Echoes of You

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as perfect as you and your dad.”

  “Perfect? Far from it. Dad’s brought me up to not be a strain on society. We get into some pretty huge fights. Massive. Dad became an alcoholic when Mom left. The bottle was his coping tool. He’s been sober for about twelve years now. The alcohol made him an asshole.”

  “Wow.” I lean against the kitchen counter and watch as Dylan divides the remainder of the food into various containers. “You’re a good son,” I say.

  “I may not be a good son, but I’m definitely not an asshole.” He divvies it all up, places the lids on, and places them in his (crazily organized) freezer. I catch him yawning, which instantly makes me yawn too. “I have dessert, and a movie,” he says.

  “Hmm, I think I’m going to have to go.”

  “But it’s only…” He takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at the time. “Crap, it’s eleven. Have you really been here for hours?”

  “Oh, sorry?” I question skeptically.

  “Oh my God! I didn’t mean like that. I meant, I love having you here, and time goes by so fast when I’m with you.”

  “Nice save. But I’m still going to go. Thank you for dinner.”

  “I’m thinking I’ll make pizzas Saturday night.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “An open invitation. I’d really like it if you come for dinner Saturday night.”

  “Okay.”

  He moves in close to me. His body heat rolls off him, and onto me. He towers over me, and I love how his body is like a blanket over mine. He makes me feel safe. Tilting my head up, I watch as he closes the gap between us. He brings his hand up, and gently trails his fingers up and down my neck. “Can I kiss you?”

  I don’t have the courage to say yes. Instead, I nod.

  He lowers his head, and kisses me softly on the cheek. My heartbeat goes into crazy mode. He lightly brushes his warm lips from my cheek, to my ear, then down my neck. Jesus, it’s getting hot in here.

  I push my body into his, wanting more.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers between delicate kisses to my lips.

  Our kiss is sensual. He breaks away, leaving me breathless and wanting. I look down at the kitchen counter, trying to focus on anything but his mouth. I take several deep breaths, straighten my back, and hold my head high. “Thank you for dinner,” my voice cracks. Stepping away, I gather my bag, and take my keys out.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he says. Taking my hand, he walks me to my car. Every moment together makes my head spin. I can’t help but love how I feel around Dylan.

  “This boy, Dylan, you’ve been hanging out with him quite a bit. You also have a stupid smile whenever you talk about him. Serious, huh?” Mom asks as I prepare salads for us for lunch. I can’t help but smile when she speaks his name. “Like that.” She points to my goofy smile.

  “Yeah, I like him. I think I like him a lot.”

  Mom moves so she’s leaning against the counter. “Your father and I think it would be a good idea to invite him to dinner.”

  “Yeah?” I turn to look at her. “You want to meet him?” I’m so excited.

  “We want to make sure there are no red flags.” I crinkle my brows together, thinking about Preston. “What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  “Tina’s boyfriend.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about him. I don’t think much of him.”

  “Has Tina said something?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. But have you noticed she’s a bit more distant lately? She’s not talking to me. It’s been over a week. We’ve never gone this long without talking.”

  “Hmm,” Mom huffs. “Maybe we can have Dylan and Preston over for dinner.” She purses her lips tightly together. “Do you think Dylan would like to come to dinner tonight?”

  “What? Tonight? Um, I don’t know.” I’m not going to lie, a bit of panic courses through me.

  “Can you ask? I’ll have Preston come too. I want to meet this boy, and see what kind of vibes I get from him.”

  “Preston or Dylan?”

  “Both. But more so Preston. Tina doesn’t always make the best decisions when it comes to the opposite sex.”

  “I suppose I can ask Dylan, see what he has to say.”

  “Good. Do that for me, Molly.” Mom walks away, heading out of the kitchen.

  I reach for my phone sitting on the counter, and send Dylan a message. I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask. I go back to chopping the vegetables. Dylan doesn’t reply, instead he calls. I answer, “Hey. You didn’t have to call. I know you’d be busy at work.”

