Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 47

Brian groaned as a loud knocking lured him out of the sleep he drank himself into, the light shining through the window providing him with an instant headache. He grabbed at the covers that had collected on the unoccupied side of the mattress—a few empty bottles rolling off onto the wooden floors—and buried himself underneath them. The professor sighed in relief when the pounding stopped, closing his eyes and attempting to slip back into the slumber that would make the day go by quicker. However, it wasn't long before the banging started back up—harder and faster this time around.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted into his pillow, tugging at the blankets around him.

"Brian, it's your parents!" his father's voice boomed, the walls doing little to absorb the ferocity of his tone. The professor's eyes popped wide open. "Let us in!"

Brian ripped the covers off himself and scrambled out of bed, searching the room for something acceptable to toss on to greet his impatient parents. When his father began to beat on the door once more—the sound intensifying the pain in his head—the professor snatched a robe that Chrissie had left behind in the closet and shoved his arms through the sleeves as he descended the staircase, nearly tripping when he reached the bottom. He latched onto the doorknob and pulled the door in, feigning a grin as best he could.

"'Morning," he greeted, immediately noticing the formal wear both his mother and father were adorned in and the shocked expressions that crossed their faces. Harold and Ruth had never seen their son so unkempt before, with his hair a complete mess, his cheeks, chin, and upper lip hidden by a thin yet visible layer of stubble, and the stench of alcohol lingering on his breath and clothes that hadn't been changed since he came home from the university on Friday—two days ago.

"Come on in," the professor implored, stepping to the side and gesturing towards the back of his lonely home. "Sorry it took me so long to answer, I—"

"Why aren't you dressed?" Harold demanded to know, cutting his son's apology and explanation short.

A blush rose in Brian's cheeks—his mind spinning as he tried desperately to find an answer that would appease his father. It wasn't like he could tell him the truth, that he'd spent his entire weekend cooped up in his house, drinking and sleeping the days away. He hadn't even told them about Chrissie yet, too embarrassed and humiliated to confide in his parents about what happened. With all that considered, the professor settled on, "Oh, I, erm...I had a late night. 'Didn't get to sleep until two, three in the morning. Grading midterms." He hadn't even taken the tests home.

"You poor thing," Ruth chimed in, much more understanding and forgiving than her husband who grimaced at the boy's response.

"You do realize what today is, right?" Harold questioned, maintaining a narrowed stare with the professor—his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched.

Brian scratched the back of his head, guessing by his parents' attire, "Sunday?"

"Not just any Sunday, Brian. It's your daughter's christening today."

He chuckled, thinking that his father was just messing with him; that perhaps this was a dream—or nightmare—and he was still in bed, sound asleep. However, this was very much real, as Brian determined by the unwavering gazes locked on him, waiting for him to reply. His reddened cheeks burned warmer as he muttered, "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," Harold disagreed sternly.

Brian's eyes flickered over to his mother, hoping she would provide him with some sign that this was all just some game her husband was playing to get on his nerves. All Ruth could do, though, was nod her head in accord. "But...but Chrissie and I only talked about it once or twice," the professor argued calmly, returning his attention to his displeased father. "We...we never...made it official or anything. She would've told me if we did."

"Well, maybe if you weren't having so many late nights, you would've remembered her telling you," Harold chastised him, indirectly addressing the elephant in the room. Brian tilted his head down in avoidance of his father's glare, feeling even more defeated than he already felt. He didn't think he could sink any lower, but this unexpected visit proved he could.

"We've all been waiting at the church for you for the past half hour," his mother disclosed, adjusting her grip on the handbag that coordinated with her outfit. "We tried ringing you, but for some reason, none of the calls would go through."

The professor took a quick glance back into his kitchen, where lying on the table was his telephone—ripped from the wall a few nights ago in a fit of rage, the silence killing him. He'd driven himself mad waiting for Chrissie to call, and he even started believing that if it wasn't Chrissie, it'd be Roger, but when no calls were received after an entire night of waiting, the professor stood up from the chair, rushed across the room, and yanked the device off the wall. He had yet to put it back.

Brian frowned at the unpleasant memory before meeting his parents' concerned gazes once more and announcing, "I-I guess I'll go get ready then. I'm really sorry for the hold up."

"You should be," his father sneered, turning a cold shoulder to the professor and retreating to his car parked out in the street. Brian clenched his jaw and fists, resentful of the way his father looked down on him, not because he'd always shown disdain for the choices he made, but because this time, even Brian was ashamed of the man he'd let himself become. He'd been living a lie, and now that Chrissie had found him out, it was only a matter of time before everyone else did too. What did she tell them when she showed up at the church without him? Did she tell them about their fight? About her leaving and taking Liz? Did she tell them what it was about?

Before the spiraling thoughts could pull Brian under, his mother placed a soothing hand on his upper arm and flashed him a small, reassuring grin. "I'm just glad you're okay," she murmured, giving him a slight squeeze before trailing after her husband who'd already situated himself in the running vehicle. The professor heaved a sigh and sunk back into his house, slamming the door behind him.