See You on the Other Side | ✓

35 | You Don't Know Me

"Wait, they don't love you like I love you." - Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Keaton Henson Cover), Maps

~~~

When I arrived at Avery's house, I'd calmed down by a substantial margin. As per usual, the walk up to her front door changed that. I knocked on it, pounding the door in a friendly pattern. I didn't want to sound like I was the FBI.

The door unlocked, revealing the stature of Avery's dad. After seeing him a couple of times, I got used to his height and build. He became less threatening. Who knew that under those layers of muscle, there were a plethora of dad jokes?

"Sup, Adrian," he greeted.

"Nothing much, Mr. Jenkins," I grinned, walking inside. Avery's dad closed the door behind him and locked it. Like the first time that I'd come to Avery's house, I observed what the house had to offer.

"Like what we've done with the place?" He asked, taking notice of my trespassing eye. "The furniture has been shifted a little and Avery cleaned. A clean house really does make a difference."

"Where's Avery now?"

"She's in the living room."

I walked over, the sound of the TV growing louder. It turns out that Avery was standing in the kitchen, right next to the woman I was yet to meet.

Once I saw her mom, I realized that she looked slightly familiar. Maybe I saw her at the grocery or the mall, I thought. That conclusion became unlikely when I thought about the likelihood of remembering a random person's face. Then, it hit me.

She was at my grandfather's funeral. She heard my vile eulogy of disapproval. She heard me deface my guardian's reputation immensely and ruthlessly. When she looked at me, it was obvious that she knew who I was, but she didn't make it obvious. She must not have remembered my eulogy because she didn't look disapproving.

"Hello, Adrian," she greeted. "Nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand and I shook it, attempting to prove that I was amicable.

"Likewise, Mrs. Jenkins."

"I'm afraid my last name is Matthews and do you like chicken, Adrian?" She asked, her eyes still dissecting me. "It's what's for dinner."

"Y-yeah, I love it."

"Good," she stated. Her tone reminded me of a psychologically demented serial killer. She was monotone and stern.

She turned around and walked over to the stove. I could tell she was the martinet of the house. When she walked in, the mood of the room shifted. You could just tell she wasn't one to let the household slack off. What she said went.

Avery grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the living room. She looked up at me, troubled. "Is she stressing you out?" she whispered.

"No, why?"

"You're stuttering, dude. You never stutter."

"N-no. I'm not," I stammered. I inhaled and exhaled deeply to try and piece my thoughts together. It wasn't working very much. I kept looking back at the kitchen and Avery took notice.

My girlfriend cupped my face, forcing me to look at her again. "Seriously," she insisted, reaching up to kiss my jawline. "She's not even important. What's important is you and me."

"I know, but I can't help it. She's close to you. I don't want to come between you and your family."

"You're not going to, don't worry. My dad likes you. He talks about you all the time. My mom isn't important." Although I didn't believe all that she was saying, I felt myself beginning to trust what she was saying. "Believe me, babe."