Cal Jackson's new life as a rockstar fails to account for one thing: the existence of the girl he loves.
*****
"What are you thinking about?" she asks.
"A song," I say. "A new song."
I stare at the ocean as I sing the song that I wrote, something th...
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Dad greets us at the door, looking skeptical when his eyes land on Cal.
"I'm home." I grin sheepishly, trying to calm my nerves.
Godammit, I've never thought that bringing a guy home could scare me this much. I've imagined this scene a few times before but definitely didn't expect the unhealthy anxiety level to slowly kill my insides.
"Is this Cal?" Dad asks, and Cal is the first one to initiate the handshake.
"Good evening, Mr. Davis," Cal says politely. There's no hesitation from him as they shake hands -- his hold on Dad's hand is firm. "Thank you for inviting me over for dinner."
Dad doesn't say anything back. He's still scanning the young man in front of him, and that's when Mom comes into the rescue.
"There you are," she exclaims as she spots me. Whatever it is she's feeling when she sees Cal, she doesn't let it show, because she acts like I just brought another friend into the house.
"Mrs. Davis," Cal addresses her when they shake hands.
Relief washes over me when Mom plasters a warm smile on her face.
"Come in, Cal." She gestures for us to step inside, and Dad closes the door behind us.
Mom leads us to the living room, where the TV is airing some hockey game.
"Please wait for a little while. The dinner is almost ready." With that said, she heads toward the kitchen, but not before calling me to follow her. "Mia, would you help me, please?"
I nod even though my heart is restless. I'm leaving Cal alone with Dad. I glance back at them, only to find that Cal has started a conversation with Dad, talking about the game on TV. Dad just nods curtly, his eyes glued to the TV.
I swallow. My legs feel heavy when I follow Mom to the kitchen. I hope that they're doing good over there and are warming up to each other.
My stomach growls as I find the dish Mom has prepared for us. It's butter and herb roast turkey.
"That looks tasty." I lick my lips, helping her place the potato gratin into one of the plates.
Mom only plasters a small smile in response, and I can't help but wonder why she doesn't ask me about Cal. She doesn't even comment about her first impression of him, or his appearance. That doesn't sound like Mom.
I prefer her to tell me how he looks even if it means commenting about how dangerous he is, because when she says nothing like this, it scares me even more.
Perhaps, Dad has told her everything he knows. About how I met Cal. That we were strangers. That he's a member of an indie rock band.
I sigh, trying my best not to worry too much about it.
