Heat

Growing up in the Shire

We arrive at mum and dad’s and I’m suddenly feeling butterflies bubbling in my stomach.

The thing is this is the first time I’ve ever brought a “boyfriend“ (yeah I’m coming around to calling him that) to dinner at my parents place. It’s not that I’ve actively avoided it (okay there are a couple I wouldn’t have wanted mum and dad to meet................ever) but it’s mostly been circumstance. I just didn’t have boyfriends when I was living here. Sure I’d had the odd fumble with a local farm-boy who my parents had known all his life – and who now lived down Ridge Road with a young family. But other than that, I was a late bloomer and so most of the guys I’d dated had been at uni in Brisbane or studying in Sydney or living in London. Not that they hadn’t seen one or two along the way. In fact they saw waaay too much of my first boyfriend Adam–the much-pierced, punk, emo, artist who only answered to the name Cobain, wore black and was so pretentious that he thought no one could teach him anything – I believe he’s selling real estate on the Gold Coast now.

 My parents learned the hard way that they needed to ring their bohemian artist daughter instead of turning up at my share house in Brisbane unannounced. I’m still getting over the trauma of my dad and Dave bursting into my room (courtesy of a ditsy, stoned flatmate) with a chest of drawers to find “Cobain” with his lips on my chest and his hands in my draws.

They had dinner with my cricketer and his parents once in Sydney but his mum and dad had a stand-up fight 20 minutes into the meal and stormed out.

So you can see why I’m nervous – these things don’t go well for me. And yes I know he’s been practically been adopted by mother but this is us as a couple, having dinner with the other couples in my family (well other than Scott and Stuart). His status has changed considerably in just a day.

This is me sitting at the big girl table, being an adult. This is damned near a rites of passage moment.

Tom smiles at me and takes my hand as we make our way up the stairs, tangling his fingers in mine while I balance my salad dish in the other hand and he carries a bottle of white wine we picked up on the way through. We trail behind Dave and Trish who are already going through the door when we make it to the top of the stairs. He squeezes my hand.

“Ready?” he asks and I stop and take a deep breath before I nod.

“As I’ll ever be!!” I whisper.

Inside Mum is in the kitchen with Di and Trish while Derek and Dave are in the fridge loading it with beers and wine – Tom joins them and suddenly there are three men discussing wine and beer around my parent’s fridge. All three are over six foot and tower over my mother, Di and Trish who are also in the kitchen. It looks like something out of the Hobbit with three wizards working on potions while the Hobbits discuss the finer points of cooking. I try not to laugh.  I actually didn’t think the kitchen was big enough for six people – it’s open plan but I didn’t think it was THAT open plan.

I leave the Hobbit An Unexpected Dinner and wander out to my dad who is busy at the barbecue. He looks a little tired after the adventures of the past few days but he has a warm welcoming smile as I come up and hug him.

“My little Megsy, how is the world treating you?” he asks and I laugh. This is dad’s way of fishing for information. He is not as direct as mum who would just ask me outright.

“Can’t complain,” I say kissing his cheek not playing his game and making him work a little harder for information but this is dad – a man of few words.

“I’ve never seen you look happier that boy must be doing something right!” he drawls taking a swig of the beer he has stationed within easy reach of the barbecue.