“Are you sure you’re okay, Paul? We don’t have to do this tonight, you know.” Glancing over the center seat of Paul’s rather large truck, I nibbled my bottom lip absentmindedly, and he nodded firmly. His expression was set deep in determination; his hands firm on the wheel, as he navigated towards the suburbs, and he didn’t look away from the road as he opened his mouth.
“I’m fine, babe. It’s just a headache. With all of the work I’ve been doing in the shop - all the stress - I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.” My eyes narrowed as Paul’s gruff voice caressed my ears, and I slowly scanned his form. He could’ve been nervous; I certainly wouldn’t blame him for being anxious about ‘meeting’ my mom officially.
“You’re sweating.” Bland and monotonous, my declaration caused Paul to purse his lips together, and I rubbed my bracelet-clad wrist in slight agitation. “Paul, I’m serious. We can reschedule. It won’t make you look bad, I promise.”
“I don’t want to reschedule, McKayla. This is important for me, okay? It’s not about looking bad or anything - trust m e- but this is the first time I’m having a conversation with your mom that involves more than pleasantries over a plate of store-bought, frozen cake.” Frowning slightly, I sat back in my seat and let the conversation drop, no matter how unhappy I was. Paul had said, and my mother had reiterated, that they knew each other. They just didn’t know much, but they were both excited; my mom, because she knew Paul was a great man, and Paul, because she was my mom.
But Paul was damn near working himself to death trying to get his apartment squared away, and he hadn’t even started on the place yet. On top of running his business, he’d organized everything to clean up the mess his brother had made, and he had jumped into looking for a good foreclosure to buy.
All of it within the past week- it was just too much for one person, and it showed.
“Is that your mom’s house?” I was so stuck in my thoughts that I didn’t realize how close we were until Paul spoke up with alarm coloring his voice. Leaning forward to stare out the windshield, my jaw dropped at the number of cars that lined the entire block. The stench of shifter hit me, now that I wasn’t immersed in my head, and I scrunched up my nose as despair wailed against my skull.
“Oh, no …” Dread laced my whisper as I caught sight of the brightly colored balloons tied to the mailbox, and I sat back with a hard thud while Paul hit the brakes a little harder than necessary. “This is bad. I thought it was just going to be us three - that’s what she told me. I swear to God, I didn’t know this was going to happen, Paul.”
“What - what’s happening? You know what - you were right. Fuck this - I’m turning around.”
“Wait!” I reached for his arm and stopped Paul from turning his massive hunk of shiny, well-maintained metal in the middle of the street. He stopped completely, and his glare was as hot as his skin underneath his button-down as I rushed to speak up. “It’s not bad … it’s a mating celebration. And judging by the amount of people, everyone showed up - my mom’s side and my dad’s. It’s tradition.”
I knew this was stressful for Paul, and I beat down my own turmoil about my father for his sake. He paled, looking ready to throw up; his demeanor crumbled completely compared to when we’d spoken in his office. His reaction just proved to me how badly he was feeling, and I scooted over into the middle seat to rub his shoulder soothingly.
“If we don’t go, we’ll be ostracized - it’s something the families have done for as long as anyone can remember.” Now, I wished I had insisted harder that we postpone this meeting, but it was too late. A purplish-red anger took over Paul’s expression, and I reached up to trace his smooth scalp, as this sparked a hot annoyance in my chest. “We’ll only stay an hour - not even. But we have to go.”
“Why? Fuck them, McKayla - seriously, I refuse to stand around pretending like I care about what your -” I cut Paul’s pissed off, venomous spitting with a finger to his lips, and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. His eyes sparkled and roiled with such tumultuous emotion that it almost hurt to keep his gaze, but I managed, as my beast rose up to soothe him.
