Leave the Lights On

Chapter 12

At the grocery store you are at a loss so you call Brittany and she comes to the grocery store to help. Summer rides in the basket and she asks for cookies. Brittany looks at you like she doesn't want you to get them for Summer, but then you beg with your eyes. Brittany finally gives in and you and Summer high five.

Finally you check out and follow Brittany and Summer back to their house. You park next to the curb and start unloading groceries into her house. She rushes over to help you and Summer even grabs one.

You all get dinner started. Summer is in charge of the salad. She has all the containers and a large bowl on the table. You are in charge of the chicken and Brittany is making sides. She's really good at it and you take as many mental notes as you can.

"Can I just bribe you to come over and cook for her?" you sigh knowing that you'll never remember any of this when the time comes.

"I will if you want me to," she offers easily.

"I might," you kiss her cheek and move back to the chicken. It looks good. It's the recipe Brittany's mom gave her, which she also swears there is no way you can mess it up.

Brittany looks over at you when you've been staring at the chicken, but apparently not seeing it burning. She gently takes the tongs from your hand and turns the chicken over. Luckily, only one of them is slightly burned. Brittany rubs your back with her free hand. "Are you okay?"

You nod. "I'm fine. It's just my mom."

"What's up?" she asks, the hand on your back, settling on your lower back.

You shrug. You don't want to tell her about your worries that your mom will be unhappy with your choice in a significant other. If Brittany wants to meet your mom you're not going to stop them, but you'll be on edge the whole time.

Brittany just nods and kisses the side of your head. "You can tell me if you want. You don't have to."

"My mom just makes me nervous," you sigh. "She's never been like, overly disapproving. That's my dad's job. But... I can tell when she doesn't approve." You feel like this part time ortho job at the hospital made her happy. You're doing something that she approves of, while living somewhere and having a full time job that your dad disapproves of. You just don't know how to explain that to Brittany without sounding like a paranoid, neurotic mess.

Brittany seems to know that you're struggling to say something so she patiently waits.

You finally spit it out at the risk of having her think you're a nut. She just smiles and hugs you. "I understand."

"You do?" you ask, self-consciously.

She holds you against her and you set your head on her shoulder. "Yes. I understand. My mom once told me that no matter how old I get, I'll still be five and eight and thirteen and sixteen and all those other ages. Sometimes you can be sixteen and it's okay."

"And then sometimes I have to grow up and act my age," you finish her sentence for her.

She laughs and kisses your head. "Yes. Sometimes you have to act your age."

"I can be myself around my mom and be okay," you move out of Brittany's embrace and look up at her.

Brittany grins, "Good." She pauses and hands you the tongs, "You should probably get that chicken off the pan too."

You can now hear it sizzling and quickly move to get the chicken out of the pan.

"Can I stop mixing the salad now?" Summer asks, as you set the chicken on the table.

You peer into the salad bowl and smile when you see she's mixed the salad and vegetables together so much that the tomatoes are little more than seeds and skin now. You nod. "Yes, you can stop. Good job."