I didn’t tell my parents we would be arriving today. Their anger wouldn’t have stopped them from coming to get us from the airport. But I still didn’t tell them. Jonah, the eldest son of the family Ben is staying with, is on his way to pick us up.
Ben nudges me with his hip. “Are you okay?”
“I'm a bit nervous.”
We are still in the waiting area because Jonah is an ass. He should have been here long ago. My parents wouldn’t have kept us waiting. People rush past us to hug family and friends while we watch and wait. Ben lets go of his box to draw me in for a side hug.
“Don’t be, babe.” Ben draws my lip between his teeth and I make a throaty sound. “They will be too happy to see you to even care about that. I promise.”
Not really. “Yeah.”
Ben’s fingers rap on the handle of his box in a staccato that weirdly comforts me. I whisk out my phone to check the messages Maria sent me. There’s a lot. A lot of pictures. The messages following the pictures are in caps lock. She gets crazier everyday and her growing fanbase loves her for her craziness.
I focus on her last message. It reads: You should do something about it.
About what? My head relaxes on Ben’s arm, he gives me a small smile and resumes the finger tapping. It might be my imagination but he seems different. Going back healed him. Getting justice for himself chipped off the weight he never realised he carried like a second part of himself. It cost us a month and my parents will never let me forget that.
But I’m good. We both are. I caught up on classes. I sent in my assignments via emails. Josef talked to the principal. Calum has been helping us forward important notes. It’s not as bad as they think. We only missed three weeks of physical lectures.
I download one of the pictures Maria sent me, then another. They are almost the same thing. A repost of my Instaagram picture by popular profiles. I check on my Instaagram page and—holy fucking mother of God. I have a ton of followers. Tell me, why do I have fifty thousand likes on my picture? Why do I have an influx of forty-nine thousand followers?
It might be hard to believe but I was content with my less than one thousand followers count.
The increase in followers isn’t the only new thing I notice. The pinned comment has generated more likes, same as mine. There are about one hundred replies under my comment but I don’t check them.
This is so fucked up.
Back to my WattsApp, I send Maria a text.
Me: What’s going on?
Maria: You’re popular!!!
Not funny. She highlights one of the pictures she sent. I didn’t download it so I do it now. It’s a repost of my picture from vogue. Vogue USA shared my post on their Instaagram story with my reply to that comment as their caption.
Okay. What is going on?
I feel my cheeks to be sure it’s real. Ben looks up to me but his phone rings before he can say anything. Jonah barrels inside the waiting room with his hair all over his forehead. He bends to catch his breath and I roll my eyes. Ben walks ahead of me, they exchange heated words for minutes and Jonah sighs.
Seconds later, Jonah walks over to me, arms wide open for a hug. “Sorry I kept you guys waiting.”
He kept us waiting for seventeen minutes. Mum would have been waiting for us. Trying to pry my bag from me earns him a scowl and he throws his hands up.
“Tessa, let me carry it.” Jonah drags the box out of my hand and I let him because I don’t want to have an argument with him. “How was the trip?”
“Fine.”
Ben keeps the door open for us, he scowls at Jonah who spares us a contrite smile. We bound outside and into Jonah’s car. None of us help with putting the luggage into the trunk. We hear his exaggerated grunts and groans but sit put in the backseat.
Heads reclined on the seat, we hold hands in the space between us. It feels good to be back here.
“I think I really like New York,” Ben says.
“I love it.”
Ben laughs. It’s so easy to picture us having our family here. Jonah enters into the car and slams the door. Drama king. I stick out my tongue and he flips his middle finger. Jonah turns on the radio, the car eases into a lazy crawl and gradually picks up speed.
The nerves return as the paths grow familiar. In ten minutes, I’ll be home. Ben senses my nervousness, he hoists me on his laps so I’m straddling him. His lips pucker for a kiss and I press my mouth to his. He kisses me hard, then softly. But the kiss doesn’t silence my thoughts and my shoulders sag.
Ben’s arms circle my waist. “Babe, I can come with you. I think you should let me go home with you.”
We already had this conversation. Well, we tried to. “Nope. I need to do this on my own.”
“But you were there for me.”
This is not a ‘help me, so I help you in return’ scheme. It’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do for each other. I curl my fingers under his jaw. “This is different. I don’t think they will be happy to see you. You’re the guy who took their daughter away.”
Ben laughs. It’s the most pleasant sound I have heard today and I heard a lot. Jonah honks to remind us he’s still with us. The other cars on the highway toot their horns and a honking game starts. Jonah is weird.
“Fair enough,” Ben says when the madness quiets. I trace the curve of his brows. I finally got to fixing them into shape before we left. “But I didn’t take her. She came willingly.”
“And I’ll do it again if I had to,” I say against his lips.
