I grunt, holding the beer up to my lips. “It happens rarely.”
“Nooooo,” she says. “The other day when we were walking on, what was it, Princes Street, there were a lot of people looking at you.”
“They were looking at you,” I tell her warmly. “My beautiful girl.” I hold out my beer and knock it against her glass. “Here’s to…”
“Meeting your folks,” she says.
I nod. “Yes. That.” I drink my beer, half of it gone immediately.
She takes forever to finish hers, so when my glass is empty, she nudges her cider toward me. “Here, I can’t finish this.”
I hesitate. Just for a moment. Just enough to maybe rein myself in. The glass is about half full and I’m already feeling swimmy. If I finish it, I know it will lead me to that place where every guilty thought I’ve ever had will magically disappear.
I want to be in that place, especially now, especially with this gorgeous, wonderful woman who I am so terribly unworthy of.
But I won’t. With effort, I shake my head, declining the drink. I get us out to the car and on our way. The wind is picking up now, pushing grey clouds in from the coast and coating everything with a fine mist. Everything is blindingly green because of it.
Jessica and Donald’s house is about three hundred years old and looks it. The stone fence outside is crumbling, a few of the larger rocks having toppled over no thanks to me and my predisposition for running along it when I was younger. The rest of the house has ivy growing up the sides, though Jessica’s garden is manicured as always, the sunflowers along the south side already waist high.
“Oh my god,” Kayla says, her hand to her chest as we pause by the iron gate. “This is like something from a movie. Is this where you grew up?”
“Aye,” I tell her. “Hasn’t changed much.”
“It’s like a fairytale.”
Something in my chest clenches. While the pub held mostly pleasantly memories, maybe because I was always in there with my mates, the house held a world of others. It was both my first real home since I had been given up for adoption, and it was also the place I felt most unworthy of. It also held the time where my life began to go tits up for no reason other than my own doing.
Christ. I should have had that cider after all.
Before I can dwell on it anymore, the front door, forever painted bright red, opens, and Jessica and Donald step out, giving us a wave.
“Lachlan,” Jessica calls to me in that sing-songy voice of hers. She’s wearing all black, believing it to be slimming even though she’s always been quite thin. Her grey hair is straight and shiny, and she’s wearing just a few sparkly jewels and what looks like little makeup. Donald looks just as dashing in his usual vest, his hands shoved down into his pockets, wearing glasses that complement his sharp eyes. My adopted parents are some of the classiest, smartest people you’ll ever meet. I often wonder how they found it in their hearts to take me in at all.
I make the introductions quickly, giving them both a hug hello before proudly showing them Kayla. “Jessica, Donald, this is Kayla,” I tell them. Even though I mentioned on the phone a few days ago that I was bringing a girl over, I don’t think they’ve quite gotten over the shock because they both look taken aback.
Finally, Jessica shakes her head. “Oh, she’s darling,” she says, and brings Kayla into a light hug. When she pulls away, she holds her by the shoulders at arm’s length and peers at her. “Where ever did you find such a lovely girl? And one that would want to come all the way here with the likes of you?” she adds, taking the piss out of me like she often does.