Unsuspecting Blessing.

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Brian's Father, Gabriel Skinner, does not live close to town. He lives a few miles outside of it, but he works in town near the downtown area. Still, however, a few miles more than making it an able place to go on foot, so Brian asked his Mother if he could borrow her car for the time being.

"Yes, but I will need it back at work before my shift is over. I have to make it home somehow, and I would like for it to come back in one piece please." Is what she said to the request. Brian let Julia wait at the college, while he literally ran to his house a mile and a half away and snagged the car; his Mom walked to work in the morning saying: "The weather is nice, so you're lucky." Twenty minutes after he left the college, he arrived back and Julia hopped the car after putting her crutches in the back seat.

On the radio "As Tears Go By," by the Rolling Stones played in the background, Brian started up some nerve-wracking conversation that took Julia from left field.

"You're going to have to meet my Mom too, you know."

She visibly shuddered in her seat as her neck craned to face him.

"You are riding in her car after all, and we have to pick her up from work."

"I thought you were dropping the car off to her?"

"I can," he said, "I just thought that it would be better this way. To get the anxiety out of the air and make her certain of you and my taking care of you."

"Yeah," she said distantly, "I guess that makes sense."

"You're going to meet both my parents in one day," he paused, "I guess that's how it usually goes though, huh? And funny enough, the parent I don't talk to is the one that you have to make the best impression on." He seemed to find genuine amusement in his statement, but also a chilling bitterness towards his Father rose in his throat.

"Brian," Julia said, sounding timid and looking even more so, "this is not making me feel more confident."

"Sorry," he remarked, himself now feeling as she looked.

The humming of the tires on the road reminded him that his Mom needed to schedule an appointment to remove her snow tires, because the studs came in pulsing, blasting vibrations with each acceleration or brake. The sound filled the car more than the music at most times, but that did not matter because neither of them felt sturdy enough within themselves to sing along.

The radio host went on blabbing about an old rock music marathon and he played "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love," by Van Halen next. The alternating riffs that seemed to be swerving in and out of the car's speakers matched well with the frenzied angst they both felt on the drive. The Sun showed down on top of them and made lurid yellows and oranges on the dashboard; Brian wore sunglasses that wrapped around his face snugly.

And in a few syllables the anti-silence between them was broken.

"What happened between your parents?" Julia asked.

Brian's heart gave an uneasy stab in his chest, like stepping on the brakes abruptly, before he gathered himself enough to answer. Despite the quietude of the music and the loudness of the tires, he turned down the radio with the knob to let some of the other conversation abate.

"He worked for a company," Brian started, "the same company that he practically owns now. The classic fall in love with your secretary trope, except it wasn't his secretary it was his boss; I don't know what she saw in a married man, or why she pursued him after learning the fact; but she eventually got fired for breaking company policy of sleeping with an employee. But she did not reveal which employee, because she messaged him under an alias. Now he is in her position," he said, clearing his throat from that bitter taste to let it really come out of his mouth, "and that is how my Mom can afford the house—technically already afforded it—because he pays her every two weeks. Not child support, we're long past that, but the settlement they agreed on in court reflected the pain he caused her by having a second family with his boss."

Julia gaped at Brian. She stuttered a few words before finally managing: "I'm so sorry."

"And if you're wondering how my Mom didn't notice, well she was as busy as it came when she first started working with the homeless. He had a second family for three years before she came around to realizing and I became old enough to make some connections. I spent a lot of nights home alone."

Julia's face wore her same sympathy as previously stated.

"He is a businessman, and always looking for better opportunities, so I guess the other family showed more promise than ours. His boss at the time had a child of her own, and they now have one together. I do not know their names, and I am not going to bother to learn them," he could feel his tone gaining aggression, "and that disgusting shit-face will not be hearing from me again after we're done with all of this."

"I'm so sorry," she echoed, "I didn't mean—"

"It's not your fault," Brian reassured her, "but I am just as nervous as you. I have not talked to the man for...I don't know how many years. Probably a good four or five if I had to guess. I only used to see him because the courts made me, and I did not want to sacrifice any child support money that my Mom deserved. The only good thing that he did was he basically paid for the house we live in with child support and the settlement agreement."

Julia's face scrunched, as if she had no words to make a reply.

"We're almost there," Brian said, shrugging off his story; or at least trying to.

They arrived at a brown brick building that sat between two other smaller buildings and made it look like an idol to be worshiped. The brown bricks stood out against either side that were poorly painted white; the entire front of the building was glass and you could see right inside. Brian's Father sold lawn care supplies, tools, machines, and vehicles from the looks of the outside, and the blatant sign on top that stated just so. They both got out of the car.