Sean
I am late again – as usual – and I know Mary will be less than pleased. It’s true, she did ask me to be home in time tonight, because she wanted to go to that party. I insist on having at least the evening meal together as a family, and she hasn’t denied me that up till now. But it’s only a matter of time, I guess.
Thing is, I am not able to just leave my office at any given time. I am quite a successful solicitor, and I am pretty much in demand nowadays. But that can change in a day. If I want to keep things going, I will have to be available whenever my well paying clients need me. Mary – of all people - should understand. She’s always buying stuff, new clothes, new shoes, jewellery. She never stops. Still she nags about me coming home late.
For a while I stay where I am, in my car inside the garage and rest my head on the steering wheel. I don’t feel like going into the house, to be greeted in icy silence, or get chastised by Mary’s sharp tongue,
More than a thousand times I’ve wondered why I don’t get the fuck out of here, out of this marriage and out of this house, that is so much more Mary’s house than mine.
But of course I know the answer: Lucy. My daughter is the only reason I am staying right where I am, and have stayed for years now. I love my kid, and I want to give her everything I can, including a good background, with a loving father and mother.
We have always had a special thing, my girl and I, and I think I was the most important person in her life -until she met this boy, Blake.
I know I can’t keep her from having a boyfriend, even from one as strange as this Blake. She’s 18, and moving away from me more and more each day, determined to show me she can take care of herself.
Well, as long as she’s still at school, and living under my roof, she will have to stick to the rules. So that means not staying out late on week days, no Blake or any other boyfriend staying in her room for longer than 15 minutes.
But ever since she met this boy, she defies me on every single rule I set. This Blake is in the same class, he’s 18 just like her, and they hang out together all day, and almost every evening too. I don’t like the kid. He’s strange, with interests that make me wonder what kind of a family he comes from.
But if I am honest I know no boy would be good enough for Lucy, and they all mean potential danger. I know, because I was once young like that. Thinking about my wild youth – and yes, wild it was – can fill me sometimes with bittersweet nostalgia. There’s a lot of that stuff better buried and forgotten, though, and I have managed to do that for years.
But somehow, it’s coming back more and more lately, and it makes me grumpy.
I finally pull myself together and step out of the car. Mary is sitting at the kitchen table when I step in through the back door. She doesn’t look up and hardly replies to my greeting. I walk upstairs and change my suit for more comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt, then go down for dinner. When I get down Mary is still sitting at the table. She doesn’t say a word, but her body tells me all I need to know.
I hesitate, and then lay a hand on her arm, which she shakes off as if it’s a snake.
“I am sorry I am late Mary, but Pete came round and... “
“I don’t want to hear it Sean,” she interrupts me. “Just sit down so we can eat dinner.”
“Where’s Lucy? Shouldn’t we wait for her,” I ask?
This time she looks me full in the eye.
“She’s over at Blake’s house. She’s having dinner there, so they can do their homework together.”
“Homework, my arse, “I shout, and jump up.
“Sean, think of the neighbours, please!”
“Neighbours, my arse,” I shout again. “How could you allow that Mary?”
“There’s no question of allowing, Sean, Lucy just told me. And you know what? She’s right.”
She stands up to serve dinner, and we eat in silence. I don’t even taste the food. My thoughts are with my girl, and that little freak putting his filthy hands on her.
How I would love to wring his neck.
Then Mary drops her bomb.
“I am planning to ask Blake’s parents for a nice dinner on Saturday night, Sean. Lucy and Blake have been dating for quite some time now, and I think it would be nice if we were to get acquainted.”
Viggo
I cycle home from the University in the rain, enjoying the sensation of the cold, crystal drops on my face and shaking my head from time to time to clear them from my hair.
Spray from the occasional passing car drenches my jeans, but it’s late and past rush hour, so there is not much traffic about. Anyhow, I have always liked being out in the elements, rain, wind or snow and I love a good thunderstorm. It reminds you that you are alive, like swimming in the ocean and diving into powerful waves.
I seem to be working later and later at the University these days, putting off coming home.
Since I took this three year contract in the UK, now ending its second year, home has been a rambling Victorian family house a couple of miles from campus. Chris, Blake and I have plenty of personal space and I have the attic as my studio.
I married Chris 18 years ago, when she was pregnant with my son. We were living in a bohemian, artists’ community, pretty much a commune, really, in California.
She was a musician and songwriter and I was a poet and artist in those days. Well, we still are, I guess, but once Blake arrived, I had to take care of them both. I had a good degree and got a “regular” job teaching.
Relationships in those days were free and casual. I had known since high school that I swung both ways and there had been men as well as women in my life. When I learnt that Blake was on the way, I had been with Chris for a few months. I loved her and found her inspirational. She had a way of encouraging other people to develop their talents and collected around her a group of writers, artists and musicians.
