dislike this."
"I know; I'm sorry." I whispered quietly through my bared teeth.
He kissed the back of my hand and exited the car before coming over to my side. After opening my door, he leaned across to unbuckle my seatbelt, letting his cologne waft over me. He wore my favorite scent and I just took a second to wrap my arms around him in a hug.
Dylan lifted with me, taking the advantage of the hold to ease me out of the car. When I pulled back, I saw that charming mask hiding my favorite monster. Once again I had to look at the man who hired me and not the one I married.
We walked up the front steps in our false joy. "Hi Mama, Hi Daddy."
"Why Pristine, you look about to pop!" My mother reached for me, snatching me from Dylan and hugging me tight. "Oh but you could have dressed up just a bit."
And so it began. I heard my father briskly shake Dylan's hand with just the acknowledgement of his name. It was already starting so awfully.
I pried myself from my mother's hold and hugged my father. He gripped me for a few moments before patting my back to state that the hug had ended. It was his patented church hug, the same one I grew up with. In fact, I wasn't sure I'd ever received a "real" hug from my father.
"I put on tea; I thought it would be nice to have a chat in the sunroom while you rest your legs. You're a little late, so it's a little cool, how long did you say you all are staying?" My mother pulled my arm, easing me through the door. My father followed and Dylan took up the rear.
"Three days." I stole a glance back at my husband. The mask was still in place except for his eyes. He was not a fan of being this far from me.
"Oh that's good! You could've come a little closer to the weekend though. It would have been nice to see you at a service, although... you might not remember it much since you've started attending... Oh heavenly father, what do they call them? Dylan, what's the name of those meetings your people have in those cathedrals."
"We call them masses, Mrs. Evans." He answered with hollow warmth that made me cringe. Church folk, especially head ministers and first ladies could act up and my mother was showing her ass in front of my husband. I wanted to curl up and dye right at that moment.
We made our way into the sun room. There was tea and cookies and cakes. My mother idolized English high tea and loved to show off the sets she collected. I took the opportunity of her releasing my arm to slide back to Dylan's side so we could sit together on the loveseat on one side. My parents mirrored us on the opposite side: my mother in quiet judgment and my father in absent disapproval.
