Nic's Story

Part 4

Chapter 4

"Quit it. You are giving me a headache" Lisa was watching me pace around the room. "You are like a hamster in a cage that gone mad".

I was mad. I was going to Hugo's mom for dinner. I was ready since 11 even though I knew it was at 4.

I had my best shirt on, my best jeans on and my shoes were clean. The time was passing too slowly. If Lisa cared she would have been puzzled by my erratic behaviour. Instead she was having pre-drinks and blaming me for the migraine.

I considered texting Aaron about how crazy I've become, but rejected the idea. Aaron gossiped. I could see Caleb's post the next day 'Guess what...Nic Johnson is a fag!' I did not know if Caleb was homophobic, but I hated him, so I expected the worst of him.

When Hugo invited me to his mom's house, I thought it was huge. It meant I was more than his student, I was his friend. I thought so until I learnt that Sofia was George's supplier of fertilizer. The dinner was arranged for George really. It seemed everyone was in the farm business in this town.

I decided not to get too upset about that and earn my own invitation to the Knight's manor. I succeeded. Sofia was so charmed by me by the end of the evening, I became the adopted youngest sibling of the family. That made my feeling towards Hugo incestuos, but who cares. 

"Mom, let him breathe", Mario, Hugo's step brother, cast a big shadow over me and Sofia. He was tall, mid thirties, with sharp face features and a large chest. He needed all that square footage of lungs to be able to dive to oil rigs. I was scared of him. His wife, Florence, was as scary.

Unlike her children Sofia was a lady with soft round face. Her thick whitesilver hair was set in a perfect tower and she wore a trendy bright dress. A massive necklace of semi-precious stones was 'making a statement' as she explained to me. She was nothing like Hugo, who preferred leather, ascetic cuts and black color, and nothing like Mario, who wore adidas leggings and long sporty t-shirts. I wondered how this eclectic gathering of people were one family.

I guess they were thinking the same about us. There was George,  a solid businessman, strong, healthy, a local cowboy and a well respected member of the community. Next to him stood a skinny Mediterranean looking woman with bleached yellow hair, always with a glass in her hand and a cigarette, showing too much skin, and me, a moody teenager, awkward but ambitious, or so I wanted to think.

"He is so cute, isn't he?" murmured Sofia looking me over. "I think you should grow your hair. You will look adorable with long curls." She touched my short cut.

Hugo was standing near a fireplace, watching us. He was wearing a black textured shirt and tailored skinny trousers that I could barely keep my eyes off.

"I will look ridiculous", I protested.

"You will look like David!" Sofia insisted "Do you know David?

"The postman?"

She laughed.

"No! Michelangelo's David."

She was pronouncing Michelangelo incorrectly.

"I don't think I can pull off David".

"Sure you can. Besides girls like curls!"

I don't think Sofia had hard statistical evidence but that was her argument.

"I think you would look really good with longer hair", Hugo joined our conversation.

"You really think so"

"Yes"

That was all the convincing I needed. If one day Hugo decided, for some reason, a golden suit would make my eyes pop, I would wear it.