I knew that this wasn't going to be something I'd want to repeat anytime soon. Sitting in our room, on the edge of our bed, I couldn't begin to fathom just how this weekend would turn out, but nonetheless, I was destined to carry out this act of courtesy like so many before me have done, and so many after will do. But, now was the time. Now I must face my accusers, which will judge me for a crime I am surely guilty of, yet feel no remorse for. I am guilty of loving their daughter.
"Honey? Are you ready to go?" she screamed up from downstairs. "We're going to be later for dinner!" "Yes Sara. I was just grabbing some aspirin." for the headache I felt coming on far too long. As I went downstairs, I saw here standing there in the foyer like the beauty she has always been. The soft glow caressed her face like a sun's rays accent a cloud. The smile on her lips and look of approval from her eyes was enough to encourage me to do anything.
"I love you Matthew." she says while pressing her body close to me and kissing me so soft, yet with the depth of an ocean chasm. "I love you too baby, with all my heart." I took her in my arms and held her close, longing for a wave of comfort that she had given me so many times before. I could feel her body responding to the touch of my hands. I felt her nipples firming and pressing against my warm chest, throbbing to the beat of my heart. There's no resisting, but to take my tongue and slide it down across her neck, tasting the scent she fills my air with, and inhaling deeply it's sweet...
"MATTHEW, Stop that! We're going to be late." {Sigh}
There was no way I could sit for 4 hours and let the complexity of my thoughts muddle over the countless possibilities that I could encounter on this weekend. I've always thought of myself as someone who was good at doing this. I've always seemed to get a positive response in the past, so why would this be any different? Could it be that we're spending the whole weekend there? I'm subjecting myself to the torture of not having the pleasure of her body for 2 days. Not being able to feel her softness wrapped around me as it was for so long on the night we first met. What person would open themselves to this mental torture? I guess our forefathers never considered meeting her parents as cruel and unusual punishment, or they would have written that into the 8th Amendment. I laid my head upon the rest of the seat, in the hopes of napping through a journey into what was certain to be an unprecedented level of hell.
"What the hell was that?" being ever so rudely awakened.
"The drainage ditch at the bottom of the driveway." she said.
It felt more like a drainage canyon. That's typical among these country driveways, these long dirt roads winding through the trees leading up to a home. Regardless, here we were, pulling up to the house. My heart is pounding harder than the bass from Eminem on the radio talking about hating his mother. How quaintly ironic I thought. I opened the door of the car and began to step out, stretching from being in one position for so long. Standing there, looking at my home for the next two days.
{BUUUUUUUUZZZZOOOOOOMMM} "WHAT IN THE NAME OF!"
"What now?" she said.
"What was that! Some kind of prehistoric mosquito?"
"Haven't you ever seen a hummingbird?"
"Sure, on T.V. I didn't know they doubled as dive bombers though."
She shrugged off the comment and went up to the house, while I got the bags from the car. Following her into the house, I asked where I should drop the bags, and she pointed me to what would be our sanctum for the weekend. I set them down, and proceeded to the bathroom for the only relief I was going to be getting it seemed. I looked at myself in the mirror, splashed some cold water on my face and woke up to the reality of being here. "Well, I may as well make the best of it." I said to myself.
Her stepfather was sitting in the living room watching NASCAR when I came out of the bathroom. He jumped up to greet me.
"Hi, I'm Ronny."
"I'm Matthew. Good to finally meet you." I replied with a well-practiced and diplomatic smile.
As I shook his hand, I gazed at the walls and décor of the home. Clad with pictures of scenes of hunting, and hearing the ever-familiar sounds of the Brickyard in the background, I suddenly realized, this must be the first gate of hell. A wreck on T.V. interrupted our greeting and as he quickly shifted his focus back to racing, he asked
"Do you like NASCAR?"
"I used to live in Indianapolis, and after seeing the Brickyard and being immersed in the culture, it loses its romantic appeal."
He seemed somewhat confused by my review of racing as if I was commenting on some masterpiece of art or opera, and quickly settled back into his elliptic vertigo of horsepower and speed. I looked to Sara who was standing at the kitchen table fiddling with her purse and asked in a whispered tone,
"Smoke?"
She looks to me and points out to the back deck from whence we came in. I flashed her a smile and mouthed, "I love you" as I made my way out back.
Still somewhat asleep from my vehicular slumber, I took in the surroundings and I puffed on what seemed to be the only vice I was allowed. I couldn't even do that in the manner I am accustomed to. As I stare off into the flora and fauna surrounding me, my mind drifts off to a comparison of my life, as it is this instant, with the literature lining the shelves of libraries I've read. The days of losing myself in the writings of W Somerset Maugham return to me while I think of 'The Moon and Sixpence' as he said, "A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him the sacrifices he makes on her account." Oh those words ring so true to me right now.
