With that, she leaves me with my beeping phone. I’m baffled at how cool she’s acting. Heck, it’s a lot better than I would be I imagine. Glancing downward, my stomach flutters with butterflies, knowing it’s Micah texting me.

Micah: Pretty girl, all is well with Liza. Had a long talk. Missing you terribly. Need to see you, hold you, preferably all night long. This time, I’m not leaving. It’s Saturday, let me bring you dinner, and we can watch a movie or talk. So much, we need to discuss. Don’t say NO… you know you want to. Only YES, Elsa.

On cloud nine, I’m smugly shaking my head to text him back.

Me: Sounds Great, look forward to it. Going to stop by my parents today and set some things straight. Bring alcohol. I might need it. LOL

Two seconds later.

Micah: Want me to go with you?

Oh hell!

Me: NO! I need to do this alone. Long over due… trust ME!

Micah: Are you sure baby? I don’t want you to get upset… NO MORE!

Me: I’m sure, but thanks. After a few nights with me, you might want to leave again (just kidding) XXOO

Micah: Not funny, Elsa! Never. I want you always. Let me know when you’re done. I mean it. Not a minute later, that way I can be on my way to you. You know nothing about me anymore. Need to catch you up.

Me: Yes, you are a bit of a mystery to me. Like where do you work? What are your favorite things? How are your parents?WOW… lots.

Micah: Hey, no worries. We have time, baby.

Me: Yes, we do. Okay. Off to get this over with. Wish me luck!

Micah: Be careful, luv you pretty girl

Me: Um… thanks. Luv you too <3

Driving to my parents, my stomach’s in knots. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say to them. Calling them beforehand was a good idea since my dad had a golf date scheduled. Thankfully he canceled since he knew I was coming. Gripping the steering wheel, I’m playing out my conversation with them in my head.

I want to shout, yell, scream, and holler. But knowing that none of that will help, I need to find a way not to get that upset. My mom asked me over and over why the urgency when I called, but I gave her no indication the reason for my visit. If I gave them an idea as to why I want to see them, they would use the time it takes me to get there to formulate a defense, it’s what they do.

Pulling into the driveway, all of my anger I had bottled up ready to unleash on them is slowly wavering. Sitting in my car, looking at the white two story house, I feel like I’m the girl back in high school. Thirty minutes ago I couldn’t wait to get here, right now I’m dying to leave. Slamming my car door, I’m somewhat choked up knowing how differently things could have been if my parents would have just told me Micah or even Matt came to see me. All my heartache, all my pain, and yet, they said nothing. Angrily, I’m biting back tears. More upset than ever for what grief they put me through. Mentally cursing them, I unintentionally slam the front door and I’m engulfed with the smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee. Yep, my mom, is pulling out all the stops today. My two favorite things. Question is, why on earth did she make them? Perhaps her way of bribing me in some way. Well, the only thing it does it make me more upset. Maybe she was already knows my visit was going to be less than pleasant.

Mom comes around the corner of the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear, and pulls me into an embrace. She’s a few inches taller than me, but we do resemble one another. Same hair and eye color, even the round shape of our faces. Looking at her I can get the idea how I’ll look when I’m older.

“Hello mother, how are you?” I say placing a timid pat on her back. She’s tense, because we normally aren’t a touchy-feely family. That all changed when I was sixteen.

She’s rubbing my back, giddy as ever. “I’m so happy you came home for a visit.” She’s pointing to the counter. “Got coffee and cinnamon rolls just for you.”

Her over joyous welcome is a nice touch, but it’s not her usual style. Yep, she knows something is up.

“Well, there she is.” My dad says sweetly, walking in behind me. My dad is a tall, thin man. He’s aged well. Both my parents are in their sixties, but for the most part are in decent health. He’s not built by any means, just in good shape.

Turning my head around, I’m not sure if I want to cry or smile. “Dad.” I don’t say more than that, and he takes notice.

Tilting his head, he draws me against him. “I’m better now that you are here. You don’t stop by much anymore.” The slight hesitant pause he had before he spoke was odd. The fact I never asked him how he was is another odd thing.

I wonder why!

This small talk goes on for some time. We sip our coffee, nibble on the cinnamon rolls, but time for small talk is closing… quickly.

“Um, I need to speak with you both about something. Some of which, you may not want to talk about.” My eyes go between them waiting to see any emotion from them.

My dad's eyebrows arch and my mother stares at her coffee, but her eyes twitch a few times.

“Okay,” his word lingers as his eyes show slight concern. He starts tapping his finger against his coffee cup.

“Why did you never tell me that Matt or Micah came to see me? That they talked with you, why not tell me? Why lie?” I keep my questions coming not even waiting for an answer.

My dad’s face reddens; he’s not happy or prepared. Accusingly, he keeps his glare on me. “What lie? I told you no lies, I call it watching out for your best interests. Like always. I’ve done it before and will do it again if need be.” He said that so fast and matter of fact, it’s like he’s rehearsed it before hand.

Damn, he’s not pulling any punches.

Tearing my eyes from him, I ponder what my dear mother might add to this conversation. She’s tight-lipped. I’m staring at her and like always she’s avoiding me.

“Mother, what do you have to say?” My eyes stare intently on her twitching face. She’s trying to control her emotions, like an actress.

Sipping her coffee she seems totally relaxed. She adds a soft smile nodding her head. Finally she settles her eyes with mine. “Elsa, we do what we need to do. It’s as easy as that,” she politely says, straightening her posture. “That boy has been nothing but trouble for you.”

With that, she’s back to sipping her coffee. The only thing I want to do is go over and slap the cup from her hands. That might help me keep her attention for once. Like always, they think they know best.

“Like hell,” I accuse. “You want to control my life. I’m an adult for Christ’s sakes.”

My dad doesn’t even pause; he’s on his feet in an instant. “Like back when you were sixteen? Come on Elsa, this boy is no good.” His finger is in my face when he shouts.

I mimic his standing position with my own finger pointing at him. “Who the hell gives you the right to tell me who I can and cannot see?”

“Obviously, we need to. Seems the only choice you can make is a poor one. Do you know the embarrassment we felt? Our sixteen-year-old pregnant daughter. Do you Elsa? Put yourself in our shoes for once?”

I’m rendered speechless. There is no talking with these people. They don’t get it, never did. Why I thought I could reason with them was a big mistake. I can’t do this anymore, I don’t need their approval. Not sure why, or what I even hoped I would accomplish with them, but whatever it was, I’m not going to get it. I know if I told them Micah was in my life again, it would throw them for a loop.