Love Notes

Chapter 17-Charlie



The day passes in a blur, especially choir, and before I know it, it’s time to go home, or basically to Hell.

I’m determined to have the talk with my parents about Maverick coming over. I know this is the only way I will ever be able to be seen with him, outside of school.

It’s definitely not a conversation I am looking forward to. I can only imagine the grief I will receive. I honestly don’t want Maverick to know of the anguish I will probably, undoubtedly receive just by asking to have him over.

After school, I told Maverick I had to go straight home and that I would see him tomorrow. I didn’t need to give my dad any more ammunition or any more of a reason to say no.

As soon as I get home, I know I only have an hour before my dad will be here. I go ahead and focus on homework–one less thing to mess with, as I wait for him to come home.

The moment he steps into the house, my stomach sinks to the floor. I never have to hear his car pull in. I just always know when he’s home, almost like I have a sixth sense about it.

Time to plaster on the smile. Mentally preparing myself to speak with Dad is exhausting. I decide to gain some brownie points and help with dinner. I walk into the kitchen and spot my mom stirring whatever is in the pot. I decide to hit her up first without my dad and see where it leads.

Can’t hurt.

“So um Mom, I was wondering if I could have a friend over for dinner sometime this weekend.” She stops stirring and stares at me with a surprised look.

“What?” is all I can muster in response.

“Well, you never want to have anyone over,” she says and then she gets it. I can see it finally click. “Oh, you want to have a boy over for dinner?”

“Um, yeah.” I say, and that’s when I start rambling and trying to justify him to her. “He’s a really great guy, you would like him.” And then I proceed to go on and on. I don’t think I’m actually helping my case, but then Mom surprises me by saying, “I don’t see a problem with that at all. Your dad probably won’t like it, but he’ll get over it.”

Not going to lie, I’m a little stunned, but I’m also giddy on the inside–truly.

“Okay, when this weekend?” I ask. “He has practice on Friday, so it would have to be either Saturday or Sunday.”

“I don’t see Saturday night being a problem, Charlie. Talk to him and let me know.” Mom says.

I feel so happy, and no amount of negativity is going to kill this mood I’m in. At least, so I think….

My dad chooses that exact moment to walk in the door. I wonder what’s taken him so long to come in. “Sorry,” he says. “I was on the phone with the office. I may have to go back in later.” A little anti-climactic, but I can take that.

The exact moment we sit down to eat my mom decides to bring up Maverick coming to dinner. “We are having a guest for dinner one night this weekend. A male guest.”

Subtle, thanks Mom.

I see my dad’s eyes perk up.

Holy shit on a stick. “Oh, and who is this guy?” he asks.

I instantly start sweating profusely. My hands make their way under the table, and I’m nervously ringing them like a dish rag.

“Well, his name is Maverick, and he’s a quarterback for the football team.” Before I can go any further, my dad starts laughing at me. I feel my cheeks start to heat up, and my stomach clenching before falling to the floor.

“Why would a football player want to date you? Charlie, you are truly kidding yourself,” he chuckles.

I glance at my mom for help, but she avoids all eye contact with me as she looks down at the table.

The table. Really? I decide to speak up a little. “I don’t think I am. I really don’t. He seems to really like me.”

My dad continues laughing, “Well Charlie, I really should say no, but you know what? That’s fine. Let’s have the boy over, and you’ll see. You will see what a ridiculous fool you really are.”

I make a desperate plea to my mom.

“Mom, you don’t really think this do you? Do you think I’m a joke?”

I get nothing from her. She’s like a statue. Who does this? I know this can’t be how all parents are. They can’t. When she doesn’t answer, I stand up, deposit my plate in the kitchen and head off to my room–all the while desperately trying to hold back the tears, until I’ve made it into the safety of room.