Page 120 of Places I've Never Been

“They didn’t want to intrude.” He took the first couple of steps, then realized Mattie wasn’t following.

She peeked into the front living room, then went down the hall.

He stood where he was, frozen by possibilities. If she wanted to meet his parents, did that mean she’d forgiven him? Or did it mean she was about to tell them how horrible their son was? He felt like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew.

He shook himself and followed her into the kitchen in time to hear his mother cry out, “Mattie! Come in, come in. We’ve been dying to meet you. I made sweet tea.”

His mother had folded Mattie into a tight hug that Mattie appeared to return. His mother was taller than Mattie, especially in her heels with her hair up in a neat bun. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the classroom, even though it was Saturday.

His dad stood awkwardly nearby. His gray hair was slicked back, and he had on the good shirt he usually wore to dinner or church. He looked pointedly at Adam.

“Well, introduce us, son.” His dad’s gruff voice caught his mother’s attention.

“Now, John, you know perfectly well who this is. Don’t mind him, Mattie, he’s a little starstruck.”

Mattie surreptitiously wiped a tear away and held out a hand to his father. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Now you call me John, Miss Bellamy.” He shook her hand.

“And I’m Barbara, or Barb, or Babs.” His mother patted Mattie’s arm.

“Only if you call me Mattie.” She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Adam talks about you quite a bit.”

“Well I’m sure most of it’s exaggerated. He likes to make it sound like I was the stubborn one.” His dad gestured to one of the chairs. “Care to sit?”

“John, I think they need a little time to themselves right now,” his mother chided. “Adam, why don’t you and Mattie go on up.”

He gave his mother a grateful smile and led Mattie out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. He opened the door and ushered her inside, then stood back and waited for her reaction.

The room hadn’t changed since the day he’d left. The same navy-blue comforter was still on the bed, the surfboard lamp still sat on the table, and the walls remained covered with posters, flyers, and album covers of all the musicians, bands, and songs he’d found inspirational during his high school years. The Bellamy Sisters were featured a little too often for him to be a mere fan.

In the empty spaces, teenage handwriting filled colored scraps of paper with bits and pieces of ideas that had turned into songs.

The most incriminating part of the room was the giant poster of Mattie Bellamy in a gossamer purple dress glued to the ceiling over the bed. She was turned to the side, with her hair in loose curls that kissed her bare shoulders. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile radiated private amusement.

He knew what it looked like. Every teenage boy knew what it looked like.

He tried to see the room through her eyes, and cringed.

Mattie took it all in without saying a word, though her eyes widened when she looked up at the ceiling.

It was a teenage fantasy to have Mattie standing in hisbedroom. His fifteen-year-old self would have passed out from excitement. His current self was a little out of breath and unsure as he waited for her to say something.

She spun slowly in place, her gaze moving from poster to poster, until she finally faced him and stopped.

He winced, then shrugged. “This is what I was lying to you about. I didn’t think you’d work with me if you’d known about all this.”

He gestured to the walls.

“I probably wouldn’t have,” Mattie said faintly. “It’s very…you.”

She moved slowly toward the largest wall. “I think you have every concert poster we ever had made.”

“Probably.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did you go to any?”

“Oh yeah.”

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