"I'm here, I'm here," he gripes. "What is this?" He rudely asks, staring at Todd.
"Dad," I say in a low voice. "It's Todd. I told you we're dating, remember? I invited him to Sunday supper."
My Dad slowly nods his head but keeps a watchful eye on Todd.
Todd stands to greet him despite my dad's cold appearance. "Hi, Mr. Baldwin, I'm Todd. It's a pleasure to meet you again, sir." Dad grunts and shakes his hand.
I was nervous at how Todd would behave in front of my family. I know how he feels about them, and I know he doesn't really want to come to these dinners. In fact, I don't know how I ever convinced him to come. He's already gone above and beyond. Not to mention that little kiss in front of Josh to prove that little jerk wrong. Plus, that moment upstairs on my bed.
"Amelia?" Todd nudges my foot underneath the table. I snap back to reality. Thank goodness. Lately, when I think about Todd, my thoughts turn dirty pretty fast. "Do you want some corn?" He's holding out the bowl of corn in front of me.
"Oh, um, sure," I reply, taking the bowl, and scooping some on my plate. Once I pass the bowl to my right, he hands me a plate of ham, and this continues until we have all served ourselves. Todd grabs his fork, and starts shoving corn in his mouth like he's never had the pleasure of eating before. I cough, and stomp lightly on his foot to get his attention. He looks up to find everyone staring at him with raised––and yes, judgmental––eyes. I wince, and he slowly puts down his fork and swallows the remaining food in his mouth. He looks completely perplexed as to what is going on. I offer my hand in front of him and that's when he notices that everyone around the table is holding hands. He quickly takes my hand and presents his other to my mother, who sits opposite my dad at the head of the table.
"Todd, start us off please," my dad tells him, looking at Todd like he knows he's setting a trap.
"Um, no, I can do it. I don't mind–" I try to intervene, but Todd jumps in anyway.
"Our father who art in heaven..." he begins, and everyone joins in.
My face is frozen in shock for a moment, until I remember that Todd went to Mount St. Mary's too and, even if he's not Catholic, he still knows all of the prayers. I've never even bothered to ask if he is Catholic. For all I know, he could be. I don't really know anything about Todd. The thought saddens me, and my sullen face must be too obvious because Todd reaches under the table to find my hand after everyone has begun eating. He squeezes it, then lets go. My face brightens just enough for me to forget how crappy I felt for not trying to get to know him more.
"Todd," my dad starts, in between eating pieces of meat. "Thanks for fixing Amelia's car." With his accent it sounds more like, Ameliar's cah. Ridiculous, right? Why would my parents name me something that they can't even say right? I'm always "Ameliar" to my dad because of his Boston accent. I'm used to it, but I still find it a little embarrassing when anybody else hears him say my name. But I guess a parent's job is to embarrass their kids at least a little. I love him, but...the accent kills me sometimes....and sometimes it makes me laugh like crazy.
"Of course, sir. It was no problem. I was happy to do it." I could swear he says it through gritted teeth. "After all, Amelia's my girl," he announces while giving my leg a nice little grab and pat under the table. I immediately turn crimson while my dad just grunts and goes back to eating, and my mom huffs before taking a sip of her wine. Josh rolls his eyes and keeps his mouth shut for once. Josh is now on his best behavior in front of our parents; because he is, after all, the golden child. The prodigal freaking son.
Once we finish eating and everyone is seemingly content, Todd offers to help my mom and me clear the table. Dad has already gone to his office, and Monica and Josh are upstairs doing God knows what.
"Oh, that's okay, Todd. I can handle the clean up. I imagine you need to get home and rest. I'm sure you have work in the morning. I know Amelia does, and she needs to get some rest as well," she says, feigning politeness. It's clear that she's trying to get Todd to leave, which makes me irate. I cross my arms and shake my head in disbelief. Sure, Todd has to leave, but Monica and Josh are probably upstairs rounding some bases.
"Uh, right," Todd awkwardly agrees. "I guess I should get going. Thank you again for dinner, Mrs. Baldwin."
She grins tightly and replies, "Mmk. Goodbye." She turns her back to us, and starts scrubbing dishes.
