still ill • michael gray

Chapter 17

I watch New York fade into the distance as we begin our journey to his homeland.

"I can't believe this is happening," he murmurs into my neck while his arms snake around my waist.

I continue to gaze out the window of our suite on the ocean liner, "Neither can I."

"In a week you and I will be in Birmingham."

"And in a month," I smirk, "you and I will be on the French Riviera ringing in the New Year."

🌆🌆🌆

The instant I step onto the train platform, the smell of smoke fills my nose. Today is the day. The day that could ultimately, change my life forever. The day I meet his family.

His arm tightens around my waist as we get further from the train, but I welcome the closeness given how cold it is out. Even all the furs I'm wearing can't keep me completely warm.

He wrinkles his nose and grimaces, "It still fucking stinks here."

"You know, it isn't that much smellier than New York," I smile.

"Except it's worse than New York, you can at least acknowledge that."

"Just be happy you're home," I rub my hands together, "it is freezing here though."

"It isn't that much colder than New York, Bea," he laughs.

"Fuck off," I elbow him. "So are people going to be waiting for us or something?"

"They should be..." he looks around the station. "Why don't you stay here with the luggage, and I'll go make a phone call, I'm sure they're on their way," he wrings his hands anxiously, "Just stay put, they're probably looking around for us."

I take his wrist before he can walk away, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he tries to walk away again, but I don't let go.

"They wouldn't just leave us here at the station without a welcome, Michael. This is your mother we're talking about, you don't need to worry."

"Can I—can I please just make the call? I'll be right back," he pulls away from me, but he doesn't make it far before running into a young man that looks about his age. Immediately his face lights up. He hugs the other young man. "Isaiah! Where is everyone?"

"They're all looking for you, mate, and this must be the lovely Beatrice that I've heard so much about," he takes my hand and kisses the back of it.

"I wouldn't say lovely," I smile, "but I suppose you may call me Bea if you wish."

"Everyone's dying to meet you."

"I have no idea why," Michael picks up some of our bags, takes my hand, and then looks back to his friend, "Oi, help me with this shit," he points to the other bags. "Is Mum here?"

"Oh course she's here," Isaiah says, clapping him on the back, "I'm telling you, everyone's here, they all want to meet the lady. I just happened to be the one who caught you first."

Michael leads me out of the station, and a car, along with a whole crowd of people, waits for us. I finally get a chance to look his mother in the eyes. She observes me just as I observe her.