Page 15 of The Boardroom: Kirk
“You know, avoid the pervy uncle, complement so and so’s cookies, all of that stuff.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking over all of my extended family and my mother’s friends who usually show up at the potluck. “My family is not so much perverts as much as cutesy grandma types that will pinch your cheeks and ask us when we’re getting married and making more kids with cheeks they can pinch.”
Marissa blushed a bit at this suggestion. “Got it.”
We only have about ten minutes left to go until we reach my parent’s house, a quaint colonial nestled in the suburbs. Marissa looks happy and content, gazing out the window as the winter light illuminates her face. I’m terrified to let words fall out of my mouth, terrified that anything could possibly threaten the calm, lovely silence surrounding us as we wind up and down the tree-lined roads.
It’s that same happy silence we had in Biology class, I think, chiding myself for letting my mind return there. That unexplainable, impossibly wonderful peace and understanding that only comes from true instant chemistry.
The silence breaks as we turn into my parent’s neighborhood, where the houses are adorned with all of the usual tacky Christmas decorations. We pull onto the side of the road next to my house behind a row of cars already parked there. Fifteen minutes in, and the Atkins family potluck is already in full swing.
I get out of the Jaguar and walk over to the passenger side to let Marissa out. She steps onto the sidewalk and turns to me, holding out her hand, and I just stare at her quizzically.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Hold my hand,” Marissa says.
I slip my bare hand into Marissa’s, which is covered by a cashmere glove but still somehow emanating a kind of warmth from it, and I feel a thrill already.
“Let’s go,” she says, and smiles up at me, as if to indicate that she likes holding my hand as much as I do hers, and we walk up to the wreath-covered door to ring the bell. I feel her give my hand a squeeze, as if she senses I’m a little nervous about this whole thing.
The door cracks open and it’s my cousin Daryl, who immediately undresses Marissa with his eyes as subtly as he can, and I’m tempted to glare at him.
“Hey Kirk,” he says, shaking my hand.
“Hey,” I swallow nervously. “This is my girlfriend, Marissa Hayes.” The words feel like molasses leaving my mouth—far too sweet and sinful to be real.
“Nice to meet you,” Daryl says, shaking Marissa’s hand warmly. “Let me take your coats.”
Marissa slips her red coat off and I nearly lose my breath at how stunning she looks underneath it. She’s wearing a tan-colored sweater dress that fits her curves in all the right places, and I’m dumbstruck. Her brunette waves are falling over her shoulders down to just above her cleavage, and her dangling gold earrings match the accents on her gold over-the-knee boots.
I gloated to myself. These people are going to thinkshe’smy girlfriend.
Marissa smiles up at me, and my heart jumps as she slips her arm inside mine. I’m wearing a red and tan argyle sweater that matches her dress, and hell, I think we might even pass for a couple, a good looking one at that.
We follow Daryl into the living room, where all of the potluck festivities go on. The room is the same as it’s looked every year, with a towering Christmas tree covered in tinsel, a lit fireplace in the corner, and my mom’s favorite Celine Dion Christmas album playing in the background. The table is full of potluck goodies—the old classics, like my Grandma’s sweet potato casserole with marshmallows and Aunt Lynn’s watercress sandwiches, as well as some new additions. There’s something that looks like lamb kabobs and something else that might qualify as stuffing but I didn’t want to be the one to check for sure.
I feel my stomach turn as people break up their conversation to acknowledge the two new guests in the room. It’s Marissa they notice first—the almost unbearably beautiful stranger. It’s when they see her clinging onto my arm that the puzzle pieces fall into place, and people’s reactions seem to range from confused to thrilled.
My mother walks up to us first, her eyes almost rabid with excitement. “So, who might this be?” she asks, and the room has quieted as people watch our interaction with hungry eyes.
“Mom, this is Marissa Hayes,” I say. “She works with me at Torver.”
“Nice to meet you, baby,” my mother says, wrapping Marissa in a hug. “Well I’ll be damned,” she says, looking Marissa up and down. “I never thought Kirk would bring home a girl as pretty as you.”
Marissa blushes and then reaches into her tote bag to pull out a blue Tupperware container. “I made a potato casserole,” she says, handing the container to my mother. “It just needs to be microwaved for a couple of minutes.”
My mother beams at me as she makes her way to the kitchen. “Ah! I love her already. Kirk, where’s your dish?”
“Um,” I start. Oh, crap. In all of the excitement over Marissa I had completely forgotten.
“Mmhm,” my mother says, giving me an admonishing glare. “Next year Kirk, you better remember.” She touches Marissa on the shoulder and gives her an affectionate smile. “I’ll talk to you later, honey.”
Marissa blushes again and I’m all of a sudden at a loss for words. “Sorry,” I stutter. “She’s a bit…enthusiastic sometimes.”
She just laughs. “I like her.”
We make our way over to the couch, and I’m still uncomfortably aware of the many sets of eyes fixed on us. We’re seated in the corner of the room, farther away from most of the guests, so we have no choice but to talk amongst ourselves…and we both seemed to be at a loss for words.