"I'll walk you out," I tell him. I grab his hand and lead him out. As we walk through the living room, my dad has taken his spot on the sofa. He eyes us holding hands, and just can't resist saying something. He practically growls.
"No need to hold hands. He's not a baby, Amelia, he doesn't need his hand held," he reprimands me. Todd drops my hand, and I couldn't be more embarrassed.
"Dad!" I scowl.
"It's fine," Todd tells me, continuing to walk to the front door. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Baldwin. You have a very nice home."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just don't touch my daughter," he rudely says, his inner "Masshole" really coming out. Todd nods, and I practically push him out the door. I can't stand being in there with them. I certainly can't even imagine how Todd feels about it.
It's not until we are halfway down the driveway that one of us breaks the silence. "Is it sad that I actually think it went better than I expected?" He asks, walking side-by-side with me with his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks.
"Todd, I'm so sorry. I know the whole point of this was to rile them up, but I never imagined them actually being rude to you." I look down, and count the cracks in the cement as we walk.
"It's okay. I expected it. It's working, at least," he comments, more positive than I expect him to be.
"What's working?"
He gives me a slight grin. "The plan. Your parents aren't happy about you seeing me, and I think it's safe to say that any guy you date after me will be wholeheartedly accepted by them," he explains, his voice getting sad by the end of his sentence.
"Oh, yeah, the plan," I stupidly say. I'm quiet for a moment, because I'm really not sure what to say. "I guess it is working." A lame response, but it’s all I can think of to say. We stop walking and I finally notice that we're at his motorcycle. Motorcycle? "Wait, you drove your motorcycle? Are you sure that's okay?"
"Eh," he responds, rubbing his ribcage. "I took it out when I went to see–uh, just to test it out and see how it felt, and I drove it a lot faster than I should've so I'm actually pretty sore today," he tells me looking rather uncomfortable all of a sudden. Poor thing.
"You didn't have to drive it. I would've come to get you."
"Ha," he blurts out. "What? Call my fake girlfriend to pick me up for dinner back at her house so we can dupe her parents? Nah." He chuckles.
I have no idea what's funny but I say, "Yeah, I guess that's pretty...silly?" I feel very awkward now for having even said anything.
"Don't worry about me, Sweet Cheeks. I'll be fine. What's the plan for this week?" He throws on leg over the bike.
"Um, how about we do Wednesday and Friday, and then Sunday dinner," I offer. "When are your days off?"
"I have Sunday and Monday off."
"Oh. You made it seem like–back in there..." I stutter, point to my house. "That you have work tomorrow."
"No, your Mom made it seem like I have work tomorrow."
I look down guiltily even though I'm not sure why. "So, then, what are you going to do right–"
"I have to go," he interrupts me. My face hardens at his abrupt rudeness. He turns the key to his bike and revs the engine. I take a step back so he doesn't run me over, because, for whatever reason, there seems to be a possibility that he might. I glare at him, and he rolls his eyes. "I'll see you on Wednesday. Goodbye, Amelia." And just like that, he zooms away, and I take my sad heart back inside.
22
–– Todd ––
I had to bust out of there before I choked and drowned. It was a weird fucking evening. Her parents were complete assholes. Some Catholics judging me, treating me like I'm
a shitty person just because of the way I look, my job, and the fact that I drive a damn bike. I take a long pull from the Jack Daniel’s bottle in my hand, and then chase it with a gulp from a PBR tall can. I played it off like it didn't irritate me but it did. Of course it did. Her mom basically kicked me out of the house. Yet, I was a perfect gentleman the entire night. Okay, aside from having to hide behind Amelia when we went downstairs, because my dick got hard from accidentally touching her silk panties.
It all just bubbled up once I was outside. Then I made it even worse by almost mentioning Becky. I'm a simple dude. I've kept my life simple. Right now it feels like there are so many things happening, and so many things I have to keep straight. I have to deal with Al and Amelia's judgmental parents, work extra hours to pay for Amelia's car that is just sitting in the back of her driveway, pretend to be Amelia's boyfriend, and fuck Becky without letting her think I'm her boyfriend because in reality, I'm nobody's boyfriend and that's the way it should be. I've kept it that way for a reason. It's easier. Nobody gets hurt. It’s simple. I'm up front and honest. I told Becky I don't date. Amelia knows I don't date. It's fake, and we're very clear about that. There's some sexual tension hanging around us, but I had to kiss her to prove her asshole brother wrong. And the panty thing...whatever, things are bound to happen when you spend time with an attractive woman. I get turned on. It happens. So yeah, there's some sexual tension but it'll go away. That's part of the reason I took off so fast. I don't want her to start thinking that this is anything more than what it is––fake.
