The Red Thread (27 page)

Or what if I’m just crazy and overreacting as usual?

Yep, that sounds about right.

I SIT
in the living room as Mom cooks in the kitchen. She has something nice planned for tonight; for this is the night my family finally meets my boyfriend. My leg shakes as it continues to tap against the carpeted floor, and Clara sits beside me.

“Don’t be nervous. I promise to not embarrass you… too much,” she jests.

“Thanks a lot.”

I look out the window. Still no Adam. I fidget with my fingers in my lap and check my breath. I’ve brushed my teeth three times in the last hour and a half. I clean my glasses on the bottom of my button-up shirt, and then I play around with my cardigan. What about my hair? It’s a mess. I mean it’s always a mess, but I wish I could get it to do something tonight.

I hear the sound of a car door, and I jump and I’m out the door. Adam walks up to the porch, and he bends down to kiss me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist.

“Hello,” he says as he breaks away from my lips.

“Hello yourself,” I whisper, only an inch from his face.

We step apart, and I see that Adam is holding a bottle of red wine.

“I hope th-they, um, like r-r-r-r-red wine. My uncle gave me th-this to b-b-bring over.”

“You did good,” I reassure him.

I take him in with his bright yellow bow tie and matching sweater. I used to always think bow ties were for children and nerds, but he makes a bow tie sexy. That’s the pro of being one of the beautiful people. You can make anything work. He could show up in overalls and still look breathtaking.

I open the front door, and he follows me into the house. My entire family seems to be gathered around the door. Adam fidgets with his bow tie, and I see a tiny spark of nervousness on his face. I grab his hand, and I slightly squeeze it, and it seems to lessen the tension because a tiny smile appears upon his perfect lips.

“Hello, Adam,” my mom greets him, walking out of the kitchen with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face.

“N-n-nice to, to s-s-s-s-see you again, M-Mrs. Hol-Holbrooke.” He holds out his hand, but my mom pulls him into a hug, and I can see the surprise on Adam’s face. My mom has always been one for hugs. She loves them. My mom seems to find something very intimate and innocent about hugs. I guess I shouldn’t tell her I think about hugging Adam naked. That’s not so innocent, is it?

She pulls away, and Adam hands her the wine. “Thank you so much, Adam. This is lovely. And please call me Christine.”

Clara is next in line of introductions. She doesn’t take Adam by surprise with her hug, for she is much more gentle.

“Hello, I’m Clara, his older and wiser sister,” she says with a smile and a shake of his hand.

“N-nice to, to m-meet you a-as well.”

When Adam flashes his dazzling smile, I’m pretty sure Clara is close to melting to the floor. His smile has a tendency to do that. I’ve known him for a short while now, and it
still
gets me every time.

Mom turns to me and says, “Your father called before, and he should be home from work soon. He had to work a bit late.”

I nod. “Okay. When should dinner be ready?”

“Fifteen minutes?”

“Great. I’m going to show Adam my bedroom real quick.”

“Be good,” my sister calls as I pull Adam along behind me up the staircase. I’m glad he can’t see me because my cheeks are bright red.

I take a deep breath before opening my bedroom door. I don’t know why I am so nervous about showing him my bedroom because I’ve spent the entire day cleaning to make sure it looks good. It’s pretty neat, I guess.

“I l-l-like your, um, p-posters.”

“Thank you,” I say dragging out the “you.” Sometimes when I’m anxious, or just being awkward, I have a habit of drawing out words and adding further syllables.

I fiddle with my cardigan as I watch Adam peer at my DVDs and the
many
books lying everywhere in piles around my room. Adam doesn’t say anything, and now I’m wishing I had put my books somewhere else. It makes my room look like a mess. Geez, Jess. I look around the room noticing all the spots of dust I missed and that my closet door isn’t completely shut, where you can see the mess of clothes I threw onto the floor in there. I did a shit job cleaning, that is for sure.

“You have good t-taste in ho-horror f-f-films.”

“Thank you.”

Adam turns around and walks up to me. He stands so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. He puts his hands in mine and looks down into my eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hello,” I say softly.