“It’s not just my dad - my mom’s side is here, too. And if we don’t go, they’ll make it hard for me and her to have any type of close relationship. Trust me - I’ve seen it before with my cousin. He disrespected the tradition, and his own parents abandoned him. Our human sides are connected, yes, but our bear sides are much easier to give in to. Bears are naturally solitary animals, Paul.” Slowly, so slowly, Paul seemed to really realize the full impact of this event, and he sucked in a sharp breath that left me cold. “I know - I know it sucks. I really, really don’t want to be involved either, but it’s just an hour. My mom’s side doesn’t like my dad already - they’ll have no problem if you don’t, either. Just - please, Paul.”
“… Fine. But if your father even glances at me, I’m going to beat the shit out of him.” Relief slumped my shoulders, and Paul turned back to the road to roll towards my mother’s empty driveway. The closer we came, the louder the noise became, the sharper the smells of food and people, and anxiety quickly replaced the lost tension in my muscles.
Betrayal wedged in my heart, but I wasn’t mad at my mother, exactly. She knew I’d never consent to any of this, and that was why she’d lied. I could understand that- but she’d still lied.
“One hour, McKayla.” Paul shut his door OVERLY carefully, as he spoke over the truck, and I nodded firmly as I rounded the front. I stared at the daunting walkway that led to the backyard, trying to drown out the sounds of people talking, laughing, and the smell of whatever was on a barbeque. Coming up next to me, he took my hand to entwine our fingers tightly, and I held back just as hard.
As we rounded the garage, I worked on keeping my thoughts positive, and I hoped my growing vibe would rub off on Paul. This wasn’t an all bad thing, I told myself.
There were people here I liked. People I liked that I haven’t seen in years. People that were genuinely happy for me and weren’t here to start drama. My mom likes to have a good party every once and a while. She’s probably happy beyond her wits to finally throw this celebration, since she never got her own.
I repeated those rationalizations over and over again, silently, and I was surprised at how much it worked. My lips turned up in a smile when I heard my uncle’s familiar, boisterous laughter, and little voices of children tickled my ears. The smell of meat caused my mouth to water, and the scent of vegetables charring tangled in the air.
If nothing else, the food would be great.
By the time we reached the wooden gate that surrounded the yard, Paul had relaxed some, too, and that only brightened my mood. Unfastening the latch, I took a deep breath to steady myself before swinging the gate open. The squeal of unoiled hinges crackled across the immediate area, and Paul squeezed my hand hard, when three dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly on us. For a long moment, just like at the bowling alley, everything was quiet, but it only lasted a second before loud, rowdy cheers erupted.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the bolt of pure happiness that shot through me like lightning. Before I saw my dad - before anything could go wrong - everything was perfect.
But just as quickly as that realization came, it disappeared on the smoke billowing from the grill. A ripple of unrest surged through the crowd, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad stride into view. He nudged a few people none-too-gently, leaving low growls and sneers in his wake, and that dread I’d felt only minutes ago came creeping up my neck.
The cheers dulled and the air filled with tension and apprehension. Paul tugged on my arm with a small, half-step forward. He released my hand, standing tall and visibly pissed, just as my father came up on us.
I don’t know what I was expecting; Paul’s threat had been very real, but I didn’t think he’d actually do anything.
I was so wrong.
My father didn’t even have time to take a breath in preparation to speak before Paul’s fist was headed on a collision course for his face. His long, muscular arm extended, closing the distance easily, and the woosh of the air was cut off by a loud crack and subsequent shout. Shock mixed into the atmosphere, as my dad hit the ground on his ass, and my jaw slackened even as my hands clutched my chest.
Paul didn’t make any further advances, and no one moved to help my father scramble up from the ground. The older of the two males raked his fingers through his hair, glaring, but my gaze didn’t linger. Puffing out his chest, my mate dared my father, with just his stance, to try something- to give him any reason.
My beast bristled with a pride that nearly choked me when my dad just made a disgusted sound and stormed off. He disappeared behind the opposite side of the house, leaving quiet in his wake, before my mom appeared in front of us out of thin air. She held a tray of watermelon, and was grinning widely despite - or maybe because - of what had just happened, and her tone was much too cheery when she spoke.
“Well, it’s about damn time!”