I had no hesitation in asking her to marry me, I was and still am, determined to be the best father possible and I wanted to do it right from the start. My parents had divorced acrimoniously, when I was a kid and I had a very edgy relationship with my own dad. I never, ever wanted Blake to feel what I had felt. I wanted him to know that his dad was always there for him.
So we married and I went to work, but although the birth of my son was the most incredible thing that ever happened to me, the relationship with Chris soon faltered.
Sure, we have stayed married and I have been faithful to her and sure, we have always let Blake know that we both love him and he is more important to us than anything in the world, but in many ways, we have drifted apart. I think she believes I sold out, getting a job and conforming. She is still a free spirit with the soul of a bohemian and she has not always been faithful to me.
I arrive home and put my bike into the shed, entering the house through the back door, into the big kitchen. Apart from my studio, this is my favourite room in the house. It has a big Aga stove, with several cats sleeping around it and our dog, Bella, in her basket. She leaps up to greet me and lick me senseless.
There is a pot of chilli on the Aga, which smells great and the scent of fresh-baked bread makes my mouth water.
I smile as I turn to the table, where Blake and his girlfriend, Lucy are sitting amid text books and notebooks. Lucy is a sweet kid and very good for Blake.
Did I mention that I am very proud of my son? He is a great guy, very mature and self-assured for any age, let alone a teenager. He is clever too, plus he is also a talented musician, artist and writer. And he’s kind and considerate. Seems to have picked up the best genes from both of us. No wonder Lucy likes him so much. Unbiased as I am, I think he’s quite a catch!
“Where’s mom?” I ask, as they greet me.
Blake exchanges a glance with Lucy and I notice her hand slide over and squeeze his encouragingly.
“She had to go out, dad. She baked bread and she’s left chilli. She said she might be real late, so we should eat.”
I sigh as I go shower and put on dry clothes. Both Blake and I could hazard a guess as to where she’s gone. This time, I don’t think it’s casual. Blake will be going to University this fall and probably, Chris and I need to talk about the future. I run downstairs to eat with the kids.
Chris came home in the early hours of the morning and I pretended to be asleep, fooling neither of us.
Over breakfast, we talk about our plans for the day and avoid touching on anything really important. When the phone rings, Chris goes to answer it and I hear her switch on her social voice.
She comes back into the kitchen thoughtfully and tells me that it was Lucy’s mom, inviting us to dinner on Saturday.
I guess we’ll be going and playing Happy Families, then. I wouldn’t want anything to come between Blake and his first love.
Sean
I don’t like the idea of this dinner. It feels like there’s something definite about Lucy and this Blake. On the other hand, perhaps if I can have a talk from man to man with the kid’s father, we might be able to get this whole thing more in hand.
Mary says Blake’s father is a University lecturer, which at least sounds respectable, and I agree reluctantly on having them for dinner.
Lucy is far too late and I pace the living room, waiting anxiously for her to come home. Mary has left for her party, and seemed almost relieved when I said I didn’t want to go with her. The clock seems to crawl, and still there’s no Lucy.
Vivid images of her being injured, or worse, go through my head and I am about to grab my coat and go look for her, when I hear the key in the front door. I open the door to the hall and there she is, her face flushed. They must have been kissing frantically, judging by the way she looks. Well, at least he brings her home, but perhaps that’s just because she knows I would come to pick her up if he didn’t. Relief to see her alive and well soon dissipates into anger, when she doesn’t even bother to come in, just mumbles a greeting and runs up the stairs to her room.
I wince when I think about only a year ago, how she would throw herself upon me when I got home at night, happy and excited to see me. How she kissed me on the top of my head before going to bed, making me feel like a millionaire. When did I suddenly become the enemy? What happened?
I suppress the urge to run after her, knowing all too well it will end in a scene if I do that. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, I decide, make clear that she still has to respect my rules, or else.
I walk upstairs slowly, I am tired and I need to sleep. The lights in her room are still on, and I can hear the faint noises of her computer keyboard. Probably chatting with one of her girlfriends.
I am having breakfast in the kitchen next morning - Mary is still in bed after coming home in the early hours - when Lucy comes in. Her blond hair still damp from the shower, wearing her pink bathrobe, she looks young and beautiful, and I smile at her.
She smiles back hesitatingly, obviously relieved I am not chiding her for last night. ‘Time enough for that later,’ I think, enjoying the moment.
“Got a kiss to spare for your old Dad?” I ask, and even though she rolls her eyes she bends over and pecks my cheek lightly.
She sits down and nibbles her toast and we manage to keep something like a conversation going. The moment she announces she’s going out with Blake again tonight the fragile peace is over, and we end up shouting at each other. Fuck.
