Page 16 of The Men of Summer
Zayn
10 years later
The sound of Jeremy’s foot tapping on the floor is loud enough to be heard over Twist of Fate’s latest album, and the tapping increases as Dante’s old Camaro gets closer to Jessica’s house. From the passenger seat, my gaze flicks to the rearview mirror. We lock eyes. Mine are filled with reassurance. His express nervousness rather than excitement.
I get it. It’s a big step.
His first true love, at least he confessed as much a month ago. The first meet-up between the lovebirds’ parents. The first formal invitation after dating his high-school girlfriend for six months.
A serious discussion about safe sex ensued, which he considered to be the most embarrassing moment of his life, surely because it felt more real than the previous ones… However, unless he’s ready to share things with us, we don’t want to pry.
I can’t relate. My one and only love interest has been Dante, and I’ve never been formally introduced to his parents. Well, strike that. I have, but little did I know they’d become my in-laws—okay, that’s a stretch since we haven’t tied the knot, but still… Back then, I was a reserved seventeen-year-old exchange student. I met them as their son’s friend. That was then, this is now.
I sigh.
“You’ve got this, buddy.” Leaning his forehead on the back of my headrest, he grunts his response. His fingers search for mine, and I catch them with my left hand. Jeremy’s a good kid, but my heart can’t handle his stress. “Remember she said she loves you.”
“And, unlike us, you’ve met her parents already.” Dante’s right. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Jessica’s parents prefer for Jeremy to come over to their place. She’s never set foot in our house, and we barely know her, but she sounds like a nice girl.
“That was before she told them I liked her, Father… Meeting the math tutor is different.” After transferring from Boston, Jessica was the new kid on the block, and the seniors were eager to show her around. According to Mrs. Torpey, she needed help to catch up, and Jeremy was assigned by said teacher.
“Right, but then again, tutoring must have played in your favor as a responsible young man. After you cracked the news, they still welcomed you and invited us tonight. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me I’m freaking out… What if they change their minds because they don’t like the way I hold my silverware or some stupid shit?”
“Language!” Yes, I’m trying to keep my teenager civilized. Sue me!
“I’m sorry. It’s just… never mind. You’re right, I’m pumped… I know Jessica can’t wait to meet you, too.”
“I’ve met her!” I counter.
“Running into her while walking Dixie isn’t actuallymeetingher,Papa.” He air quotes the word for emphasis.
Oh, yes, I forgot to mention we got a dog. Of course, she’s a she… There’s enough testosterone in our house for a lifetime or two. The twenty-pound one-year-old mutt barged into our lives with her telltale energy and protectiveness the morning after our conversation about love. Jeremy made a convincing case of how shelter dogs deserved love and how we should trust him enough to take care of a pet. Dixie arrived home that very afternoon. While we’re about to hit the “meet the parents” milestone with Jeremy, she’s enjoying our sitter’s company because, God forbid we leave her home alone.
“Technicalities…” I point out, joking, although we didn’t dare ask him if Jessica had been informed that his parents were a same-sex couple.
“They just want to make sure I’m good enough to take their daughter to prom before buying a fancy dress.”
“All the more reason not to worry since you are.”
“And you’re not biased in any way, shape, or form, Father.”
“Absolutely not.”
We laugh at Dante’s obvious conclusion, and Jeremy lets go of my fingers.
The late April sun casts long shadows along the tree-lined street and bathes everything in a golden light. My eyes widen at the landscaping with an elegant tree with red leaves as the focal point. The house itself is a classic California home with a modern twist, boasting clean lines and a facade of white stucco complemented by dark wood accents and large windows.
I give Jeremy’s shoulder a soothing squeeze when we all exit the car. “This is it.”
Dante pecks his son’s cheek, straightens his collar, and smiles, his eyes twinkling with the same mix of pride and anxiety I also feel.
The front door opens as soon as we step foot on the porch, revealing a tall couple with a familiar blend of curiosity and warmth. The brunette woman, who I assume is Jessica’s mother and looks to be in her early forties, steps forward first, her smile widening. Her husband follows suit, looking us up and down. He’s shorter than our 6’ 3”—Dante claims we’re the same height, but I’m slightly taller—and stocky with a graying beard. With his strong jaw and perfectly-styled hair, he resembles a Wall Street yuppie. He’s sporting preppy ivory shorts and a navy polo, which match the colors of his wife’s clothes. Still, I’ve learned from experience that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
As for us, we’re definitely overdressed in our button-up shirts and dress slacks, but that’s okay.
For a heartbeat, a look of surprise overtakes them both. His previously warm expression becomes impassible while her face morphs to an expression of utter confusion and her shoulders straighten.
