Unanticipatedly [2]

(Ron)

When mom finally parks in front of the peachy coloured flat down the suburban side street, I find myself being nervous. I turn to look one last time into the backseat –at Reed, who’s fast asleep. Olivia opens the front door. She waves at me with a toothy grin and I wave back, exhaling with a laugh. I grab my bag and leave the car. Olivia walks up to greet me, her mom peeking out of the front door and then trailing behind her. I give Olivia a fist bump, and she leans down to look at my mum through the car window.

“Evening, Mrs Hoffman,” she greets, looking into the backseat at Reed. She smiles brightly. “Is that Reed?”

I smile so hard my dimple sinks in. “Yea,” I laugh, “Just got back from a doctor’s visit. He’s out like a light!”

“Good evening, Olivia. It’s nice to meet you,” mom says. Olivia’s mom comes to the car, giving me a polite smile before speaking with my mother. “And you must be the Mrs,” mom adds.

“Blessed evening,” Mrs Prescott says, before chuckling. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them both.”

Mom nods with a smile. “Thanks,” she says, turning to me. “Ron, honey, I’ll see you later, okay?”

She kisses her hand and waves it through the window. I grab the air kiss and hold it tightly for a few moments.

“Later, mom,” I say.

She starts the engine, saying, “I love you! Behave!” She laughs, driving off.

We wait until she’s disappeared before walking into the house. Mrs Prescott has a broad smile plastered over her face but radiates with a superior sense of intimidation that makes me feel slightly queasy.

Why am I nervous?

Olivia’s house is cosy. The walls are painted in monochromatic tones of blue. There’s a painting of the disciples over the entrance to the kitchen. There’s a crucifix over the entrance of the dining room. There’s a bookshelf stacked with more Christian books than anything else –and I get the feeling that Olivia isn’t quite the reader. There’s a soft gospel track playing from some small radio, somewhere. It’s a typical, comfortable family home.

Mrs Prescott leads us to the living room.

I sit on the large white couch and rest my bag down beside me. Olivia sits cross-legged next to me, turned in my direction.

“Would you like anything, Ron?” Mrs Prescott asks. “A drink? A snack?” She turns to her daughter, “Olivia?”

“I’m okay for now. Thank you,” I reply.

I’d eaten before leaving home. Mom wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Get the script, I’ve got mine upstairs, I’ll be right back,” Olivia tells me, turning to her mom. “I’m okay. I’ll probably get some chips in a minute.”

Before I could say anything else, Olivia is running barefooted, up the staircase –skipping some steps as she goes- and disappearing around a bend. I wait for a few minutes, pulling my script from my bag and tapping on the cover.

I may not know this play line for line, but I have a pretty good idea of the contents. I’m disappointed that they chose to edit the plot –probably just as disappointed as Malory, but there’s not much that can be done about that now, is there?

I remember laughing til’ my stomach hurt after reading the kiss scene. As if having Malory and Kyle as the leads wasn’t going to be entertaining enough, we all had some extra chaos to look forward to watching them try to re-enact that.

I’m more worried about how Olivia and I will practice that.

Do her parents even know about that scene?

Olivia returns and sloppily drops herself onto the couch, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Okay,” she says, opening a huge bag of chips and offering me a smile, “Let’s begin.”