Chapter 22
“
S o who gave you the flowers?”
I froze, my mouth mid-chew and my fork still stuck in my dinner. For the first few minutes of our meal, the three of us had been eating in silence, which I was perfectly content with.
My mother’s sudden question had shattered any hope of a peaceful dinner.
“Uh…I told you, one of my friends.” I quickly shoved another bite of food in my mouth, trying to keep my tone as level as possible and not reveal any deception.
“Which one? Was it one of the friends I met at the game shop?”
“Y-Yes.”
I peered down at my Styrofoam takeout container, praying that my mother would get the hint and stop prying. But I knew that was wishful thinking. Since I rarely saw my parents, they were always eager for details on my personal life. At least my mother was.
“That’s so sweet of them,” she continued, and my shoulders loosened. “They got you dolmades and spanakopita, your favorites. They must know you really well.”
My shoulders tightened right back up. She wasn’t going to let this go.
“Was it that curly-haired girl we were talking to? The one with the boyfriend?”
My mouth opened, then immediately snapped shut. It would be easy to just claim Cassidy had sent me the flowers. After all, she was still staying at Aaron’s apartment and hadn’t been by to say hello yet.
But it still wouldn’t make sense. Why would Cassidy have flowers delivered instead of just driving over? Plus, if my mother ever saw Cassidy again, she’d thank her for sending the flowers, and Cassidy would have no idea what she was talking about.
God… I set my fork down on the table with a loud metallic clank. All the anxiety and plotting was giving me a headache.
I guess I could always just text Cass and warn her…
Wait… no.
You know what?
Fuck this.
I couldn’t hide the truth forever, and concealing my relationship made me feel like a bad girlfriend. Whether I told my parents today or in six months, they would judge him all the same. Better to get it over with now.
“Was it not her?” my mother continued, and I could feel my jaw clenching. “Was it—?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
It was like a bomb went off. The normal dinnertime sounds of food rustling, mouths chewing, and silverware scraping screeched to a grinding halt. My parents were frozen in an eerie, tense silence .
“Oh, sweetie.” My mom fumbled for her words, shocked but not necessarily unhappy. “Congratulations! When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Wow, so it just started? And he sent you flowers?”
“Well, we’ve known each other for a long time.”
And he told me he loved me last night . But I kept that part to myself.
“Well.” My mother sat up straighter, her excited-squeaky voice at an all-time high. “Who is he? What’s his name?”
“Devin,” I replied flatly, after doing a quick replay of our time at the Critical Games to confirm that I never mentioned his name.
“Does he go to your game shop too?”
Oh boy. We were inching closer to the truth. I felt like I was playing a racing game, about to turn the corner on the final lap and cross over a very dangerous finish line.
My eyes flicked up to my father. His face was set in stone, and I knew his mustache was concealing a heavy-set frown.
“He was the one behind the counter.”
My mother’s face twitched for a second, betraying her joyful exterior. I could see the muscles my father’s neck tightening like a noose.
“The guy with the black hair?”
“Yes. He’s the owner.”
Absolute silence. I felt like my dinner was about to come crawling back up my throat.
“You see this?” My father’s sudden exclamation made blood pound in my ears. “First she runs away from home, and then she spends the next five years avoiding us, not going to church, and now she ends up with—”
“What?” I suddenly found the courage to speak. “What were you about to call him?”
My father’s bushy eyebrows narrowed.
“You know nothing about him. You’re just judging him based on his appearance, aren’t you?”
“I know enough.” A loud, grating squeak made me cringe as my father pushed his chair back and dumped his Styrofoam container in the garbage.
A low, pulsing ache stabbed at my abdomen, and I placed a hand over it. I needed to lie down and continue recovering from my surgery, one that I’d had just a few hours earlier. I did not need to be arguing with my father over this.
I stood up, ignoring the stinging tug of my stitches. Be the bigger person.
