Chapter 32 Gwen - Meet the Parents
I’m kicking my past self right in ass for agreeing to a dinner with my parents on the last night of the most perfect vacation of my life. I know before we even walk into the restaurant that this is going to be a colossal mistake.
After not having seen dear old Mom and Dad face-to-face for over a year, introducing them to my Miller and Penelope feels wrong.
I don’t want to share them, I don’t want to share any part of my life with my parents now.
I don’t know how we got to this point where the people who birthed and raised me feel like complete and total strangers, but it’s where we are.
I’m angry, but it hurts more than anything.
I put on my fakest smile and turn to Miller and P before we approach the doors.
“Okay, here’s the rundown. They’re Larry and Jean.
Don’t call them Mr. and Mrs. Bozelli. They hate it.
They’re weirdo hippies who actively choose to live on a cruise ship.
Please don’t take anything they say to heart.
I try my hardest not to. Argue nothing. P, if you’re confused by anything they say, just smile and nod.
It’ll get us out of here faster. When it’s all said and done and we get to say goodbye, I’ll buy you each an ice cream scoop bigger than your heads. Deal?”
Penelope perfectly executes a smile and nod. Her mouse ears flop on the top of her head. She hasn’t taken them off since we entered the state of Florida. That’s my fucking girl.
Miller is harder to convince though. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Is there a reason we need a military level debrief before walking in here, Gwen?”
I blow out a breath. “Ugh, no. I’m probably overreacting. But I’d rather us all be extra prepared. Let’s just…can we just get this over with please?”
Miller leans in and kisses my forehead, warming me all over, and easing my mind instantly. “I got you,” he whispers.
I straighten my shoulders and take the hand he’s offering.
He opens the door and holds it for us, and the three of us enter the packed restaurant.
I pretend I don’t see my mom’s big head of grey curls tied up with a red bandana bobbing as she waves her hand frantically back and forth to get my attention.
My dad’s approach is just as subtle. Meaning it’s not. “Red! Get over here! Red!” My dad elbows the man sitting at the table next to him. “Look at our daughter, the beauty!”
Yep. That’s me. The shiny trophy signifying every box in life is checked off.
“Hey, guys,” I greet as we arrive at their table, kissing both of them on the cheek. Miller doesn’t let go of my hand, but holds out the other to shake my father’s.
“Hi, Mr. Bozelli. Miller Caswell, it’s very nice to meet you. Thank you both so much for making time for us tonight.”
“Please, son, call me Larry. Jean will ask the same of you, so don’t even try.”
“Told you,” I mumble to Miller. He squeezes my hand in answer.
“Hi Jean, it’s a pleasure. This is my daughter, Penelope.” Miller puts his hand on Penelope’s shoulder in front of us, and she offers a shy wave.
My mother turns her attention to Penelope who’s been twisting her head every which way, trying to keep up.
“Oh, hello there, little one. Aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen?
A doll, she’s like a real life doll!” Mom coos.
“Sit, sit, everyone get comfy. We want to know everything. Give us the scoop. How’s Merrymount? ”
We all get settled in our seats and the server brings over three more menus. “Home’s good. The cafe is basically running itself.”
“As it should. We planned it that way for you, Red,” my dad interjects.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I acknowledge him. “As I was saying, things are fine—”
“Have you had to see Dean lately? What about that baby of his?” This time it’s my mom’s turn for interruptions.
“I’d appreciate it if we don’t mention my ex-husband and his escapades, thank you.” I keep my voice level and look over the menu, silently looking for the option I can scarf down the fastest.
“Well then I apologize for mentioning someone who has always been such a large chunk of your life,” my mom says after a sip of her wine. I feel Miller’s grip tighten on my leg, and I cough to avoid further comment.
We place our orders and all manage to keep conversations polite and surface-level as the food arrives. I feel like I’m sharing a meal with complete strangers. It’s making my skin crawl.
Miller is trying his best. I can tell he’s biting his tongue with every backhanded compliment from both of my parents and trying to distract himself with extra attentiveness toward Penelope and by keeping a hand firmly planted on my thigh.
I thought I had a good relationship with my parents; we looked like the perfect family in pictures. But when I try to break down what we meant to each other, it’s really hard for me to see any sort of connection. They don’t know anything about me. They never bothered to try.
“So, Miller. Our Little Red here tells me you live above our cafe. How are you liking things?”
“We’re extremely grateful things worked out the way they did. The apartment is great.”
“Love to hear it, son. Our Red isn’t always known to make the best choices, but it seems like she got it right this time.” My dad pats my head.
Miller places his napkin on top of his empty plate. “With all due respect, Gwen is the smartest woman I know,” he says it matter of factly, not breaking my father’s eye contact once.
“Gwen?” my mom scoffs. “You hear that, Lar? Gwen! Barely know her!”
