October.
"I just - I just can't believe you're back," My mother cried after my father had set me down, pulling me into her arms once more and stroked my hair. "My October...it's all so sudden. Dear," she let go of me and hung onto the arm of my dad, then laughed, "I feel like this is all some dream."
"I can't believe it either," I breathed, feeling like I was going to pass out when Michael stepped next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards him in reassurance. "I've got - uh, a lot of explaining to do."
"And who's this?" My father nodded towards Michael glaring at him, and Michael only beamed back.
"I'm Michael, sir, Michael Clifford. I'm Tobe's best friend. After a formal invitation to the lovely state-"
"City." I corrected him, trying my best not to burst out into laughter.
"- I had done my research on the city of Vancouver, and realized that there are no igloos and people do not have 'oot' as a language, so I just had to scrutinize the scenery." He let go of me and extended his arm out towards my father, who shook it firmly, eyeing Michael with an arched eyebrow, then took his position back to my right, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "I searched that word up in the cab. Impressive, isn't it? Anyways-" I inhaled deeply as I realized he still wasn't done with his cute little introduction, pinching my lips together.
"And, just to put it out there, since I know you're all wondering," I resisted the urge to slap the back of Michael's head, knowing that my parents weren't big friends of strong attitude. They were all for etiquette. "No, I am not her boyfriend. She-ah," he turned to me and grinned smugly, "She has one, back in New York, though-"
"Okay, that's enough." I grimaced, and quickly regained my composure, smiling uncomfortably.
It was now my mother's turn to glare at me, and I squirmed in my position. Damn you, Clifford.
"You're right, you do have a lot of explaining to do," she stated, and I groaned inwardly, hiding behind Michael and motioning him towards the kitchen, pushing and poking his sides in the process. "Asshole," I muttered into his ear, and he didn't even try to hide his loud, annoying laugh of his.
~~~
It was like in those movies, where the boy would come over to the girl's place to have dinner with her parents, and the long, awkward silence surrounded the atmosphere, filled with fake smiles and looks of solemn, grim glares as no one dared to take the first bite of their food.
So I, being the master of awkwardness in the room, decided to break the ice. "How's the weather?"
Like I said, the master of awkwardness.
My mother laughed, taking a spoonful of cinnamon apple pie from her plate and gently placing it in her mouth. "October, we haven't seen you in three years. After your little...disclosure on you future plans back then, your father and I want to know how you are doing."
If I were being honest (and maybe a little selfish), I felt like they should've been more ecstatic at my arrival. I guess I expected too much. I wasn't anyone important. Not to an Oxford graduate and an architect.
Not to my parents.
I did feel selfish.
"Well," I cleared my throat, swallowing down the sweet dessert. "After I moved to New York, I met Michael during my stay - that was two years ago. So now, I work at Starbucks, and I have my own apartment, too. And uh-" I turned to Michael, gulping nervously, before returning my gaze to my parents. "I did meet someone."
