I was relieved when Lisa came from the living room and gave Clay a stern look. “Don’t you come into this house like an elephant. Close the door like you have some sense.” She looked at me. I knew I was pale and she must have sensed the tension radiating from Clay. “Hey, Maggie. Nice to see you.” Her smile was kind and I tried to give one back. I’m sure it was shaky.
Clay slammed the door shut and dropped his book bag. “So, where are they?” he barked.
Lisa frowned. “Get it together, Clay. They just got here thirty minutes ago. Ruby ran out to get some stuff for dinner.” Clay turned his angry gaze on Lisa, who didn’t flinch but stood steady. I would have withered under that glare.
“Did you know they were coming?” he demanded accusingly.
Lisa put her finger in his chest. “Now, look here, Clayton Reed. Don’t give me your damn attitude. Their visit was as much a surprise to Ruby and me as it is to you. But don’t go in there like a bull in a china shop. Like it or not, they’re still your parents and they have a say in what happens to you. Remember that.”
Her warning was rational, but Clay was a bit beyond rational at this point. Lisa looked at me to help her. I tried taking Clay’s hand again. He let me interlace my fingers with his, but he didn’t squeeze mine back.
“Clay. Come on. Acting like this will only make things worse. Please.” I moved so that I stood in front of him and pulled his face down to look at me.
His eyes darted around so they wouldn’t make contact with mine. “Damn it, Clay!” I implored.
Finally, he looked at me and he softened as he saw my worry. “Christ! I’m doing it again. I’m sorry,” he whispered and I was glad to see some of the tension leave his shoulders. But he still looked mad.
“Well, let’s go see Mommy and Daddy Dearest,” he said sarcastically. Lisa nodded and stepped aside as we started down the hallway. She didn’t follow, apparently wanting to give Clay some privacy. I stood beside him, trying to show him my support.
It was eerily quiet. Walking into the kitchen, I got my first look at Mr. and Mrs. Reed. Mr. Reed sat at the small kitchen table, typing away on his laptop. He was dressed casually in black slacks and a blue button-down shirt, although his clothes probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Clay was the spitting image of his father. Looking at Mr. Reed was like getting a glimpse of Clay thirty years into the future. Mr. Reed was a good-looking man, with dark hair dusted with gray. The skin around his eyes was just now starting to show signs of crow’s-feet. He appeared very stiff, his face a complete blank as he read the screen in front of him.
Clay’s mother was trying to work the ancient coffeemaker on the counter. She was decked out in a gray pencil skirt, ruffled blouse, and heels. Her red hair, the exact same shade as that of her sister, Ruby, was swept back from her face in a severe bun.
Clay cleared his throat. His dad didn’t acknowledge him, but his mother turned to look, with what seemed to be a fake smile on her perfect lips. Her eyes were a bright blue and icy cold.
“Well, there’s my baby boy,” she cooed, but made no move to hug or kiss him. Clay’s eyes were fixed on his father, who still hadn’t looked up from his computer.
God, Clay had been right when he described them as cold and loveless. I couldn’t imagine growing up with this couple as my parents. And I felt the guilt again as I thought of my own warm and loving mother and father who, in all of their overprotectiveness, just wanted what was best for me.
“Coffee?” Mrs. Reed asked, after finding the filters and grounds.
Clay and I shook our heads. “Why are you here?” Clay demanded, getting straight to the point. I cringed, not feeling comfortable being privy to this familial exchange. His fingers clenched mine so tightly they were cutting off my circulation.
“We wanted to see you, Clay. To make sure everything was the way it should be,” his mother said frostily. Her eyes moved to our joined hands and she looked me over appraisingly.
“And this is... ?” Mrs. Reed looked at me pointedly.
Clay stood up straight. “This is my girlfriend, Maggie Young,” he told her, his voice hard. I stuck my free hand out in an attempt at civility, though Mrs. Reed had made no such motion towardme.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Reed.”
She looked down at my outstretched hand and then back at my face. She looked at me with suspicion for a moment, but the expression vanished and was replaced with her practiced fake politeness.
She took my hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. “And you, Maggie. This is Clayton’s father, Nicholas. Nick, say hello,” she commanded, as if her husband were a child.
Nick Reed finally lifted his eyes from his laptop. His gaze slid over me, head to toe, as if assessing a horse, never making eye contact, then returning to his work.
“Hello,” he said without interest. Clay stiffened beside me at his father’s rudeness.
This was becoming increasingly awkward as the silence stretched on. “Girlfriend? Well, isn’t that... nice,” Mrs. Reed commented, though her tone registered distaste.
“So, you’re just stopping by, right? I mean, you can see everything’sfinehere,” Clay said. He was becoming increasingly more agitated, if that was possible. I squeezed his hand to try to help him calm down.
His mother looked at him, making it clear that she didn’t believe his assertion that everything was okay. “Iseverything fine, Clayton? I think that has yet to be determined.” What a bitch! It was as if she wanted something to be wrong with Clay. Mrs. Reed poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, crossing her legs.
Watching Clay and me levelly with icy eyes, she sipped her drink. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. I tried not to squirm beneath her steely gaze.