His hands travel up my arms, sending a chill throughout my body, and he clutches at my shirt collar and pulls me into a kiss. His lips seem to grasp for mine and teeth crash. I wrap my arms around his lower back, as his hands make their way to the back of my head. He pulls away from the kiss and breathes into the corner of my neck. He pulls me close to the curve of his body like two puzzle pieces coming together. As clichéd as that sounds, it’s true. Adam is the puzzle piece I’ve been looking for all along.

“I’ve b-b-been w-wanting to, um, do tha-that all day.” He speaks just above a whisper.

I hold on to his waist as tight as I can because otherwise I might actually swoon all the way down to the floor. That would be pretty embarrassing. I look up into his gray-blue eyes, and I pull his lips down toward mine. I’ve already started to miss them. His lips taste like strawberries. Did he put on lip balm before? He should put this on more often because his lips taste delicious. Well, more delicious than usual.

“Dinner.”

Adam and I break apart, panting for air and laughing.

“Nothing like your mom’s voice to ruin the moment, eh?” I say.

He gives me a small kiss on the lips. “You’re s-s-s-so adorable. Now let, let’s eat. I’m s-s-s-s-s-starving.”

“Okay,” I say in between chuckles.

I take his hand in mine, his fingers tangling with mine so superbly. Our hands were made to hold each other.

In the kitchen, Mom has set Adam’s place right next to mine as Clara sits on the other side of the table. Mom left Adam’s bottle of red wine. She really went all out to make it look like we’re one classy family, because you know that’s exactly what people think when they see us. Classy.

Adam pulls out my chair and why must he always be ever so charming. It makes me look bad. Clara smirks at me, and I mouth for her to shut up. My mom brings over salads to everyone.

“Caesar. I hope you like, Adam.”

“Oh, I l-l-l-love it.”

“Enjoy,” she states, sitting down next to Clara.

My mom doesn’t know how to cook too many dishes, but the few she knows how to cook are fantastic. We’re more of a takeout family, usually. Again, we’re pure class.

Adam takes a bite. “Th-this is d-d-delicious, M-M-Mrs. Holbrooke.”

“It’s Christine, and thank you, sweetheart.”

“Y-you’re welcome, C-Christine.”

My mom has a way of putting others at ease. Adam looks over and reassuringly smiles at me, like he is proud of himself. Of what? I’m not totally sure.

The front door opens and slams shut, and my father walks in. He stops at the sight of Adam and looks confused. Mom and I have told him three times Adam was coming over for dinner this week.

“Hi?”

Adam gets up and stands straight, towering over my father. He puts out his hand. “It’s n-n-nice to, to officially meet you, Mr. Holbrooke.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

Mom gets up and brings over another salad and sets it at the end of the table, where my father sits down.

“Thanks, Christine.”

“How was your day, Dad?” Clara asks between bites.

“The boss was up my ass all day today,” he grumbles.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say.

“So Adam, how old are you?” Dad asks, turning his strong gaze onto Adam. I think I see Adam visibly gulp. I grab his hand underneath the table and try to tell him it’ll be okay. Too bad he can’t read my mind.

“T-twenty-t-t-two.”

“I see. My son is nineteen.”

“Dad,” I complain. “He knows my age.”

“Jess, I’m just stating, because he’s a bit older than you. So are you in school, Adam?”

“I g-g-graduated in May, b-b-but I-I’m applying t-t-to grad s-s-s-s-school.”

“What are you studying?”

How do you make him stop? Is there an off switch or an instruction manual? Something.

“I w-w-want to s-s-study education and be-be a t-t-teacher.”

“Any specific subject?”

“Music.”

“Do you like children?”

I look over at Clara and try to mouth for help. Clara shrugs and mouths what to do back. Anything.

“I l-l-l-love them.”

“That’s good.”

“So, Dad, what was your boss doing today?” Clara speaks up.

Thank you
, I mouth to her. She smiles, and Dad goes on to tell a long and angry story about his boss and how much he sucks. Adam speaks up and says something cool and encouraging, which I know makes my father like him—I can tell by the way my father looks at him. When he doesn’t like someone, he tends to squint, as if he’s judging you like a popular girl in middle school. Rather, he looks at Adam with interest. Like Mom, he never even looks at Adam’s stutter as being unusual.

Mom brings on dinner, which is spaghetti with pesto sauce. It has bits of grilled chicken, tomatoes, spinach, and broccoli. Seriously, it looks amazing, and when I take a bite from it, it tastes even more amazing. I think Mom may have found my new favorite dish.