“Cut it out, you two,” Jonah interrupts.
“Hater,” Ben says.
“Lover,” he retorts.
Lame comeback. I don’t hate Jonah but I am pissed he kept us waiting. Plus, I’m pretty nervous and he is annoying. Ben doesn’t allow me to get off his lap immediately we reach home. He takes my hand and forces me to breathe along with him. I swallow the thick ball blocking my throat. It can’t be that bad.
Why am I nervous? They are my parents. They are cool people. And I am their baby girl.
“I’ll help you with your bags,” he says and I am too grateful for the offer to think up a reply.
Jonah puts out my stuff by the car, we stand outside for a while staring at the one-storey building that has been my home for a while.
Ben carries my box and I sling the strap bag over my shoulder. He stops at the door but doesn’t leave.
“Benny, what are you doing?”
“You’re nervous,” he says. “I don’t like that you’re nervous. None of these is your fault.”
It isn’t. But I need to talk to my parents alone without the source of their anger hovering around me. “Just go, I’ll be fine. I promise.”
The worst they will do is give me the silent treatment. Mum will do that. Daddy will give me a lecture. I ring the doorbell twice. We hear footsteps from the other side of the door and I give him a look. This is his last chance to leave. But my loving boyfriend stays put beside me, daring to wink at me.
Jonah honks, Ben and I turn in unison to him and wave our middle fingers. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting but he kept us waiting.
The door opens to reveal Mum. She is too stunned to speak and I take advantage of her shock by hugging her. The door opens wider, she steps out to carry my box but falters when she spots Ben. The next few minutes are a bit awkward.
Ben waves shyly, his smile quickly fading at Mum’s blank stare. “Hi, Mrs Mower.” Mum hums a noncommittal reply, she heaves my bag inside and ushers me into the house. Standing in the doorway, she blocks my view of Ben. “I’m sorry for keeping Gracie away for such a long time. It’s not her fault. It’s all mine.”
“Okay,” Mum replies and shuts the door in his face.
“Mum!” I whine. She swishes past me with my bag and a voice from the kitchen stops me.
“Honey, who’s there?” Daddy walks out of the kitchen holding a stained spatula. He goes through the same motion of shock Mum went through but recovers faster. “Tessa?”
I am lifted off the ground in a hug. He pats my cheeks twice as if to confirm I’m the one. Mum stands akimbo on the last stair with my box at her feet.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” he says as he guides me to the living room.
“Wanted it to be a surprise.” His chest falls, I stretch out my arms and say, “Surprise!”
“That’s a horrible surprise,” he replies. He looks behind me to the door. “Where’s Ben?”
“He left.”
I follow Daddy to the kitchen for him to return the spatula. Mum is seated on the single sofa on our return. We occupy the other couch and I cling to Daddy. Her frown deepens as she watches the interaction between father and daughter. Daddy is so chill about this. I wrap my arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry,” I say to both of them but my gaze is directed at Mum. The scowl slips from her lips but she doesn’t smile. “Don’t be mad at Benny, he didn’t do anything wrong.” Dad’s hand slips around my shoulder in silent forgiveness. “Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Daddy peers down at me in question. “I didn’t know how to tell both of you.”
“Tell us what?” she asks. “What kept you there?”
Ben already gave me permission to tell them the truth but I need a few seconds to gather my thoughts. At some point, Mum relocates beside Daddy and I inch backwards till my back touches the armrest.
“Theresa, what are you not telling us?”
“So… when Benny’s mum remarried,” I start. They go through different emotions as I narrate the story to them. Mum claps a hand over her mouth when I mention the things Ben’s stepsister did to him. Daddy can’t hide his shock. They are still staring as I tell them about the trials. And I don’t mention the spat with Theresa. “...I couldn’t leave him behind.”
“Is he okay?” is Mum’s first question.
“Yeah. He had me,” I say with a proud smile. “And she’s going to be in jail for a while.” They also seem to like the sound of that. “Ben is very okay.”
She laughs. “Are you okay?”
“Well, I don’t want you to be mad at me or Benny,” I reply. Daddy gives Mum a look and she shrugs. “I know I said one week but one week turned to four. And I couldn’t tell you then because it wasn’t my story to tell.”
“We’re not mad,” Mum starts. Daddy coughs and she slaps his arm. “Okay, we were mad.” There’s emphasis on ‘were’ and I grin sheepishly. “But we are glad he had you. You’re an adult now and you have to talk to us like adults.” I bow my head in a nod. Her voice goes up a notch. “And the next time you end the call on us while we are still speaking, I don’t care if you are an adult or not, Theresa Grace Mower, you will be grounded till eternity.”
My laughter is the only response she gets before I am squeezed in a family hug. Adult. I like that word. I like that she called me that.