The rest of the week goes by slowly until Saturday is here. I went back to the office, to deal with some of the work that has been piling up. Mary has been busy from early this morning with arranging and cooking dinner.
We will probably eat something with a long French name, but it’s fine with me, even though I can sometimes long for something ordinary, something like a chip butty, a reminder of my Northern upbringing. But that’s not likely to be on the menu.
When I get home I read the paper, until Mary urges me to go shower and dress. She’s put the clothes I am supposed to wear on the bed, and I grimace when I look at the impeccable grey suit, the crisp white shirt, and the grey silk tie. Saturday nights are for jeans normally, but not tonight.
I am determined to speak my mind to Blake’s parents, and I do hope they agree with my point of view, so I want to give them a good impression. The kids are both too young, they need to concentrate on school, and I have high hopes with Blake’s Dad being a teacher, that he will agree.
That hope flies out the window the moment they enter the house. Blake’s parents seem to be nothing but a pair of hippies. She is wearing a short floral printed dress, showing a considerable part of her legs. And him.. I don’t think he has had a haircut in a year perhaps, and he is wearing a faded tee and faded jeans.
Even Mary’s smooth composure cracks a little when the guy (“Hi, I am Viggo, and this is Chris”) toes off his shoes, and walks into our living room on his bare feet. No wonder that kid is strange!
Viggo
Chris and I stroll round to Lucy’s place, which is not far from our own house. We do have a small car, but rarely use it, preferring to walk or cycle. It’s a fine evening and it means we can relax and have a drink.
As we leave, we pass Lucy on the way in to spend the evening with Blake. As it’s Saturday night, they are not planning on homework. They are writing songs together, with Blake on the guitar and Lucy on the piano, as he is trying to get a band together.
They probably have other plans for the evening also, but hey, they are young and it’s natural. They are both responsible kids and have been offered places at several universities, so we are not worried about them screwing up by screwing unsafely. I did “The Talk” with Blake a couple of years ago, amid eye rolling and him humouring me. He has always seemed wise beyond his years and he really cares for Lucy.
While we walk, the atmosphere between Chris and me is as relaxed as it has been for some time and she even links arms with me. We are always united, when it comes to Blake’s happiness and we really want to make a good impression on Lucy’s parents.
We are bringing a nice bouquet of flowers for Lucy’s mom and a very good bottle of wine for her dad. Chris tells me that she thinks the kids are both going to accept their offers from Nottingham, so they can go to study in the same place. That will be nice. All the more reason to make this evening a success.
The house is big and impressive, if you are impressed by that kind of thing, with a very well-kept, if formal and unimaginative front garden. I guess that Lucy’s parents are going to turn out quite conventional.
This is confirmed, when the door opens. Her mom is fashionably skinny and has carefully coiffed hair, a little black dress and pearls. Dad is dressed as if for a business meeting and seems to have a broom up his ass. It’s a shame, as he has a strong, interesting face, green eyes and, I notice as he accepts the wine, rather beautiful hands.
They look us up and down and his nostrils flare in disapproval. She maintains her hostess façade a little better and gushes over the flowers. Oh well, we both believe in being ourselves, so I introduce us, kick off my clogs and go on into the living room, to make myself comfortable.
We all have a drink to break the ice and I am pleased to see that Lucy’s dad, whose name is Sean, has a good taste in Scotch. His wife, Mary, blinks a little, when Chris asks for a beer, but, the perfect hostess, she produces one and perches on the edge of her chair, sipping her own sweet sherry, while Chris occupies the other armchair, kicking off her sandals and tucking her feet under her, comfortably, leaving Sean ‘s only option to join me on the couch.
Small talk is exchanged and we establish that Sean is a successful solicitor, with a fast growing practice, while Mary is a homemaker. From the look of their home, which is clearly cleaned and organised to within an inch of its life, she finds her role most fulfilling.
Chris scores a point by complementing her on her beautiful home, then loses about ten, by admitting that she has always found life too short to do housework, as there are always more interesting things to do.
I jump in and tell them about my post at the university, which seems to smooth things over and soon we are being ushered into the dining room to be confronted by snowy white napery and gleaming glass and silver. Mary could give them lessons in etiquette at Buckingham Palace and I hope I don’t cause an international incident by using the wrong fork.
The appetizer is French onion soup, which Mary calls Soupe à l’Oignon and then we have Boeuf Bourguignon with Mousse au Chocolat to follow and a very good cheeseboard. There are no complaints about the food and Sean pours the wine generously, so we manage quite well, with general chat about this area and our home in the States. No landmines stepped on yet and so far so good, although the atmosphere is still a little strained. Strangely, as the reason for the invite was our kids, nobody mentions either of them.
