Page 85 of Eye of the Hurricane
“Katherine, baby, you look gorgeous,” I gush, pulling her hand to my mouth and placing a kiss on her knuckles.
“You look great yourself. I’m glad you could make it,” she says, blush spreading across her cheeks. She turns her attention to her mother. “This is Ares, my boyfriend.” I like the way that phrase sounds coming through her accent too much.
“Ares, this is my mom, Beverly. My dad, Daniel. And my brother, Noah,” she continues. I reach out, shaking each of their hands. The cold and almost clinical look on her mom’s face is unsettling. Her father looks like some kind of government official. Her brother looks to be relatively normal, though.
The waitress brings us back to our table. I wonder on the walk there if her mother thinks it should be a man serving us instead. Or if her hatred for women with careers is reserved for Katherine. I also consider that she may see it’s fitting for a woman to be paid to serve others. The thought makes my stomach turn.
“So… Ares, is it?” her mom asks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell us about yourself. Where are you from? Who areyour parents?” she asks. The way she asks makes me feel like she expects my parents to be some household name. I shift slightly in my seat before speaking.
“I’ve lived here in Doves Harbor my whole life, born and raised. My mother is Allison Dawkins and my father is Ken Dawkins—Kenneth.”
“What I mean to ask is, what do they do for a living?” she asks. Normally this isn’t an uncomfortable question at all. My parents are well off. However, I get the feeling that won’t cut it with her.
“My father is a lawyer and my mother is an interior designer,” I tell her. She scoffs and I swear I can feel my blood pressure rise.
“A lawyer is great. I see it’s become common around here for women to have careers,” she remarks. It’s a shot at both my mother and Katherine. I catch her stiffen out of the corner of my eye.
“She had a passion, my father loved her enough to let her chase it,” I tell her.
“Would it not be a greater act of love to allow her to enjoy her home and raise her children?” Her nose is turned up at me. I tell myself a hundred times in my head that nothing I say will change her mind and not to engage. It’s impossible though when I can see Katherine’s confidence falling from her by the moment.
“I think the greatest act of love is to let someone be all that they are and love them in entirety. I don’t think you put someone you love in a cage.” She doesn’t entertain the idea with a response. She hums an annoyed sound low in her throat.
“What do you do for a living?” Her dad chimes in to ask.
“What’s with the third degree? Why don’t we just enjoydinner?” Katherine snaps. Her leg is bouncing a mile a minute and she’s shifting in her seat every few minutes.
“It’s okay, baby. They just want to get to know me,” I say flashing a megawatt smile.
“I’m finishing up my senior year of college currently. I’m a fine arts student. My focus is on painting and photography?—”
Her mom cuts in before I get a chance to finish. “Isn’t that more of a hobby?”
“For some, sure. Selling my art is how I make most of my money. Although I’m a bit limited in that until I graduate in the spring. I’ll apply to institutes and I’ll sell some of my art myself,” I tell her. Somehow Katherine finds a way to bounce her leg even faster. I slip a hand over her knee, steadying her leg. She melts into the touch.
“Will you be able to provide for our daughter with that as your source of income? What if she doesn’t want to work, will you be able to allow her to stay home with your children?” I wonder if she doesn’t know Katherine at all or if she just doesn’t care about what she wants.
“I’m confident whatever Katherine wants to do, we’ll make work,” I assure her. Because the answer is yes, I could make enough for her to stay at home. But the reality is that she’s not my real girlfriend and even if she were, she would never give up her career.
“Very well, then.” Katherine reaches for my hand that’s sitting on her knee and interlocks our fingers. It’s under the table, no one can see. This isn’t for them, this is for her. I rub small circles on her hand with my thumb and she looks more at ease.
“You should spend the night at the house tonight and justhead to the wedding with us tomorrow,” Katherine says. Her mother’s eyes look like they might bug out of her head.
“Katherine, surely you’re not suggesting you two spend the night together before you’ve got a ring on your finger.”
“No,” she rushes out, clearing her throat. “Of course not. I would blow an air mattress up for him in the office,” she assures her.
“I suppose that would be fine.”
Her family is such a stark difference from mine. When I was sixteen my mom bought me condoms. She’s not allowed to cuddle out of wedlock. When I decided art was the path I wanted, my mom was my biggest cheerleader. Her mother is the loudest voice telling her that her dream is out of reach.
“If you want me there I’ll be there,” I assure her. She squeezes my hand tighter.
Once our food is brought out to us talking is minimized. There is small talk here and there but for the most part, everyone just enjoys their meals. Once we’re done eating we don’t linger too long.