  “Any chance to talk to you is good. Anyway, I’m having a shit day at work, and I need the distraction. What is it?”

  Now I feel bad. Putting the pressure on him to come to dinner tonight. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” I say. My voice deceives me though, it breaks with disappointment.

  “Come on, what is it?”

  “Ugh. I’m sorry to ask this, but do you mind coming for dinner tonight? My parents want to meet you. Actually, it’ll be you and Preston too.”

  “Um,” there’s a slight pause. “Sure. What time?”

  “Are you sure? I can tell my parents you can’t make it.”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’d love to meet them.”

  I smile like a fool. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t. Speaking of meeting parents. Dad’s coming to pizza night, is that cool?”

  “Yes! I’d love to officially meet him.”

  “Great. I’m sorry, Molly, I have to go. I’ve got this problem I’m dealing with and I have to get back to it.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “You already have. You’ve made my day better just by hearing from you.”

  Stupid smile. “Alright, I’ll text you my address and time.”

  “Bye.”

  I hang up, staring at my phone like a goofball. I finish the salads, and set the table for Mom and me.

  It doesn’t take Mom long before she heads back into the kitchen. “Did you speak with Tina?” I ask.

  “Yep. She and Preston are coming to dinner.” Mom doesn’t sound happy. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek as she stares out the back door.

  “You okay?” My gut tightens with worry. Zhen gets up from where he was sleeping, and rubs up against my leg. Zorro lifts his head, then lowers it again.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She forces a smile. I know she’s not, but she’s hanging onto whatever’s bothering her. “Thank you for setting the table, I did have intentions of doing it.”

  “It’ll be okay, Mom.”

  She nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Dylan says the moment I open the door. He’s holding flowers in his right hand. “I’d give you a hug, but I know I’d crush these. And no, they’re not for you, they’re for your mom.” The bouquet is fairly large, consisting of a range of white flowers, with some pops of yellow and green.

  “They’re beautiful. She’ll love them.”

  He steps inside, leans down and gives me a soft peck on the cheek. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes to savior the aroma. “I could smell that from outside. What is it?”

  “Mom’s made beef and bacon meatloaf, garlic knots, and roasted vegetables.”

  “Yum. My stomach just growled. It’s almost like you were speaking with it directly.” He chuckles.

  “Dylan, right?” I hear Mom approaching.

  “Hello Mrs. Dawson, I’m honored to be invited for dinner.” Mom nears us, and goes in for a cheek kiss. Dylan, being the man he is, obliges. “For you, ma’am.” He hands Mom the flowers.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, and please call me Paris.”

  “Dinner smells amazing.”

  “Dylan, right?” Dad asks as he ma
kes his way toward us. He holds his hand out to shake Dylan’s.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you for the invitation to your home.” Dylan’s nervous. His voice is shaky, and I can tell he must be edgy because he’s meeting my parents. I grab hold of his hand, and give it a small, reassuring squeeze.

  “Drink? Scotch? Beer?” Dad offers.

  “No, thank you. I’m not a drinker by nature. Occasionally is fine, but not usually.”

  Dad gives him a nod, but he doesn’t say anything. “Molly, can you set the table please?” Mom asks.

  “I’ll help,” Dylan offers.

  “Thanks.” I smile. Dylan follows me into the kitchen where I get plates, glasses, and cutlery out. He walks over to the table, and begins to set it up. “Thank you,” I say.

  “Darling, set up in the…” Mom walks in and sees Dylan setting the table. “This’ll do.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Dylan says. I cringe because I know he’d be feeling super awkward at the moment.

  “We’ll eat out here, that’s fine.” Mom walks over to Dylan, and gently taps her hand on his.

  “Mom, Dad, we’re here,” Tina calls from the front.

  My stomach drops, and I feel sick. She hasn’t talked to me in over a week, and I don’t have anything nice to say about Preston. I feel uncomfortable knowing they’re here. But I want Mom and Dad to see him for themselves.

