I’m not sure what is par for the awkwardness that is generally inevitable the first time that your parents meet your boyfriend – or in my case, my no-labels, something more than platonic, special person. I would assume that the standard falls somewhere between my only previous experience, which included Jason unsubtly checking his phone twice while my father tried talking with him, insulting our president whilst making an ignorant remark about government programs, and carelessly spilling soda on my mother’s favorite, white tablecloth (it was an honest mistake, but awkward, nonetheless,) and, in the best case scenario of discomfort, when one or both of your parents ask your boyfriend about his future plans, and he brushes them off with a simple, less than witty joke to avoid the topic of his grunge-turned-punk band that is planning to tour state fairs in the summer after graduation. They feign laughter at the joke of course, because honestly, they’ve already passed judgment on the boy, and they don’t really care, anyways. (The latter was my recollection of an old friend’s experience, which she described appropriately as going “more smoothly than it could have.” Likely considering my experience in her assessment.)

Because of my decided, first-dinner Richter scale, I was left with little hope for a pleasant experience, particularly since I knew that I would be informing my parents that Jason and I had in fact seen each other this semester.

But someone, somewhere, must have decided that I’d already paid my debt of first-introduction distress, or maybe an exception applies to label-less relationships. Regardless, the stars aligned, and with the exception of Charlie’s slight shyness, which verges on giddiness (or as giddy as an oversized boy with tattoos can seem,) everyone at the table speaks easy and appears wholly comfortable, including myself.

“We usually just eat at the kitchen island, but we’re putting our best food forward tonight. Are you impressed?” My mother smiles at Charlie.

“Very. It’s nearly as luxurious as the coffee table that I usually end up eating at back home,” Charlie responds, grinning down at his plate.

“Well Stella says you have an great little house. Do you like living on your own? It must be a lot, to keep up a whole house by yourself.”

My father’s mouth is food, but he nods in agreement at my mother’s statement and question.

“I do like living on my own. I actually tried having a roommate when I first moved to Clemson, but it didn’t go very well. I don’t really mind keeping up the house, because other than training, I don’t have much to do, so…” Charlie smiles a little, taking a bite from his plate.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” I state, tilting my head at him.

My mother takes the opportunity to intervene while Charlie chews his food, “That’s why asking questions is a good thing, Stella. Charlie, does she ever even ask you about yourself?” My mother pesters innocently.

“More than he’d like, most of the time,” I fire back, and Charlie nods, chuckling.

“Well as long as you’re showing your genuine interest. What were the roommate problems over?” she asks.

“I lived with one of my high school friends, for just a short time. He’s a decent guy, but his habits aren’t favorable to live with, I guess, especially when you’re young and trying to focus on a career. He went out a lot and I followed him at first, but luckily my trainer forced me to focus again, Mark used to be much more intense.”

Charlie tells the story to everyone, but looks at me exclusively when he adds the last part, noting a detail that only I would understand.

“He was messy, too – my roommate. I like keeping things clean,” Charlie adds simply.

“Well that’s good that you were able to get your own place then, and a house, at that!”

“What’s your training schedule like? I have a friend who was a boxer when we were younger, it seemed like he was always in the gym. He was injured early in his career, unfortunately.”

Charlie clears his throat a little before he answers, “I train in the gym every day during the week, and I run a lot. When I have a fight coming up, I’ll do two a days, or train weekends, but I haven’t been in enough lately, if I’m being honest.”

Of course, my parents still don’t know about Charlie’s injury, which is what’s been keeping him from training avidly.

“Well hopefully Stella isn’t keeping you from business,” my dad smiles, “School never seemed to keep her very busy. You’re too clever for your own good,” he tells me. “I suppose it’s good that you have two jobs. That was nice of your trainer to introduce her to the psychologist.”

“Yeah, Mark is a quiet guy, but he’s good at networking. Too good, sometimes.”

My parents nod attentively and then look simultaneously down at their plates. Charlie brings his water glass to his lips and winks at me from the corner of his eye while we’re not being watched.

The brief quiet reminds me of my promise to Charlie that I’ll tell my parents about Jason’s most recent visit to Clemson. Before I have time to think, I push the words quickly, and it feels as if I’ve ripped a band-aid from my skin.

“Jason visited Marty in Clemson last weekend. You guys remember Marty, right?”

My father sighs and my mother’s cheeks flush, but they almost seem as though they were expecting it.

I look down at my fork while I mindlessly push peas around on my place. My mother fumbles for words as I feel something brush my foot gently under the table and realize that Charlie is offering me silent comfort.

“You should always tell us if he comes around, Stella. It’s important that we know. Did he cause any trouble for either of you?”

I shake my head, “I just wanted you both to know. I would’ve told you the night that I saw him, but I knew that you would just worry until you saw me again, so I just didn’t say anything,” I confess, clumsily.

I continue to stare down at my plate, where I’m now flattening the small pile of peas that I’ve formed. When I realize that no one’s speaking, I look up.

Across the table, my parents look warily between Charlie and I. I turn my head to find Charlie staring intently at me, his brow pulled together.

“He followed her into a bathroom,” Charlie tells them, still staring into my eyes, “You told me he was going to hurt you, didn’t you?”

I’m going to continue this chapter tomorrow or the next day. I’m so sorry! I just felt terrible since I've not updated for so long. I’m in school and working, and things have been hectic! I wish I had more time to just write. Hope you all are well. AND thank you for reading, as always :)