“Look, I’m finished eating, and I’m going to go lie down and get some rest. If you want to talk about this without acting like my boyfriend is a monster, feel free to knock on my door.”
I dumped my own takeout container in the trash, determined to walk away from my dumbfounded parents and disappear into my bedroom while keeping a straight face.
But as soon as I was alone, all the air came bursting out of me. I sat down gingerly on the edge of my bed, taking a few deep beaths and trying to calm the adrenalin spike.
I peered over at my phone, which hovered on the edge of my end table.
Hey Dev?
Hey sweetheart. You done with dinner?
Yes, thank you so much. It was delicious. But I need to talk to you about something.
What is it?
Well…my parents prodded me for details about the flowers, and I let it slip that I have a boyfriend.
Ah, how’d they take that? And do they know it was the dude behind the counter at the game shop?
Not great, and yes. My mom wasn’t too bad, but my dad’s kind of…well, an ass. I’m sorry Dev. I hate this.
I know. It’s okay. And trust me, I’m no stranger to it. I dealt with this with my own family.
There was a faint but firm knock on my door, and I sat there, phone in hand and stitches aching from sitting upright, as I debated whether to tell them to come in or go away.
They came in anyway. But thankfully, it was just my mother. I assumed my father was still angrily stewing in the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Her tone was soft but hesitant, like trying to coax a frightened animal. I remained frozen in bed, my lips pressed in a tight line and my phone clutched in my hands. I tried not to focus on how much I’d rather be texting Devin instead of talking with my mother.
“Hi.” I replied bluntly.
“Listen, hun.” She took a seat at the edge of the bed, so our shoulders were less than a foot apart. “I’m sorry about that.”
“What? For Dad?”
“Well…”
“If he’s sorry, then he should be the one to come in here and apologize. ”
A long, deep sigh escaped my mother, and I knew she was frustrated with him too.
“You know how he is, Avery.”
Always with the excuses. Being a pompous asshole shouldn’t be treated like a personality quirk.
“But…” she continued. “I still think it’s wonderful that he sent you flowers and food.”
I turned my head towards my mother. “So, you’re saying it is possible that my boyfriend is a good person and not whatever scum Dad believes him to be?”
She didn’t reply to my biting, sarcastic tone, but I could tell by the way she chewed her bottom lip that she was deep in thought.
“I imagine you’d like to see him.”
“A lot more than you two at the moment.”
“Avery…” my mother scolded, but her frustration quickly softened. “You should invite him over. I’ll make dinner.”
“With Dad here? Sounds like a terrible idea.”
“I’ll handle your father,” she assured me. Her gaze flicked down to my phone. “I’m assuming you’ve been texting him?”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s up to you, but let me know if you do invite him over.”
My mother got up and walked back into the kitchen, leaving me alone to ponder my decision. My gut screamed no; the last thing I needed was to subject my brand-new boyfriend to my judgmental tyrant of a father. There would be so much tension at dinner that I doubted I’d be able to stomach any food, even if it was my mother’s amazing cooking.
But my heart ached to see Devin. I needed his comfort during one of the most uncomfortable and painful weeks of my life. Between the fatigue from the medication and the soreness from my stitches, all I wanted to do was be wrapped up in his arms. I doubted that would happen with my parents hovering around, but I knew I could at least sneak in a quick kiss.
Hey Dev. Sorry, my mom just came in.
What did she say?
Whelp…I have a proposition for you.
Go on.
The good news is we can see each other.
I very much like that news.
The bad news is it’s because my parents want to meet you. Specifically, my mother.
I’m off tomorrow. I can stop by in the evening.
So…you’re up for meeting them?
Well, I’m very much up for seeing you. As for your parents…well, they’ll have to meet me sooner or later.
My mom isn’t that bad. I think she’ll be fine. My dad is the real issue.
Yup. I know the type. I’ll be on my best behavior, but I can’t guarantee I can change his dislike of me.
I don’ t expect you to. I just really want to see you.
I know, sweetheart. In fact, I have an idea.