I take another long swig of Jack Daniel’s, and chase it again with the PBR. At least I have two days before I have to see Amelia. A cooling off period to put things back into perspective for her, in case she was getting any ideas or feelings. Although when I sped off she looked pretty pissed. Come Wednesday I'm not going to have to worry about her wanting a real relationship with me, I'm going to have to worry that she might kill me. At least then I wouldn't have to go to Sunday dinner ever again.
I groan, and tilt my head back against my bedroom wall. As soon as I walked in, I grabbed the whiskey and beer from the kitchen, and sat down on my unmade bed with my back against the wall. I look around my room. I could never bring Amelia here. There are cracks in the walls and paint chipping all over the place. There are even some paint spots dried on the floor, littering cracked, uneven wood floor with light green speckles. In one corner, all of my old lacrosse crap is stacked. My workout bag, all my pads, two sticks, and even my old Mount St. Mary's lacrosse uniform. My bed sits on a box spring on the floor. My closet is the only saving grace. I wear practically the same thing every day, but I keep my dirty clothes in one spot and my clean clothes hanging. Somehow the closet is a stark contrast with the rest of the messy room. Not even messy--shitty. It's shitty.
This entire house is shitty. Al doesn't take care of shit. Sure, he changes the occasional light bulb and heats up whatever food he may eat, but he's a waste. As soon as my big sister, Kristin, hit ten, she started taking care of everything––including me. She's the one that really raised me. Not anymore though. I'm a grown ass man still stuck with Al in this terrible house. She married Julian Ramirez, a TV news producer (nuts, right?) and they have a baby, Danny. My nephew. He's the shit. Kristin's an amazing mom, and Julian takes really good care of them. I couldn't have asked for more for her.
I take a small sip of the whiskey and pull out my phone to FaceTime Kristin. I push her picture on my phone and the green camera icon. She picks up almost immediately, and I hear Danny screaming.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's going on over there?" I ask as soon as I see her nearly wrestling with Danny.
"Hey, little brother! Just–" Danny turns, and hits her face with his head. "You know, trying to get–" Danny is now upside down on her lap, and she's trying to get him right side up. "Danny!" She yells. "It's time for bed! This behavior is unacceptable!"
"Hey, Danny! Danny, it's Uncle Todd." I peer into the screen, and he pauses long enough to get Kristin to sit him upright.
"Look! Look," she tells Danny softly. She holds the phone up for him to see me. "It's uncle Todd."
"Hi! Hi!" He greets me with a big smile and an even bigger wave, almost flying out of my sister's arms.
"Wow, take it easy buddy. I hear it's your bedtime," I casually mention. He pouts instantly.
"I don't wanna!" He starts to squirm again. Kristin groans.
"Hey, Danny, what if I read you a bedtime story? Do you think I can do that?" I offer.
"Yeah! Yeah, Mommy, please?" He looks at her with those big cheeks, and sparkling charcoal eyes. His eyes he definitely got from Julian. Kristin and I have the same gold eyes.
"Yes, of course he can, but you have to promise to be good. Can you go get in bed, please, and I'll be in there in just one minute?" She tells him, setting him down on the ground. He claps, and nods his head. He takes off down the hall to his room. Kristin takes a massive sigh. She looks at me. "Thank you," she exasperates. "He's starting to rebel more and more. It's insane. Do you have a book?" She starts walking and then glances at me right as I'm taking a sip of beer. "Are you drunk?" She whisper-yells which makes me laugh.
"Yes, now let me read to my nephew or I'll scream," I threaten. She gives me a deathly stare in return.
Once she's in Danny's room she pulls a book up to the camera, and I read to him until he falls asleep a whole three minutes later.