  Mom scurries out of the kitchen, and I gaze over to Dylan. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, troubled by the thought of Preston and my sister together.

  “It’ll be okay,” Dylan quietly says. “We should go out too.” He finishes setting the table, and we head out to the foyer.

  Tina looks different. She’s lost weight. How’s that possible in only a week? Her eyes look sunken, like she hasn’t been sleeping or eating. She doesn’t even look at me. My heart breaks. “Hi Dylan,” she says.

  “Tina, nice to see you again.” Dylan gives her a kiss on the cheek, then holds his hand out for Preston. Preston shakes it. The whole thing is forced on both parts.

  “Tina.” I don’t even wait; I go in for a hug. Tina resists then quickly melts in around me. “I miss you,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry,” she replies in a hushed tone. “Let’s not fight again.” I hug her tighter.

  “Preston, right?” Dad asks from behind me.

  “Pleased to meet you, Thomas,” Preston says.

  This grates on my nerves. Preston’s cockiness annoys the hell out of me. Dad’s brows lift, and he doesn’t extend his hand to shake Preston’s. Preston steps forward, and extends his. Dad takes it a few seconds later. “Drink?” Dad offers.

  “What are you offering?”

  Mom gives me a sideways glance. The hair on my arms stand, just the sound of his voice irritates me.

  “Soda, wine, scotch, whiskey?” Dad suggests.

  “A whiskey would go down nicely, thank you.”

  “One whiskey coming right up. Why don’t you come into the den?”

  Preston follows Dad and they both disappear into the other room. Mom heads into the kitchen, and Dylan nods his head. “I’ll go see if your mom needs help.” He’s leaving Tina and me alone for a moment.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Are you eating? You look like you’ve lost weight.”

  “Yeah, all the time.” The conversation is strained. It’s nothing like how we usually speak.

  “Tina, what’s happening? Talk to me, please,” I beg. “This isn’t like you. You’ve always been full of life, and you look so down.”

  “I’m fine. Honestly. I’m just tired. You know?”

  “You’ve been coming home late every night. You’re up early and gone before I even get a chance to talk to you.” Her smile is lifeless, her eyes are the same. “Is it Preston? Is something happening with you both?”

  “No,” she says, but it’s a rehearsed, strained reply.

  “Whatever it is, I’m here for you, Tina. Don’t shut me out, okay? Please,” I beg.

  “I promise, if there’s anything to tell, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Girls, can you help?” Mom calls.

  Tina and I hold hands while we walk into the kitchen. Dylan’s standing by the oven with oven mitts on. He looks at us, then back to the oven. “Nothing to see here, ladies, nothing to see,” he says.

  Tina and I both laugh. “Dylan was telling me how much he likes to cook,” Mom says.

  “He does. He’s making pizzas tomorrow night, and I’m officially meeting his dad.”

  “Really?” Mom’s voice breaks with a higher pitch. “Meeting your parents?”

  “Just my Dad,” Dylan corrects.

  “Whose dad?” Dad asks as he and Preston come into the kitchen and make their way over to the table. Preston sits, a glass in hand with some amber liquid in the bottom of it.

  “Dylan likes to cook, and he’s making pizzas tomorrow night. Molly’s going to meet Dylan’s father. What’s his name?” Mom asks.

  “Mark. He’s looking forward to getting to know Molly, and to my pizzas.”

  “You cook?” Preston asks condescendingly.

  “Yep, and very well too,” I say before Dylan gets a chance to reply. “He made us a chicken curry last night. So good.” Zhen lifts his head from where he’s sleeping and looks at me. “I said chicken and you decide to look. Thanks, Zhen.” He lowers his head again, not interested.

  “Did you go to culinary school?” Dad asks.

  “It’s a prestige culinary school called YouTube,” Dylan jokes. Dad cracks a smile.

  “Dylan, I think everything’s ready. You can take it out of the oven, and place it on the table,” Mom instructs.

