“And you, Henry? We would love to get to know you a little better,” my mother says.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, just under my breath.
“Did you say something, honey?” she asks me with an innocent expression on her face.
“I'll be there, Mrs. Tate,” Henry says. “It has been a pleasure to meet you both.”
12
Henry
The night at the yacht was magical up until the very end. That was not the ideal way to meet someone's parents, let alone a girl who I am falling in love with.
Did I really just think this?
Did this thought actually cross my mind? I look in my closet, for something decent to wear to tonight's dinner.
Aurora insisted that her parents are not going to bring up what happened last night, not because they are okay with it, but because it would be indecent of them to do so.
I'm not sure if I am supposed to take this as a good thing or a bad thing. For now, I'll just take it as it is.
So far, I have made a terrible first impression, and perhaps tonight's dinner is a way for me to make up for it. I enlist my mother’s help in assisting me in choosing my outfit.
It’s not much of a choice though. I only own two suits, both of which I wore to funerals. One is too big, because it was on sale and I couldn't afford the alteration fee, and the other is slightly too small.
My mother, who has never been very good with the needle, offers to help me alter the one that is too big. She goes through a few YouTube videos but quickly realizes that the job is too complicated for a novice like her.
“I guess I'll just wear it as it is,” I say. “What else can I do?”
“You could wear something else underneath it,” she suggests. “To help fill it out?”
“Yeah,” I say, “I guess I could do that. Though it is a little bit odd to wear a long sleeve shirt underneath a dress shirt. I think I'll just go with how it is and maybe take off the jacket if the evening calls for it.”
“Don't be nervous, sweetie,” my mom says. “I'm sure they're going to love you.”
I give her a faint smile. I am certain that they will not, but I do not want to go into it right now.
Besides, it's not like I can tell her the embarrassing position in which they found both of us. We’re very close, but she’s still my mother.
"So, what do you think about Aurora?” I ask, taking a sip of a beer to calm my nerves.
“She seems like a very nice girl. But I do worry about the world that she lives in.”
Even though my mom didn't recognize her at first, I have since filled her in on exactly what kind of family Aurora is from.
When I get to dinner, Aurora's mother opens the door and welcomes me inside. Mr. Tate offers me a drink and I opt to have the same thing that he's having, scotch on the rocks.
The scotch is served out of a crystal decanter, so I don't know exactly what brand it is, but by the way it tastes, I can tell that it is very expensive.
The dark brown liquid is smooth to the taste, warming me from the inside out. I take another sip and feel a shot of liquid courage coursing through my veins.
Aurora comes into the room, dressed in a pristine black cocktail dress and high heels. Her hair is pulled up halfway and there are pearl earrings dangling off her ears.
She gives me a brief hug and a chaste peck on the cheek, the kind you give a cousin. Of course, I don't expect more. Her parents are here and I want to make a better impression than I had before.
A woman in her fifties with her hair in a bun and a thick Spanish accent walks up to us with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. She is dressed in a gray and white frock, clearly delineating her as one of the help.
When I extend my hand to introduce myself, she stares at me with big wide eyes without moving a muscle.
“Why don’t you tell us about what you do for a living?” Mrs. Tate asks, taking an appetizer and leading me back to the sofa.
“I work in a high school in the Bronx, a charter school that focuses on underprivileged children,” I explain.
“Isn't everyone there underprivileged?” Mr. Tate asks.
I'm not sure if he is trying to be funny or ironic and I don’t know how to respond.
“Well, almost everyone is in comparison to you,” I point out.
Mrs. Tate glares at me for a moment and then Aurora breaks out laughing.
I'm tempted to apologize, but I don't see why I have to. What I said is the truth. He's a billionaire and compared to him everyone has less privilege.
"Most of the students,” I say, “do not grow up in an environment that is particularly conducive to learning. They often live in very cramped apartments, with multiple siblings, sharing one room among many of them. As a result, they do not have a quiet place to study. Also, their parents, if they do have both in the house, work too many hours to help them with homework or any projects. It's an uphill battle for teachers like us.”
“So, is this something you plan on doing for a long time?” Mrs. Tate asks.
I swallow hard.
I should lie and nod and tell her that it is something that I want to do for the rest of my life. Partly because it's probably something I'm going to get stuck doing for the rest of my life. However, if this is the only time that I get to interact with Aurora's parents, I don't want that interaction to be false.
So, against my better judgment, I tell her the truth.
“Actually, no,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
She perks up a little bit and sits on the edge of her seat.
My eyes briefly meet with Aurora's who furrows her eyebrows and looks at me with a confused look on her face.
“The truth is that I want to be a writer," I say slowly. “In fact, I already am. I have recently had a short story published in the New Yorker. I enjoy writing very much and it's a real calling of mine. Unfortunately, up until this point I have not been able to make a living at it so I took the only job that I got offered after college, teaching.”
Mr. and Mrs. Tate seem to be taken aback by my honesty because they do not say anything in response for a few moments.
Afterward, Mr. Tate offers to refresh my drink and Mrs. Tate asks me more about my teaching position. Aurora mentions that her mom sits on the board of a few charter schools in Manhattan. We talk about that for a while but it does not go unnoticed that they do not ask me anymore about my writing.
Later that evening, after dinner is served, Mr. Tate asks me where I see myself in five years. This is a hard one to answer, and I simply shrug my shoulders and raise my hands in the air.
“You really don't know?” Mr. Tate asks. He wears his thick flowing hair just below his jawline, a little bit longer than you would expect.
He and Aurora’s mom look so similar they could practically be related, and yet Aurora looks nothing like them. While they are both tall and broad shouldered, Aurora is short and a lot curvier than her mother.
While they have high cheekbones and thin aristocratic noses, Aurora's face is wider and a bit flatter. Nevertheless, she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, but I cannot deny the fact that she looks nothing like her parents.