My ParentsMature

Cerice

“You were quite lucky if I may add,” Oscar told me as he was driving me to my aunt’s home. Her car had suffered of an accident just minutes before setting off to the airport, that’s why I had asked Oscar to take us both to the airport. His old truck rattled with every bump it ran over, I just hoped this junk car could make it safely to the airport. The interior was wide enough the transport five people and suitcases in the back. “My friend repaired my car a week ago and the engine runs like brand new!”

“Is your friend a mechanic?” I asked as the engine roared feebly and churned, the hood of the car was bobbling slightly.

“Of course!” Oscar scoffed. “Well, almost, he is a sophomore studying mechanical engineer.”

“Jesus,” I muttered in disbelief, “is this good to travel more than two miles?”

“More than that!” Oscar exclaimed proudly. “My ol’ friend was a gift from my great grandfather; it has belonged to the family far for far too long.”  

“Yeah, I can totally see that,” I said sarcastically.

“I saw you with Sasha today.”

“Are you spying on me or what?” I asked irritated. Sasha was the last thing I wanted to think of, thinking of her made me feel miserable because we will be separated for the entire week. Why had my parents decided to come?!

“I just thought you might need some help,” Oscar offered, “you know, a fake boyfriend to cover up for you whenever you want to go out with her without your parents worrying about you.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “are you up to the job?”

He cleared his throat and blushed, “well, judging the situation, I suppose you haven’t told your parents about your sexual inclinations and I am sure you won’t tell them any time soon. I certainly can do that favour to you seeing that we are friends.”

I laughed.  “Thanks for your concern and suggestion Oscar, but both of us know how bad it went when I tried to have a fake boyfriend.”

“Yeah, the jerk tried to have a way with you,” Oscar replied. “Well, I was just saying.”

“Perhaps you should meet Sasha,” I suggested, “I will feel more comfortable in knowing that it isn’t just a badly kept secret what’s going on between us. She will be happy to know that at least I confided in a friend that accepted my relationship with her.”

“I am the only one who accepts it because I am the only one who knows,” Oscar said, “that is different.” We pulled into my aunt’s driveway and I saw her face filled with anxiety and nervousness as the car rattled to a stop.

The Canberra International Airport was a busy airport, receiving many visitors from across the globe. We waited in the line for the international arrivals. My aunt was excited to see her sister and I was anxious and frightful of seeing my parents.

Finally they appeared, both walking in regal manner with their blonde hair perfectly combed back.

“Are they your parents?” Oscar whispered, “They look like millionaires.”

“Sometimes what you see is what really is,” I muttered back and forced a smile as they approached.

“Cerice, my dear daughter!” my mother exclaimed in broken English, she spread her toned arms and embraced me, her perfume filling my nostrils. She rubbed my back and kissed me multiple times.

Maman l'arrêter, les gens nous regardent,” I said curtly, gently pushing her arms away.

“We are in Australia deary, we should talk in English,” she smiled and pinch my cheek. “Have you been eating properly? You have thinned and paled since the last time we’ve seen you, doesn’t she Laurence?”

“Stop nagging her Berdine, she looks fine,” my father said with disinterest. “How are your classes Cerice? Do you like it so far?”

“Yes père,” I said obligingly.

“Let us make haste then, let’s take you to my house so you can settle,” my aunt said.

“Who is the gentleman?” my father asked, scrutinizing Oscar.

“He is a friend,” I introduced them; “he is driving us to my aunt’s house and then back to the university.”

“A friend!” my mother exclaimed, “I am so glad my daughter has already made some friends, you see, she is shy and would rather be alone that in company.”

“Let’s go,” I sighed and pushed the luggage cart toward the parking lot.

“Tell me son, what car brand name and year do you drive?” my father asked interested.

“Well sir, the brand name is out of question, but this car has been with the family for more than a century and runs smoothly,” Oscar boasted.

“Ahh a classic I suppose,” my father’s jaw dropped opened when he saw Oscar loading the luggage to the trunk. “A very old fashioned classic.”

The drive toward my aunt home was a bombardment of questions, I felt smothered once again.  They wanted to know every detail of my life since I arrived, my answers were short. My aunt recommended me should all go out to dine tomorrow after class when her car is repaired. My parents quite agreed and asked Oscar to join them. I shot him a deadly glance.

“I’d love too, Mr. and Mrs. Clairoux,” he stammered, “but I have homework to catch up.”

My father praised him. Finally we arrived to my aunt’s house and I bid them farewell, telling them I looked forward to tomorrow. Oscar drove us away.

“Your parents are cool,” he said.

“They are all yours if you want them,” I said, texting Sasha.

----Hey there, my parents are here. They haven’t changed. Same pain in the arse. I already miss you. ---

“Texting her?”

“She is the only thing that keeps me happy away from insanity,” I responded, looking out the window. I wondered if I would muster enough courage to tell my parents.

The End

118 comments about this exercise Feed