I could hear hushed but harsh conversation coming from the kitchen. I knew my parents were having a heated discussion about my newfound relationship. I couldn’t make out their words, but I could tell by their tones that my mother was scolding my father, and my father was biting back with his usual gruff, demanding tone.
And based on the way her voice softened, I could tell my mom was running out of steam.
He always wins, I scowled.
What’s that?
Well, I know you can’t sit upright at your desk, but you have a Steam Deck, right?
Yup. I can play it in bed.
I’m pretty sure I added you on Steam a long time ago. I can look and see what games we share.
I looked up from my phone again. It was getting late, and I was less reliant on them than I thought I’d be after surgery. I could get through my nighttime routine and curl up in bed without assistance, so figured I could shoo them back to their hotel to have some gaming time with Devin.
That was partially what happened. My mother said there was no way in hell they were leaving me alone less than a day after surgery, even if I could get up and walk around without issue. They tried to persuade me to come with them to the hotel, but I wanted to recover in the comfort of my own house. Which was a problem, because my parents couldn’t stay there as they would have nowhere to sleep.
Eventually, my father decided to head back to the hotel while my mother set up a makeshift bed on the couch. She was hesitant to even leave me alone in my room, but she relented when I told her I would be going to bed early anyway. I didn’t need her help to sleep.
That was only a partial lie. Because as soon as my father left and my mother settled herself in the living room with the TV on, I curled up into bed with my Steam Deck. I felt guilty leaving her alone in the living room, but I’d had an eventful day, and after our tumultuous dinner I needed some time away from my parents.
Plus, I was exhausted. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d be able to stay awake and game with Devin.
My phone buzzed with a message from him.
Damn, 300 hours in Stardew Valley?
Don’t judge me.
Not judging. I love that game.
Really?
Yeah. With my hectic schedule, sometimes I just want to play something relaxing instead of shooting zombies or coordinating some complicated mission with my cousin.
I giggled. Another thing for me to love about him.
So I take it you want to start a multiplayer game?
Of course. Does this count as moving in together? Gosh, Avie, things might be going a bit too fast.
My nose crinkled. You little brat.
We’re doing separate cabins, mister.
Fiiiine. I get to pick the cat though. I want the one that looks like Gideon.
I giggled as I booted up my Steam Deck, the handheld device’s bright screen flashing like fireworks in my eyes.
We spent the rest of the night that way, alternating between texting and farming, until I eventually called it a night and went to sleep.
I woke up the next morning at 6 a.m. in terrible pain.
My stitches ached and burned with every movement. Even my own breaths making my stomach rise and fall felt like they were pulling my incisions apart.
I stumbled out of bed, my footsteps noticeably less steady than the night before, and staggered out of my bedroom and into the kitchen.
My pain meds were in an orange bottle on the counter. I fiddled with the lock on the container, slid two of them into my palm, and chugged them down with a mouthful of lukewarm water from the kitchen sink.
“Avie, sweetie…”
I looked up, the sink still running and water dripping from my lips. I’d awoken my mother, who sat upright twenty feet away on her makeshift couch-bed.
“It hurts,” I croaked, my chest tightening.
“Come here sweetheart.” My mother hurried across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me. I swallowed hard, refusing to let the pain make me cry, and I realized that it had been years since I hugged my mother like this.
“The injected pain meds probably wore off,” she explained, patting my curly hair. “Lie down and give it some time for the pills to kick in. You’ll probably be like this for a few days.”
She broke our embrace and took me by the hand, leading me back into my bedroom.
“I’ll make you some breakfast,” she promised in her warm, loving mom voice. “And you like tea, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Green or black?”
“Black. English breakfast—far right kitchen cabinet.”
As my mother settled me in bed and turned around to leave, a sudden thought popped into my head.
“Hey Mom?”
She stopped by my bedroom door. “Yes sweetie?”
“How did you know how long the pain lasts? Have you ever had surgery?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“When?”