  “Yes, chef!” He obediently does what Mom’s asked of him.

  Once done, he takes off the oven mitts, and sits beside me. Mom and Dad sit in their regular spot at the heads of the table, and Tina and Preston sit opposite us. “What do your parents do, Dylan?” Dad asks.

  “Mom took off when I was young, so I don’t have anything to do with her. And Dad’s retired now, but he used to be an aircraft mechanic.” Dad’s eyes light up. He moves in his seat, positioning himself so he can ask more questions.

  “Why’d your mom take off?” Preston asks getting in before Dad.

  Dylan shakes his head. “She never said, at least to me, and if she told my father, he kept it to himself. I’m sure she had her reasons. Ones I’m not keen on finding out.”

  “Dylan, would you like some roast vegetables?” Mom asks.

  “Thank you.” He scoops some onto my plate, then his own.

  “Why don’t you want to know?” Preston persists. “Do you know where she lives? I’d be hunting her down and demanding she tell me why she abandoned me.”

  Every word he speaks, makes me angrier and angrier. “Why don’t we go out for dinner one night, with Mark?” I say, trying to defuse and distract Preston.

  “Yeah, I’d love to meet a colleague,” Dad says excitedly. “Someone who gets what I’m going through.”

  “What about your parents, Preston? What do they do?” Mom asks.

  Preston sits back in his chair, puffing his chest out proudly. “My parents are both lawyers.”

  “Impressive,” I say.

  “They’re quite important,” Preston replies.

  “I work for a law firm. Where do they work?” Dylan asks.

  “You’re a lawyer?” Preston asks while sitting straighter, suddenly guarded.

  “No, I’m a security analyst for a law firm. Where did you say your parents work?”

  “You probably wouldn’t know them. It’s a small firm.”

  Did he contradict himself? I’m sure he did. “I know a lot of the firms around. I probably even know who your parents are. What are their names?”

  “They don’t practice in the area,” Preston replies cryptically.

  “Yeah, I’ve met them. They’re really nice. They live on the other side of town, about fifteen minutes
from here. You should see their house, it’s so big,” Tina says.

  I catch the unyielding hard stare Preston’s giving Dylan. Why did Preston avoid the question?

  “You live at home?” I ask.

  “For now,” Preston replies. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “I’m looking at moving out soon. Hopefully I can convince this one to come with me.”

  Warning.

  Warning.

  Red flag.

  Abandon ship.

  “You’re moving out?” I ask Tina. “I think it’s best if we discuss that first.”

  “Molly, leave it alone,” Mom snaps at me.

  What did I do? Although I want to fight Mom on this, I also know now’s not the time or place to have this discussion.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Tina says, and glances toward Preston.

  “This is beautiful,” Dylan says as he eats his dinner. “I love these vegetables, Mrs. Dawson.”

  “It’s Paris,” she counters. “And thank you.”

  Subtly I look over to Preston. His jaw is locked tight, and his eyes are focused on his plate. His shoulders are back in an upright, rigid posture. I drop my hand, and place it on Dylan’s leg. Dylan looks over to me, while Mom, Dad and Tina talk about some off-beat subject.

  Dylan narrows his eyes slightly, then moves his hand to cover mine.

  Zhen’s wet nose sniffs at my leg. He leans his head on my lap.

  Something’s definitely off. I know it is. I can’t allow Tina to get involved with someone who avoids an easy question about his parents. There’s no reason to lie. Dylan was open and honest about his mom. Tina and I are adopted, and we have no shame in telling people if we need to.

  Preston’s hiding something.

  The rest of dinner goes by with Preston trying to avoid any personal questions, but making it look like he’s not trying to avoid them.

  The whole table is tense, and uncomfortable.

  “How about we clean considering you cooked?” Dylan says to Mom.

  She smiles at him. “A perfect idea! That works for me.”

  “I’ll wash and you wipe?” Dylan offers.