“Yeah, I’ve gathered that,” Miller retorts.
“You wanna try that again?” My dad leans into the table, the act of sincerity ditched.
Fuck.
“It’s this silly thing. You call me Red. Miller calls me Gwen. Names! Am I right?” I have no idea what I’m saying, just word vomiting to get us out of a potential brawl.
“Listen, Larry. I’m fine to sit here and talk about your travels, because Gwen asked me to. But you’re not going to directly or indirectly insult her in front of me again.”
“I would never insult my daughter. I’m just aware of her capabilities. That's why we set her up.”
“You’re joking, right? Did you ever stop to think she might not have needed that? Or wanted it, for that matter?”
“Miller, honey…” My mom tries to mediate. “Clearly, you care deeply about our daughter. That means a lot to us.”
“Does it?” Miller snaps. “Because I would think you’d have made an effort to show face at any point over the past year.”
“We’re busy people with our own lives. When you get older, you’ll understand the juggling act—”
“Age has nothing to do with this. Please do not patronize me. I’ve handled more in my short twenty-three years than you could imagine.
You’ve spent your only meal with your only daughter lobbing offhand comments about her intelligence and capabilities instead of begging for a chance to see a glimpse into her world–the world she created completely on her own. ”
Miller pushes away from the table and stands. “I’ll handle the bill at the front. This was…insightful. Thank you.”
I follow his lead, tapping at Penelope’s placement for her to get up as well. Poor kid is wide-eyed and confused as hell. She’s getting a double scoop of ice cream.
“Sit down,” my dad tries to command.
“No,” I plainly state.
“Red, I don’t know what this is all about, and I know he had his issues, but Dean would never speak to your father this way,” my mom says.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, I don’t give a fuck what Dean would do.
Are you kidding? That’s where you go with this?
Miller’s right. It’s like you never cared, and now I don’t think I care.
Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for a while.
I’m busy. With my family.” I pick Penelope up and march towards the sweet sight of freedom on the other side of the restaurant’s doors.
Neither my mother or father try to follow. I’m not sure why I thought they might.
Okay, so the return airport process is never as fun as when you’re leaving for the trip. The only thing keeping the three of us from not completely moping at the gate is the fact that we get to go home and see Ladybug.
I’m swiping through all of the pictures with Penelope that Daisy sent me while we've been away while Miller is busy stocking up on overpriced snacks for us.
“Do you think he misses us?” Penelope asks while resting her head on my shoulder after a particularly cute picture of Ladybug snuggled up on her pillow.
“Duh,” I assure her.
“Good, because I miss him. And Auntie Margot.”
“Me freaking too, tiny human.”
I haven’t updated anyone on everything that went down with my parents last night, so that’ll be a fun catch-up with Margot when she picks us up from the airport.
It still feels too raw, and I don’t want to take away from the rest of the trip, because up until that dinner, it really was picture perfect.
Getting to experience something I felt like I knew like the back of my hand through the eyes of a child for the first time is indescribable.
Penelope watched and sang along to the firework show with tears streaming down her face.
Every character she got to meet, she hugged for what felt like an eternity.
I wish I could bottle up her squeals of delight from every ride.
I’m itching to toss every other photo album—aside from the one Miller made me—into my junk closet and only display my Christmas gift and the one I’m going to get to put together from this trip.
Between the hundreds of pictures, I don’t know how I’m going to narrow them down.
Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just have multiple books.
When Miller said I got you last night before we walked into the restaurant, he meant that.
He held me as I silently cried for hours in bed, well into the early hours of the morning.
For as much work as I’ve put into therapy and bettering myself, I kept the dam locked on my emotions relating to my parents for as long as I possibly could.
It was excruciating to have them all flood out unexpectedly.
Today is better. Today I don’t have to go home to an unbearably empty house filled with broken dreams and promises.
But damn it, it still really fucking sucks.
“For you.” Miller holds out a coffee, and I snatch it up, inhaling that first sip greedily. “And for you.” He then hands Penelope a cake pop, which she chomps down on.
“Thank you,” we both manage to mumble.
We still have some time before boarding so Penelope digs in her backpack, pulling out her kitty cat headphones, and plugging them into her tablet.
“So, I have an idea,” I say to Miller.
“Sounds good.” He sips on his own coffee.
“I haven’t even told you what it is yet!”
“So? If you came up with it, I’m on board. You know that. Come on, baby. Lay it on me.”
“What if you and Penelope and Ladybug came to like, stay at the bungalow…”
“Tonight?” he asks.
“Tonight, tomorrow, uh, whenever?” I don’t know why I’m being so awkward. I’ve been staying at the apartment for weeks, and it’s completely illogical when I have a giant ass house that’s collecting dust.
“Easiest yes of my life. Fair warning, I still want to punch your neighbor.”