Page 110 of Paradigm
Her parents walked inside, and her father closed the door behind them.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” her mother said.
“Yes, it is. And you remember Arlowe, don’t you?” she asked, changing the subject because Arlowe was just standing there, holding her hands together in front of herself, anxiously waiting to be reintroduced to Eline’s parents.
“Yes. Hello, Arlowe.”
Her father held out his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Claasen. It’s nice to see you again.”
Arlowe shook the man’s hand stiffly, which had Eline smiling and moving to her side.
“Hello, Arlowe,” her mother said.
“Mrs. Claasen.”
Arlowe held out her hand, and Eline’s mother shook it, which felt odd because her parents had once hugged Arlowe when they’d greeted, but Eline would let it go for now.
“How have you been? When Eline told us that you two were back together, she mentioned that you’re an engineer, too,” her father said.
“Why don’t we all go sit in the living room?” Eline suggested. “I have a few appetizers. The chicken is just cooling on the stove right now. It needs another ten minutes or so.”
“You made appetizers?” her dad asked, looking around them toward the table where she’d plated everything.
“I bought appetizers and put them on a plate, but I did make dinner.”
“Well, I skipped lunch, so I wouldn’t mind an appetizer.”
Her father walked by them and into the living room.
“And Arlowe isn’t just an engineer,” Eline said mostly to her mother, who was standing there, sizing Arlowe up. “She owns her own company.”
Eline glanced at Arlowe, who appeared to be frozen in place, with wide eyes aimed at the refrigerator behind Eline’s mother.
“That’s right,” her father said from behind them. “Some language thing.”
Eline heard him crunch on something right after.
“So, you’ve done well for yourself, then?” her mother asked.
“Um…”
“Let’s go into the living room,” Eline interjected again, glaring at her mother, silently asking her to relax, and when her mother joined her father, she leaned into Arlowe and added, “Babe, come on. Let’s get you something to eat. You look a little pale. Are you all right?”
“Nervous,” Arlowe whispered. “Your mother is plotting my death.”
“She is not,” Eline said, taking Arlowe’s hand and turning them around. “Yes, it’s a language app, but it’s a lot more than that.”
“I’ve never understood why Americans always begin with talking about their work. We don’t do that here,” her mother said.
“You just did,” Eline argued. “He brought it up.”
She pointed to her father.
Arlowe and she had brought in two of the four chairs from the kitchen table so that they could sit in the living room together before dinner, but Eline hadn’t thought about the fact that her parents would take the sofa, and she wouldn’t be able to be close enough to Arlowe in their separate chairs to hold her hand, so she waited until Arlowe sat down and then scooted her chair over a little closer, taking Arlowe’s arm and wrapping it around the back of her chair at least.
“That was your father’s way of letting you know that he remembered what you’d told him when you mentioned that you were dating Arlowe again,” her mother said.
