Page 35 of Don't Leave Me

“You can sit in the front,” I whispered to Michael as he put our bags in the back.

He smiled sweetly at me. “Okay,” he whispered back, planting a quick peck on my lips.

I swooned.Is he going to be this sweet to me this whole time?

“Michael, where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” my mom asked as we drove home, looking over at Michael in the passenger seat every three seconds.

“No, ma’am,” he laughed. “I’m from Northern Ireland. I’ve been in the states for about five years now,” he answered.

“Wow, Ireland. How’d you end up here?” she asked curiously.

He gave her the long story about wanting a change, staying with his aunt and uncle and Columbia and all that.

“Impressive! An Ivy Leaguer like Hana,” my mom smiled widely and winked at me through the rear view mirror.

“Yes, Hana is quite impressive,” he said playfully as he glanced back at me.

I felt myself blush.How am I going to keep a straight face around Michael and my family for the holidays?

We finally pulled up to my parent’s house, the house that I grew up in, the house that was my home. And the longer I was away from it, the greater I appreciated it and realized how truly lucky I was to have had such a place to grow up in.

“Here we are,” my mom announced excitedly.

“Wow,” Michael said as he observed the house, my mom getting out quickly.

I sighed as I got out of the SUV, my heart racing, my nerves flying off the wall.Why am I so nervous all of a sudden?

“Relax, Hana,” Michael said, taking my hand and squeezing it a little.

I loved that he already knew how to comfort me and my endless anxiety. I took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand back.

He smiled and closed the car door for me. “How do I look?” he asked playfully, still trying to calm me down.

“You look dashing, sir,” I smiled.

Michael grinned as he grabbed our bags and we made the trek across the gravel to the front door.

“Hana’s home!” my mom called out loudly as we entered the foyer.

I looked around at the familiar and festive surroundings; the spiraled staircase, the dark hardwood floors, the shrine of pictures of me that lined the walls. I always forgot how huge our house was.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” Michael observed out loud.

“Thank you, Michael!” my mom smiled widely. “Dan! Hana’s home!” she called out to my dad again.

We followed my mom into the kitchen that led into the family room; the closer we got, the louder the TV got. We found my dad stretched out on his recliner, dead asleep with the newspaper on his belly.

My mom rolled her eyes at us and I laughed, tugging Michael back into the kitchen. I knew my dad would be embarrassed if he knew he greeted us like that.

“My parents in a nutshell,” I laughed to Michael; his amused smile was plastered on his face.

I heard my mom waking my dad up, their conversation muffled as I shrugged my coat off and laid it over a kitchen stool. My dad finally walked in and smiled at me, my mom soon following, as he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

“Hana bug,” he said with affection.

“Hi dad,” I hugged him back, then turned to Michael again.

“Dad, this is Michael. Michael, my dad…er, Dan,” I introduced them nervously.

---