Page 124 of The Sounds of Her

My mom doesn’t believe my relationship with Archer is real. What better way to show her it is than to bring him with me? Because it is real. The fierce way he is looking at me right now proves that.

He’s prepared to take on my mother for me.

“We good?” he takes my chin, the fierceness in his eyes doesn’t scare me. My head dips in a nod. “Good,” he grabs my hand. “Let’s go kick some parental ass.”

It’s not until we’ve crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and are on the I-278 through Queens that he checks on me. I’ve been staring out of the window most of the ride.

“Did you tell them you’re coming?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t say anything else, flicking on the radio. He knows I need space. I appreciate the silent support. All he does is take one hand off the steering wheel and place it on my thigh. I rest mine over it and he leaves it there, warming my skin and my heart.

I direct him to my parents’ neighbourhood in Forest Hills Gardens, an exclusive neighbourhood where houses cost in the millions. Archer whistles as he stops on the street and looks up at the red brick Colonial, with its lower ground parking garage, and landscaped gardens, set on a small hillside.

“You grew up here?”

“They bought this when I went to college. The house I grew up in was on the Upper East Side. A three-storey town house. The right size for two people who didn’t want to see much of their kid.”

His jaw clenches again and I take his hand.

“It made me who I am today, Archer.”

“Doesn’t matter. No child should have to deal with the shit you went through. Let’s go.”

“When you calm down,” I warn him.

“I’m so calm,” he replies.

“No, you’re not. This is my fight. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve given me the strength to do this, Archer, but I have to do it.”

Archer isn’t happy about it, but after a few moments of staring at the house, he nods. “If they get out of line, all bets are off.”

A woman in uniform answers the door. I don’t recognise her. Seeing Archer, her eyes widen in shock. All he does is nod and she blushes.

I glance at him, and he smirks back, the maid might be impressed, but my parents will not be. Archer doesn’t care, he takes my hand, and we follow her beyond the wooden staircase to the formal sitting room, which overlooks the vast gardens, gazebo and swimming pool.

My dad stands by the fireplace holding a glass of what looks like whiskey. Mom is perched on the edge of the Italian armchair. The wealth in this room alone is obscene. They’ll be set for life selling the furniture in this place.

A pang of deep sadness hits me, but I force it out. I can’t let them see what they’ve done to me. I will show no weakness. Archer takes it all in while I keep my eyes pinned on Eloise. She only gives me a cursory glance before her focus falls on him.

He’s wearing ripped black jeans, a Ramones t-shirt and black Converse high tops, his tattoos on show. Archer looks hot, and for a moment I’m so drawn in by him, I forget what we’re here for.

A huff of discontent brings me back to the room. Disgust etches all of my mom’s features. For his part, Archer isn’t in the least bit bothered by her stare. He knows his worth.

As I know mine.

My attention goes to dad as he finishes what’s in his glass. He goes to pour another, but he doesn’t offer us anything. He has yet to make eye contact with me.

“You wanted me to come, so I’m here.”

“We wanted you to come. You did not need to bring anyone with you.”

“Mom,” I smile. It couldn’t be more forced if I tried. “Let me introduce you to Archer Harris.”

“I know who he is,” she glares at me.

---