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“Did you guys live together?”
“No. I asked her to move in but she liked her space and I didn’t mind that she danced around the subject. She had a bunch of stuff at the house, and she did stay over a lot, but it was never our home, it was just my house. She was always a guest, and she acted like it when she was here sometimes. That’s not to say that I didn’t want her to still move in after she said she wasn’t going to. But I just didn’t press it.”
I smiled. This was Our House, even though it’s legally Max’s. We have made it a home.
As if he could read my mind, he continues; “The house now, is no longer myhouse, it’s ours. And that’s special to me. I’ve never lived with any females other than my mother. You never treated yourself as a guest here, and I’m happy about that. Your stuff mixes well with mine. Maybe one day, we’ll want a bigger house but for now this is our families house.”
My insides have now melted. This conversation was a little too intense but it was needed.
“Now, get off your hiney and get dressed. I won’t complain if you wear that to my parents, but I have a feeling you won’t be comfortable.”
* * *
Maxand I walked into his childhood home hand in hand. I wore flats so I wouldn’t trip and fall, but my legs were Jello. In between Max practically pouring his heart out before we left to the nerves of meeting the parents, I’m praying that I don’t land on my face.
“Mom! Dad! We’re here!” Max shouts as soon as he closes the front door.
“In here.” A deep masculine voice booms from somewhere in the house.
Their house is a two story ranch house, with an open plan. We’ve entered the living space and are continuing to the kitchen, which is around the corner.
An older couple moves gracefully around each other as they go back and forth between a counter, an island, the sink and the stove. It’s choreographed so beautifully, I feel slightly bad for eavesdropping on their moment. Max’s mom looks up and her eyes go wide. She hastily wipes her hands on her white frilly apron and is making her way around the corner to Max and I.
“You must be Tatum. Oh my goodness, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you!” She gushes as she surrounds me with her arms.
Max is snickering beside me, but his mom breaks her hug with me to hug him as well.
“Mother.” He greets hugging her back.
“I’m so angry with you young man!” She sneers at him pulling back.
“What did I do this time?” He’s reminding me like he’s a young boy in trouble, afraid of his mom when she’s angry. I know that fear, my mom was scary when she got angry.
“You’ve been harboring Tatum all to yourself, you never were very secretive with your previous girlfriends.” She says and looks surprised as she looks at me. “Sorry.” She says to me
“It’s okay, I’m well aware of Max’s previous dalliances.” I admit perfectly fine with her bringing up his past. That conversation we had really helped, I’m sure I would have had an insecure moment just then.
“Well, we’ve been busy. Tatum works, I work then when we’re not working…” He smiles with a flirtatious look towards me.
“I don’t need to know those parts of your lives.” His mom swats at his chest and turns back to the kitchen waving us further in.
Max’s father introduces himself to me and resumes his part of the dinner preparation. Explaining as well as demonstrating the benefits of a kitchen slap chop with cooking. Max acts bored, but I’m enthralled. I would love to be able to cook, especially cook good food.
“Max, will you be a dear and set the table please?” His mother requests. “Dinner will be ready in about 30 minutes. Davis and Katrina were unable to join us so it’s just the four of us. I understand that Davis works with you?”
“Yes, strange as that is. I didn’t know Davis was Max’s brother when we, uh… met.”
“It’s almost like a movie, serendipitous,” his mom gushes.
“Could be, except a more updated version, perhaps a rated R version.” Max says from behind me.
“Maximus!”
“What, there was a lot of drinking involved the night we met to be fair, some nudity, and probably vulgar language.” Max smiles as he rests chin on my shoulder.
“Attaboy.” His father mumbles over the plate he’s preparing.
My face turns red and Max chuckles. “I don’t think we need give a play by play account of the night for your parents.”