“I had a c-section when Allen was born.”
My eyebrows shot up. Allen was my youngest brother, born when I was eleven years old.
“I don’t remember you recovering from that. ”
My mother chuckled. “Admittedly I kept it hidden from you kids. And there’s only so much recovering you can do with a newborn and two other children, plus a whole house to keep up with.”
I opened my mouth, ready to reply with shock and confusion, when my mother turned away and closed the door.
With her gone, I slouched down in bed, the pain from my stitches further fueling the flames of my frustration.
Why is being a woman so difficult?
I spent the rest of the morning alternating between sleeping and gaming, and I was so exhausted and dizzy from the pain that my video games started showing up in my dreams. It made it difficult to tell where fantasy ended and reality began, and I didn’t finally start to feel like myself until well into the afternoon.
By that time, my father had arrived from the hotel, and he and my mother were conversing in the kitchen when I woke up. I ran a hand over my stitches and realized that the pain was gone. I assumed that the medication was finally working without the loopy side effects. But just as I went to step out of bed, my mother crept in through the door carrying a ceramic plate.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.” she smiled, setting the plate on my end table. “I rolled some dolmades and made a whole tray of spanakopita while you were asleep. I just heated this piece up.
“Wow, Mom, thank you,” I exclaimed in surprise. “Where did you even get the ingredients to make them?”
“There’s an international grocery store about fifteen minutes away, although your local chain had everything except the grape leaves. Eat up, sweetheart. You need fuel to recover.”
I smiled. The flaky spinach pie smelled delicious, and I could see the freshly microwaved steam wafting off the top.
“Mom. I’m not completely bed bound. I can eat in the kitchen.”
“Okay, sweetie. Just be careful.”
I stepped out into the kitchen and took a seat at the dining table, avoiding my father’s gaze as I stabbed at my lunch with a fork.
“I also have all the ingredients to make some salad and moussaka when your boyfriend arrives,” my mother announced, which made my shoulders twitch a fraction. “What time is he coming over, by the way?”
“Not until five,” I replied.
“So, he is coming?” my father chimed in, although his tone was flat as always.
I nodded, although my gaze quickly returned to my spanakopita. I didn’t like locking eyes with him any longer than necessary.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother shoot him a “be nice” look as she rifled through the fridge.
After I finished my lunch, I loaded my plate in the dishwasher and slunk back into my bedroom. I let out a long, deep yawn as I crawled into bed, one so big it made my jaw ache. My usual routine involved bouncing between work and the game shop, so I was always busy with something. Sleeping this much made me feel lazy and gross.
But I knew I needed rest, and I was asleep again within twenty minutes.
When I opened my eyes again, I was unaware of how much time had passed. But when I realized that the light in my room was growing dimmer, I shot out of bed and grabbed my phone off the end table.
I sighed as I rubbed my aching abdomen. It was 4:20 pm., which meant I had a little over half an hour to make my sluggish, stitched-up self presentable for my boyfriend.
My eyes flicked toward the bathroom. That needs to start with a shower.
Thirty minutes later, I was clean and refreshed, with fluffy blow-dried hair and a loose, plain t-shirt dress that wouldn’t irritate my abdominal stitches. I forced a smile across my face in my bathroom mirror. I looked considerably more presentable, but my face was still puffy and pale.
I was poking at the dark circles under my eyes when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” I exclaimed, scurrying out of my bedroom and into the hallway. I didn’t want Devin to be greeted by my overexcitable mother and judgmental father.
He smiled as soon as I opened the door. He looked different, but before I could take a good look at him, he craned his neck around me, peering through the front door.
I then realized he was making sure my parents couldn’t see us, because he immediately grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.
It lasted far too short. I could still feel it lingering, buzzing on my lips, and I forced them into a polite, innocent smile as we pulled away.
“Hey there sweetheart,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear.
Screw it. I stole another quick kiss.
Parents or no parents, I was thrilled that he was here.