I sigh after telling Kristin goodbye. I want that. I want a screaming kid to try and put to sleep. I want to be a dad. A good dad. I want a wife. I want someone to take care of me when I get sick.
I think of Amelia. She's the only woman I've ever dated, so she’s the only person I can even begin to correlate with the idea of a “forever person.” And I'm not even with her. I'm "with" her. I'm fake-with her. What if I was with her? For real. What if Amelia is my forever person? I shake my head and get dizzy. No way. Not ten minutes ago I was hoping she wouldn’t get attached to me. I just want to bone her because she won't let me, and now it's affecting my brain. I'm sure if I slept with her once, I'd be over it. Obviously I can't do that. She's not that kind of a girl. She deserves better than that. Better than me. "Ugh," I groan. She deserves that nerd back at The Diner. I down the rest of my beer and crush the can in my hand, then I throw it as hard as I can across the room. It does nothing but make a tink-tank noise.
I lightly bang my head against the wall a few times. Amelia is better than me, deserves better than me. My insides tighten, and my blood gets hot thinking of her with that guy––Justin. Living their perfect life together just like Kristin and Julian. Justin having some good paying job in some office and having kids and Amelia being a completely fuckable pregnant woman and even a more fuckable wife. I bet she'd be so good at all of it. I'm not good enough for any of it. I just need to play this ridiculous "house" game with Amelia for another two weeks then I can go back to my lifestyle, and she can go back to being perfect without all my bullshit hanging around. Then we'll never see each other ever again.
I take two big pulls from the bottle, then set it down as the whiskey burns my throat. I lie down, and darkness consumes me.
I wake up just before noon on Monday with a massive hangover. My head feels like there's a spear through it. My stomach feels...like a bucket of acid is rolling around in it. I need something greasy to eat STAT. I sit up on my bed and have to brace one hand on the mattress and one on the small wooden nightstand next to my bed. The room spins so much that I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I groan, then slowly open them, praying that everything is still. I stumble out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom, where I take the longest piss of my life.
The combined smell of sweat, stale beer, and ripe whiskey radiates from my pores. The white undershirt I had on under my old school uniform shirt has what I assume are beer stains on it, and there are dark bags under my eyes. Forget my hair. I tried to tame it for Amelia's Sunday dinner, but now that it's getting longer, my naturally-
wavy hair is starting to curl. It looks greasy and it falls down on my face. Wow, if Amelia and her family could see me now. The thought alone makes my stomach churn, and I have to lean against the counter for support. A wave of shame rolls over me. I'm turning into Al––everything I hate. My stomach seizes and I retch out green stomach acid. The bright viscous liquid slowly streams down the drain. Fucking Al. Of course, my fear of turning into my dad would be the thing to push me over the edge and make me puke.
I brush my teeth and strip down to shower. The hot water stings me, but I can feel the grime, fear, confusion, and shame start to run off me and down the drain. My skin is red from fiercely scrubbing, and the shower water raining down on me is almost painfully hot. I stick my head under the water, hoping it will somehow cleanse me and ease my mind. It only half works so I turn the faucet off and head back to my room.
It's suppose to be my day off, but since I have to work off Amelia's car I actually have to go in anyway. I didn't want to tell Amelia that. She would've felt bad, and I don't want to have to deal with a sad Amelia. As soon as she gets sad, her confidence completely disappears and she just shuts down. When she's angry she's fearless. But the best is when she's just herself. The way she was at the aquarium was awesome. We were both so excited, and she kept pushing up her glasses with her palm. Man, I wanted to kiss her. Maybe I should have. Damnit! I can't think about this. It's driving me insane. I don't have to see her until Wednesday.
I put on fresh jeans and shirt. After I pull on my boots I grab my phone...which is dead, of course. I plug it in. Out of habit, I check my back jean pockets for my wallet even though I know it's not there. I throw clothes around to find my slacks. I fish through the pockets, and the wallet isn't there, so I toss them back across the room. I start kicking around clothes and when that fails I pull apart my already sad looking bed. I tear the blankets off, and throw them up in the air in case it's stuck in wrinkle of blanket. Nothing. I sort through the nightstand and then rummage through the entire bathroom. Still nothing. I sigh getting more and more irritated. I can't do much without a wallet.
Wrong Place, Right Time Page 11