Conversation goes along smoothly, and it just feels so right. Everything feels as if it belongs this way. Adam and I together and sitting at dinner with my family. I don’t even remember why I was so nervous. I look around at everyone’s smiles and their laughter. I look over at Adam, who has that big geeky smile, and I could spend a lifetime looking at him and being with him.

AFTER DINNER,
Adam and I go back up to my room, and we kick off our shoes, and we just lie in my bed. We don’t do anything. We just lie there. Most couples are so quick to jump right to the sex, but this is perfection right here. My head rests on his chest, and I count each one of his breaths, so happy that he exists and beyond content that he is in my life. My eyes are closed, and there is nowhere I’d rather be than here in his arms.

“Wh-what are you, you dreaming of?” Adam asks, pulling me out of my muted state.

I turn my head and look up into his beautiful eyes. They remind me of an angry ocean during a storm. This is one ocean I’d love to drown in, and I’m not just saying that because I am suicidal.

“Nowhere, Adam. I am dreaming of nowhere. I don’t need to dream of anywhere anymore, because I am exactly where I need to be.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead.

“M-me too,” he breathes into my hair as I nuzzle up closer than before.

My phone vibrates, pulling me away from Adam. I look over at my phone sitting there on my nightstand. Adam pulls me back down toward him.

“J-j-just ignore it.”

I nod and rest my head back on his chest. I am quite comfortable on Adam. But then my phone vibrates again, and I sit up grabbing it to see a text from Tommy. He would choose now as the moment to text me. My smile disappears, and I’m pulled back to earth like a weight falling to the ground. Everything crashes around me, and I’m forced to deal with my reality once again.

“Is-is everything o-okay?”

I shrug. “It’s my friend. He needs my help.”

I get up and put on my shoes and button up my coat. Adam grabs my wrist and stops me. I look down into his eyes, enjoying the fact that I’m taller than him for a change.

“Hey, s-s-s-stop. Let me, me help.”

“How?” I ask. He can’t always be my knight in shining armor.

“Just let me c-c-come with you.”

“I’m not going to a good place, Adam.”

I really don’t think I should bring him to a drug addict’s house for a date. If I thought telling him I was in a mental asylum on a first date was bad etiquette, I’m pretty sure taking him to a drug den is taking bad date to the max.

“Even
more
r-r-r-reason for me, me t-to go wi-with you.”

He looks at me with pleading eyes, his fingers still gripped around my wrist, and I feel my head nod. He grabs his jacket and shoes and says he’ll drive, since he knows how much I hate to be behind the wheel.

“You know how to win a boy’s heart.”

“That’s my g-g-goal.”

“You’re succeeding.”

We leave the house, telling my parents we’re going out, but we don’t mention where we are going, and then we are in Adam’s car. I tell him the address, and we try to find our way there. This guy is at the edge of town, the opposite direction of Adam’s uncle’s. We drive up to a small, crappy house that looks like no one has lived there in years, but when I knock on the front door, I hear footsteps inside. There is a lot of shouting, and I look over at Adam.

“Maybe you should take off the bow tie, just in case.”

He looks at me confused, tilting his head with wide eyes. He looks like a child right now, but then my eyes glance at the bow tie. What if Markus shoots us for looking too gay?

“Take it off,” I say again.

He listens and stuffs the bow tie in his pocket, just as the door opens. Tommy is there, with the reddest eyes I have ever seen. Either he has been crying all day, or he is high off his ass. My guess is the latter.

“Jess,” he says dragging out each and every syllable. “You’re here.”

He steps aside and lets us in as he eyes Adam.

“Who is this?”

“Um,” I start. Smooth, Jess, real smooth.

Adam takes my hand. “I-I’m his b-b-boyfriend.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Tommy, Jess’s delinquent and fuckup of a friend. Do you guys want anything? We have tons of alcohol, and Markus just brought out his bong.”

“You’re not a fuckup” is all I can muster. I just don’t like being here.

“I d-don’t d-d-drink,” Adam responds.

“Lame,” he shouts at our faces.

He leads us through the hallways and into a den full of garbage, clothes, and alcohol bottles strewn about everywhere. Markus sits on the couch with three other guys I don’t know. Each one looks blazed out of their minds. Markus holds a bong in his hands.