Mary goes off into the kitchen with Chris to stack the dishwasher and make coffee, while Sean gets out a fine cognac. He must be stifling in that suit and tie and I suggest to him,
“Sean, why don’t you take off that jacket and tie now and relax. You can’t be comfortable like that. Do you mind if I smoke?”
Sean seems grateful I have raised it and loosens his tie, throwing his jacket over a chair. He tells me we can smoke in the conservatory if we open the French doors, so we move out there onto the cane furniture and I take out my tin and start to roll a joint.
It is only, when I look up and catch his horrified expression, that I realize he thought I was referring to tobacco.
Sean
I can’t help but feel overdressed, as we sit down and have a drink. Blake’s mum, Chris, has also rid herself of her footwear, and picked out my favourite chair, and I sit down next to Viggo. It’s all a bit awkward, but we talk a little about my work and it’s not too bad. I can’t help but smirk a little when Chris asks for a beer, knowing women in Mary’s world don’t drink beer (like they don’t give blowjobs, or wear strings).
Viggo and I drink Scotch and I am beginning to relax a little when Mary stands up and directs us to the dining room. As always dinner is perfect, and Mary happily receives the compliments. I busy myself with the wine, trying to think about subjects to talk about with this man, Viggo.
Strange enough it’s much easier when dinner is done and the women disappear into the kitchen, Viggo asks me why I don’t get rid of the tie and my jacket, and I gladly go for that. I feel much more at ease now. If his son wasn’t trying to get his hands on my daughter – or maybe already has – I would probably like him, even though he’s very unconventional.
I am so grateful when he asks if he can smoke, because that means I can smoke too, and I take him to the conservatory, the only place I can smoke in peace - if I open the French doors, that is. I am looking round for my cigarettes I left here this morning, when I see him rolling a joint from a silver tin.
Fuck! Pot in this house? Mary will have a fit!
He obviously caught me looking, as he smiles apologetically.
“Do you mind, Sean?”
I shrug, and he lights up, the sweet smell of marihuana floating through the air, bringing things back to life I had declared dead a long time ago. I close my eyes and I can see myself there, leaning against some wall, loud music banging. My hair was long and I used the make up I stole from my sister. Life was good back then, not a care in the world, and I was looking down, brown eyes, blue eyes looking up at me, and.. no! I shake my head vehemently to rid myself of the images and stare at Viggo’s blue eyes, or are they grey, when he offers me the joint.
Again I shake my head. I really want to accept, but I have to think of Lucy. Here’s another reason I don’t want her to keep seeing Blake. She’s young, and eager for life and new experiences. I don’t want her to smoke and certainly don’t want her to smoke pot!
Viggo smokes in silence, his eyes almost closed. He’s a good looking guy, I must admit to that. When he opens his eyes and grins lazily at me, something deep inside me stirs. He’s a danger, I realize, even more than his son; a danger to me and my daughter. I steel myself and take a deep breath before I take the plunge.
“Erm, Viggo, I think we should talk about Lucy and Blake,” I say, my voice a bit unsteady.
His eyes open, and he looks surprised.
“What about them Sean? I think they are doing fine. Your Lucy is a great kid.”
Well I never expected it to be easy, and I pick my next words carefully.
“Don’t you think they spend too much time together? I mean they should really focus on their studies. You as a teacher should be worried about that too.“
They work together Sean, and they are both doing well. I don’t see any reason for worrying.”
Okay, let’s have it out then,
“I think they are too young, Lucy is too young, and to be honest, I don’t want her to be with Blake all the time. It’s just not a good idea.”
This time the blue eyes are blazing at me.
“You think my son isn’t good enough for your daughter, Sean, is that it?”
“I don’t say he’s not good enough,” I protest. “I just think he’s different, and I think it won’t work.”
“I am sure we can leave that to them,” he says, still staring at me.
“And what if Lucy gets pregnant?” I say, my stomach clenching at the thought.
He suddenly grins.
“Is that’s what’s behind all this? Blake knows his business very well Sean, and I trust your daughter does too. I trust them both, and they are very sensible.”
“Lucy is too young to have a sexual relationship.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you; you can’t stop her. What’s the matter with you? Were you never young?”
I blush and stammer a little, and this time he laughs and lays a hand on my arm.
“I bet you were wild, Sean, and that’s what scaring you so much now. Relax man, they’ll be fine.”
I am speechless, and this time I grab the joint when he offers it to me again and inhale deeply.
Then Mary's sharp voice cuts the air.
"Sean .. ! What do you think you're doing?"
Summary: Sean is a succesfull solicitor, and unhappily married. Guess what happens when his daughter falls in love with Viggo's son. Viggo who is unruly and hippy-like.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: Family ValuesChapters: 7 Completed: Yes
Word count: 32137 Read: 9040
Published: 05 Aug 2009 Updated: 05 Aug 2009