We Live Forever

Chapter 17: Meet The Parents

Hank's POV:

It took hours, but eventually, the doctors agreed to discharge me from the hospital. However, I wasn't free just yet. Instead, I'm stuck with my two least favorite people. 

Mom and Dad. 

"Henry, I think we have a few things to discuss."

Top ten phrases I really didn't want to hear.

"You'll be joining us tonight at the house for Christmas dinner."

Why does that sound more like an order than an offer?

Because it is.

"I'm sure you're eager to see the place. It's been a while since you've been home."

Yep. A while. Definitely not a few hours. 

"Well, I didn't exactly have any other plans"

I confessed to them, hoping they would think my wife was far away and not in their house.

"We assumed so"

Ouch.

Crimson's POV:

When I agreed with Hank's plan to go back to the house I think I must have forgotten that I do not have a car.

It's gonna be a very long walk.

At least I'll probably still get there first seeing as my husband is currently chained to a bed in a not-fun way. 

Hank's POV:

We made it back to the house and I crossed my fingers hoping Crimson was hidden somewhere inside -- not napping on the couch. 

Luckily my parents don't care enough to notice my glances around the room as we walk inside. I'm caught off guard by the absolutely delightful smell coming from the kitchen. Please don't be my wife. Please don't be my wife. Please don't be my wife. 

I turn the corner and it's not my wife. 

"When he heard you'd be discharged today we made a few calls and had this Christmas feast made just for us."

"There's an extra place setting in case your wife wants to join us"

That would've been a nice sentiment, but the venom on my mother's tongue when she said "wife" told another story entirely. 

"I don't think she'll be able to join us tonight."

"Oh, how unfortunate"

You know what else is unfortunate double homi-

Nope. That's a little too far. 

I try my best to let their words not affect me as I sit down at the dining table. The tension in the room is as thick as those delicious-looking mashed potatoes. 

"So, Henry where exactly have you been for the past, well Twenty years?"

As I start to form an elaborate lie in my head a loud knock comes our front door. 

Crimson's POV:

The door's locked, which is unusual considering neither of us has keys. Maybe Hank beat me here and just locked the door out of habit?

Only one way to find out. I reached forward and knock on the large door. The door soon swings open to reveal Dr. McCoy, but not my Dr. McCoy. His father, my father-in-law. 

He has the same towering height as Hank, but his build is much larger. Despite his entirely white hair and thick-rimmed glasses, he is a rather imposing man. I instantly feel uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. 

"I'm going to operate under the assumption that you are the wife."

"Yes sir," I muster.

I follow the man inside the house and pretend as though I'm seeing it for the first time. I make sure to look at and admire all the artwork and artitecture. 

"You have a very beautiful home"

"Thank you, but really it's all my darling wife"

I don't like how perfect that answer was. This feels almost rehearsed. Not giving a speech rehearsed, but serial killers practicing their lure to get victims. 

We arrive at the dining table and I make eye contact with my husband. He sets his wine glass down on a table a little too hard and his mother's attention instantly is on me. 

"So this is the woman who has captured the attention of my little Henry. I have to say I'm a bit disappointed."

Bitch

She definitely didn't have to say that, she just wanted to.

I decide against saying something and quietly take my seat next to Hank. He reaches over and holds my hand. I can feel a tremor in his hands. 

He's feeling the same way I am. 

It's just one dinner.

We can do this.

Hank's POV:

I can't do this. 

This was never supposed to happen. 

My parents, my past, this was all supposed to stay buried. 

Crimson isn't supposed to be in this place. Crimson isn't supposed to be with them. Crimson isn't supposed to be...

...

with me.

Author's Note:

Oops, angst.

I am officially the president of the Edna and Norton McCoy hate club. 

Anyways... thoughts? Feelings? Emotions? Predictions?