“Well, hello to you too, Jaymes,” Chloe says.
“Not my name.”
“Whatever, Jayson. Listen…" She shoves the food into his one free hand, the chips just barely balancing on the box. “Where’s the bathroom because I came right from the studio and nama-pee-my-pants if I don’t find one soon.”
“I’ll show you,” Ronan chimes in from the grill. He hands the tongs to Mikey and beelines it right for Chloe. I don’t know Ronan all that well, but I can’t help but notice the way Chloe’s steady resolve wavers for just an instant when Ronan places his hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the house.
Jay kisses my temple before heading to dump Chloe’s snacks onto the food table. I take the opportunity to pull my phone from my purse that’s been hanging on the back of a chair since I texted Chloe.
I’m surprised to see three missed calls from Dad, one from Mom, and a missed text from each of them. Instantly, panic overtakes me. My throat grows tight and there’s an itchy heat that threatens to engulf me completely in flames. I immediately think the worst. They crashed their car on the way to the hotel, they’re broken down on the side of the road, someone is sick, someone is hurt. I fumble my phone attempting to open my messages. Dad’s is first.
DAD:Call me.
Typical. And in no way helpful being that “Call me” from Dad could mean “Just wanted to say hi” or “My whole family is dead.” I let out a frustrated grunt and steady my shaking fingers to flip back to the message screen. I click on Mom’s name next.
MOM:Hi, honey. Dad thinks we may have left the garage door open and the Maverick’s inside. He’s sort of freaking out. Could you please go over and make sure it’s closed?
Relief washes over me. I type out a quick reply letting her know I’ll get it done and take a cleansing breath. There’s nothing like a quick panic attack to celebrate our country’s birth.
Jay must see the alarm still on my face when he returns because as soon as he looks at me, his hands are on my shoulders, his face bent to meet mine.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I had all of these missed calls and texts from my parents but they just need me to run to their house really quickly. It’s nothing,” I repeat more for myself than for him. I take another deep breath and he relaxes with me.
“I’ll drive.”
“No, that’s okay, you don’t have to leave the party. I can come right back.”
“Claire,” he says. “Wherever you are, remember?”
It’s so simple, but it means…everything. I press a soft kiss to his lips and when I pull back his eyes stay closed. It’s like I can see his layers falling to ash all around him.
When he finally opens them, he nods toward the door. “Let's go.”
The panic I had just minutes ago definitely sobered me up, but it’s only when I get to the car that I realize I probably shouldn’t have driven anyway. Thank God Jay insisted on coming with me.
I felt bad leaving Chloe as soon as she got there, but when I went to tell her I was leaving, she and Ronan were dropping shot glasses into pints of beer. I explained the situation and her exact words were, “Sounds good, Claire. Bombs away!”
So here we are, pulling out onto the street from Sean’s house to go to my parent’s and for some reason, I’m still nervous.
“You okay?” Jay asks and this is the second time tonight that he’s been able to read my worry.
“Yeah. Is it weird that I’m anxious about you going to my parent’s house even if they aren’t there?” He noticeably stiffens, his jaw and hands both tighter, the naked lady on his forearm dancing from the way he keeps flexing and releasing his fingers around the wheel. “Not becauseof you!” I add. “It’s just, the last family dinner didn’t go so great. I told them about not going back to work.”
He nods in understanding, his eyes still on the road. “Tell me about them,” he says.
“My parents?”
“No, the shirts Chloe’s always wearing with the weird sayings on them. I just need to know what store they’re from.” He chances a look in my direction and the corners of his lip curl just briefly.
“Ha ha very funny,” I say. “But jokes on you because she buys them online.”
“Yes, your parents, Claire.”
My heartbeat quickens like it’s entering fight or flight, and I’m not sure if it’s the fact that this is the same topic that caused tension before or if dinner the other night has now made me acutely aware of my parent’s strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never really talked about them like this before. Being an only child, I didn’t grow up having siblings to complain to or talk to about this kind of thing. There was no “Oh my God, Mom’s the worst!” or “Can Dad like take a chill pill?” It was always just me, internalizing all of the good and the bad and tucking it away until well — maybe right now.
“Mom is,” I pause looking for the word. “Positive. No matter what the situation, she’s always upbeat. She’s constantly moving, doing things for others, hanging out with her friends, and volunteering, and it’s like she somehow just keeps going. Where most people’s social battery would drain, hers must run off sunshine and Jesus because it never runs out.
