33.
Graham
All right, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit nervous about this whole thing at Chloe’s parents’ house. Lame, I know, but I found myself actually wanting to make a good first impression. Granted, her father kind of sounded like an ass and from that one interaction, I knew her mother was stuck up and pretentious, but I was willing to overlook all that. I had my preconceived notions about them, and they no doubt had their own about me, but maybe, just maybe, we could all get past that.
This time, when I went up to the front door, I was granted entrance. It was Chloe who opened the door. She wore a navy-blue, sleeveless romper with a vintage, floral print and these leather, strappy sandals that laced halfway up her calves. I still couldn’t get over how hot she looked with the hair; it was like seeing her for the first time every time I saw her.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. We kissed, briefly, though I would’ve liked it to last much longer.
“You look great,” I said.
“So do you.”
I hadn’t been sure what to wear; the usual jeans and t-shirt was not going to fly, I knew. I eventually settled on a short-sleeve, plaid button-down and a black pair of shorts. I looked respectable, I thought.
“Hi there, I’m John Singer,” Chloe’s dad said, holding his hand out. I reached to shake it, but we ended up mistiming it and I ended up enclosing his fingertips in my palm.
“Graham,” I said as we both let go. “Nice to meet you.” Jesus. Talk about awkward.
It wasn’t much better with her mother. “Claire,” she said. “I know we’ve already met, but we got off on the wrong foot. So, let’s just pretend that never happened.”
“Sure,” I said. “Why not.”
They looked about as
uncomfortable as I felt, so I guessed we were all just going to have to try to
grin and bear it. Alcohol would help. As if reading my mind, Claire’s dad
suddenly said, “Would you like a beer? Wine?”
“Beer would be great.”
“Why don’t we go out onto the deck,” Claire said. “Chloe and I will get the drinks; Alicia’s made some delicious appetizers, so the two of you can get started on those and we’ll join you shortly.”
“Sure,” I said, though I had no clue who the hell Alicia was. A sister? I didn’t think Chloe had mentioned having any siblings.
I followed her father outside. The deck was huge, overlooking an even bigger green lawn, broken up by several garden plots overflowing with all types of flowers. “Have a seat,” he said, and we sat down at the teak wood table, which was laden with several trays of food.
“So,” John said. He didn’t say anything else after that, though, and just looked increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t strike me as the sort of person who was usually at a loss for words. He looked over at the food and cleared his throat. “It looks like Alicia has put together a fine spread.” He blanched at the potential innuendo that could be deduced from “Alicia’s fine spread,” but neither of said anything. Under other circumstances, we might’ve shared a laugh, but that was clearly not going to happen.
“And Alicia is ...?” I looked around, not seeing this Alicia or any signs of her. I really had no recollection to Chloe ever mentioning her name.
“Our chef,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Today’s usually one of her days off, but we asked she come in and prepare something since you were coming by.”
I smiled. “I gave my chef the day off today.”
He returned my smile, though I could tell it was mostly to cover up his confusion as to whether or not I actually had a chef.
“Anyway,” he said. “These are the appetizers here, and it looks like we’ve got some grilled portabellas, bacon wrapped scallops, and some crab cakes, which are one of Alicia’s specialties.”
“Everything looks great.”
I imagined Alicia, trapped in the hot kitchen, a huge ball and chain attached to her leg, being forced to make hundreds and hundreds of crab cakes ....
I laughed, just a little, but enough that I couldn’t cover it up with a cough or something.
Chloe’s dad looked at me.
“Something funny?”
“Oh, uh ...”
Luckily, Chloe and her mother appeared with the drinks, saving me from trying to think up an excuse for my laughter.
“Here we go!” her mother said cheerfully.
“So, Graham, tell us about your childhood. Did you grow up here?”
“Afraid so,” I said, intending it to be a joke—yes, a bad one, I know—but realizing that neither of Chloe’s parents were going to take it that way.
“Oh.” They exchanged glances. “Is something wrong with the Cape?” her mother asked.
“No, I don’t mean it that way. Although, winters here can be kind of rough. That was just my attempt at a lame joke.”
There was some forced laughter and then some more silence.
There was absolutely no cohesion, no meshing, no middle ground for us to meet on. To combat the complete awkwardness, I drank more beer. Drinking more beer made me more affable. I laughed louder, longer. Was that thing Chloe’s dad said even that funny? Questionable, but I laughed anyway. And here was her mother, trying to reignite the conversation, asking me what my parents did for a living.
Under normal circumstances, I would have said that my mother was a waitress and I didn’t have contact with my father. But not today. Today I chugged the rest of my beer. I looked at Chloe’s mother.
“My mother works in the service industry. And by service industry I mean The Finery. Know of that place?”
Claire had no idea, but for a second, I swear, John blanched. And the reason he did so was because he did know the place. Whether that was just because he’d driven by there or actually had personal experience, I had no idea, but finally! Common ground. I seized the opportunity.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. I leaned over and clapped him on the back. He nearly jumped out of his seat. “You know The Finery!”
“What? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But the look on his face said he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“What is it? What’s The Finery?” Claire asked, looking first to John, then to me.
Chloe nudged me. I had no idea if she knew what The Finery was, but from the expression on her face, I had a feeling she’d at least heard about it.
“Is it some place I’d like to go?” Claire asked after no one answered her previous question. She fixed her gaze back on me. “So, your mother works there, Graham?”
“It’s basically been the only job she’s ever had. Started right out of high school. A dancer, back then, but now she’s waitressing. That’s where she met my dad! Allegedly.” I took another sip of beer.
It wasn’t quite registering for Claire, yet. I could see her trying to process what I’d just said, figuring out if by “dancer” I met New York City Ballet or ... the other kind of dancer.
“This risotto’s really good,” Chloe said.
“What ... what kind of dancing did she do?” Claire asked.
It was like there were two parts of me: the rational part that knew I should just shut the hell up, there was no reason to keep going with this, and then the other part was enjoying this, that wanted to see where this was going to go. That enjoyed seeing John squirm a little, because he’d probably never had to squirm in his life, because he was the sort of guy who was used to giving the orders and being in charge and never having anyone question him. It felt good, to that part of me that was having fun, yet the rational part of me knew it wasn’t fair because I didn’t really know Chloe’s dad. Yes, it was easy enough to just group him in with all the other, wealthy summer residents, with his salmon-pink, Lacoste golf shirt and his pressed, cream-colored shorts, but did I personally know the guy? No, I did not. Not yet anyway, though from the look on his face, I probably wasn’t going to have the chance to get to know him. At least not today.
Claire looked at John. “What kind of place is this?” she demanded.
“Honey ...” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s nowhere, okay? Let’s just drop it.”
“No, I want to know.”
“Maybe we should just drop it, Mom,” Chloe said.
But Claire acted as though she hadn’t even heard Chloe, and John was looking more agitated by the second, and suddenly the air had a very electric feel to it, kind of the way it does right before a big lightning storm.
“Yeah, I’m not staying here to witness this,” Chloe said. She stood up and reached for my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”