That was the last time I'd introduced a woman to my parents, although they'd been anything but interested back then. "Nineteen is too young to get engaged. You're only babies," was my mom's assertion.
This didn't go down well with me, and especially not with Kirsten. She'd considered herself an adult and didn't appreciate being called a baby. Mom and dad had the right of it though. We were far too young and too stupid to know it was a bad idea.
It had put a strain on my relationship with both my parents and Kirsten. While I'd broken up with her not four weeks later, it had taken longer to reconcile with my folks.
Even now, I don't see them as often as I should, with mom left to endure dad's bad moods when he's in pain thanks to his arthritis. Thankfully, today appears to be one of his good days with him as likely to smile as scowl in pain.
After lunch, I'm all for heading back to Sand 'O' Sun, desperate to see how Kelly is. She was out of sorts when we left, but given I was the reason, I hadn't wanted to stay around and comfort her.
Clive, however, is keen on carrying on. "If it's okay, Audrey promised we could visit a vineyard or two."
I'm about to argue this when I hear Audrey on the phone. "Hey Kelly, just ringing to let you know we'll be home by dinnertime. Uh huh, that's a great idea. Thai okay with you?" She nods before adding. "Great, green chicken curry is my favorite, too."
After this, there seems little point in my arguing for an early return. I shouldn't lose sight of the fact that Audrey and Clive are here on vacation. I'd be an asshole to mess that up for them.
However, as the afternoon progresses, I become more and more desperate to get back to Kelly, to tell her that everything will be okay. To say that I can't commit right now, but that it won't always be like that.
This sees me first through the front door when we arrive home with plastic bags bulging with Thai takeaways. After dumping my two bags on the kitchen counter, I head straight for Kelly's office, surprised to find she's not there.
Hadn't she told me she had a direct mail piece to work on? A quick check of the garage and I can see she's not there either, although there's evidence that she's been busy. The flames streaking the length of the rocket are epic. On closer inspection, I see that she's used spray paint to achieve the effect.
I'm thundering back upstairs soon after, desperate to see the woman I love, even if I can't admit that to myself, or to her.
