Teetering on our heels, we hurried to the top of the staircase. Just as we were about to walk down, we heard a loud knock on the front door.
“Too late,” my mother whispered harshly from the bottom stair.
Our momentary delay in front of the mirror cost us. We would now be forced to descend my steep, long staircase with an audience, like a pair of modern-day Scarlett O’Haras. Not exactly the impression I wanted to make on Michael’s parents. I’d been kind of hoping to go the nice-girlfriend route, not the drama-queen path.
Glancing at each other first with a mixture of fear and excitement, Ruth and I put on our game faces. We pasted on brave smiles and headed downstairs hand in hand. My dad opened the door about mid-staircase so I couldn’t get a good look at our guests until we neared the bottom stair.
When I final y glanced up from the final step, to which I had my eyes glued so I wouldn’t fal , there stood Michael, so handsome in a dark blue suit and yel ow tie. His green eyes pierced mine, and I didn’t need to ask him how I looked. His expression said it al .
In front of everyone, before he even brought me over to his parents, he took me by the hands and kissed me lightly on the lips. Then he strapped an exquisite rose corsage around my wrist; he already knew there was no space for it on the bodice of my dress. He whispered, “It’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
I should’ve been embarrassed, but I wasn’t.
He broke our gaze first, saying, “Mom, Dad, you remember my El ie.”
My El ie. He knew precisely how to make me melt. I stretched out my hand to a very pretty, chestnut-haired woman who was beginning to gray around the temples. Just like my parents. I’d met his parents twice before—once when they had me over for dinner, and once when we sat together at one of Michael’s footbal games. They were unfailingly pleasant, if a little distant and formal, and somehow we managed to avoid the awkward topic of Guatemala. I stil couldn’t dredge up an image of Michael from the far reaches of my trip memories.
“Mrs. Chase, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too, El ie. You look absolutely lovely tonight. Michael told me about your dress, but his descriptions didn’t do justice to the dress—or you in it.”
I blushed, thinking of Michael talking about me to his parents. Trying to ignore the redness of my cheeks, I welcomed his dad next. He was attractive, with an olive complexion and nearly black hair. I kept searching for family resemblances, but blond, fair Michael didn’t favor either one of them.
My parents joined our conversation. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Ruth, Jamie, and their respective parents made their introductions.
The group moved into the living room, and my mom passed around appetizers while my dad poured soft drinks for the kids and wine for the adults.
An hour passed with surprising ease. School and the dance provided ready topics of conversation, and even Ruth’s usual y recalcitrant dad seemed to relax and open up. Around seven, Michael and Jamie started glancing at their watches and dropping hints that we should leave. The parents acquiesced, but only after they took about a mil ion pictures.
Everyone said their farewel s, and Ruth, Jamie, Michael, and I hopped into Michael’s car. We had decided on one car. We had no idea what the parking would be like, and in any event, we had agreed to hang out at my house afterward.
Michael was just about to pul out of the driveway, when I cal ed out for him to stop. Unused to carrying a purse, I’d left mine on the kitchen counter.
Michael drove me right to the porch’s front steps, and I climbed up them as fast as my spindly heels would al ow. Opening the front door, I was relieved that none of the parents were lingering in the front hal way. I wanted to slip in and slip out without the holdup of more chitchat.
Tiptoeing down the back hal way toward the kitchen, I heard my mom and Michael’s mom talking. So much for going undetected. But then a rush of water from the kitchen sink sounded. I peeked in and saw our moms’ backs as they rinsed off the dishes. Maybe I could slide in and grab my purse unnoticed.
“I stil cannot believe that you and Armaros are in Til inghast,” my mom said in a tone that wasn’t exactly warm.
“We real y had no other choice,” Michael’s mom said apologetical y.
“After we worked so hard to make them forget that they’d ever met—in Guatemala. . . .” My mom’s voice trailed off.
“I know. And so successful y with El ie. Those same techniques didn’t work so wel with Michael, as you know.”
“We did need to have them meet at least once before they come of age, to see how they’d react to one another and to find out what they were capable of together. We needed to take that risk in Guatemala. I just wished they’d ful y forgotten each other,” my mom said.
The way my mom said it made me wonder whether something awful had happened in Guatemala that they wanted me to forget. If only I could get flashes from my parents or Michael about that trip. I’d tried without success. I kept coming up against that same wal .
My thoughts were interrupted by Michael’s mom. “I know, and that’s the only reason we’ve let them spend time together. But it would be so much easier to keep them in the dark until it’s time.”
“It would have been easier if you’d stayed away from Til inghast,” my mom replied, her voice getting louder and angrier.
“You know that the best way to protect them is to have them in the same location. To keep watch over them.”
“You should have contacted us beforehand.”
“It didn’t seem wise. You know that. Tonight—al of us together in one place—was risk enough.” Michael’s mom sounded almost repentant.
