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“This is it, home sweet, home,” Arthur says as he pushes open the door of his childhood house in Connecticut. It was Arthur’s thirtieth birthday and what better way to celebrate the big 3-0 by bringing home a girl to Mom and Pop?
Ariadne smiles happily as he lets her in first. She takes off her sneakers and leaves them by the door and marvels at the hominess of the place, something so unlike Arthur it’s hard to imagine it’s where he came from.
“Where are your parents?” Her voice cracks as she grips the handle of her travel bag tightly with her right fist as she places her left hand on Arthur’s arm. He looks down at her hand then up at her face and smiles goofily, happy that she’s here, happy that she’s here with him and that she’s nervous.
“They’re probably at the grocery store, they’ll be back soon I’m assuming.” He puts down the luggage long enough to put his and her shoes into the closet, then snakes an arm around her. “They’re going to love you,” he says as he presses his lips to her head, “stop worrying.”
She smiles, but his calming words and demeanor do nothing to assuage her unease. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”
Their first stop his old bedroom. It’s mutely decorated, more like Arthur. Its color scheme is in grey and blue, with a hint of green. The walls, that have no posters or artwork pinned to them, are a sleek grey color, while his bed is adorned in a blue comforter set. The colors overall are calming to Ariadne because this—this room—is Arthur.
“Not what you expected?” Arthur asks when she has yet to say anything, but has found comfort sitting on his bed.
“Actually it’s exactly as I pictured. The house isn’t much like you, but this room—it’s like I can feel you in here.” Her eyes shine with adoration and his dimpled grin show the gratitude he holds in his heart for having found someone like her.
They’re grinning at each other like teenagers, alone for the first time, when he hears the front door open and shut, his parents talking excitedly.
“They’re here. Are you ready?” Arthur holds out his hand for her to grab, but she keeps both her hands wrapped together in her lap.
“No. I can just slip out the window, its okay. I can climb down the trellis. You got one?” She’s so flustered and he thinks it’s so cute. But his distraction has caused him to actually miss her getting up and opening his window, peering out. He shakes his head and chuckles quietly when he hears, “Eureka!” whispered underneath her breath.
He walks over to her and hugs her from behind, locking his hands in front of her. “You are going to be fine. Just remember you’re the first girl my mom will meet and she’s going to love you, but not as much as I love you. So can we go downstairs and face the music?” The side of his face is resting against her head and he is physically moved by her refusal. “My darling,” he said while his accent was reminiscent of Eames, “you crossed the line of no return when I opened the front door. Let’s go.”
She sighs and turns around in his arms, pressing her hands to his hard chest. “They’ll like me right?” Her insecurity is fueled by her age, he notes, since she’s never had a serious boyfriend to go home and meet the family. He nods and smiles, still amused by her reluctance, and excited all the same.
All he does is smile and nod. He grabs her hand and leads her to the stairs. Once at the top he begins walking down, stomping extra loudly to signal their arrival. Just when he does, his parents’ voices quiet and he hears his mother’s tell-tale dog squeal. Before swinging the kitchen door, he hears his mom say, “Peter, they’re coming!”
“Hey mom, how are you?” Arthur lets go of Ariadne’s hand to hug his mom tightly and then moves to shake his father’s hand.
“Hi! You must be Ariadne! I’m Brenda, call me Brenda. How are you my dear? My, you’re a skinny little thing, aren’t you! But so pretty! Peter, didn’t Artie say she was pretty?” Ariadne was both amused that Arthur’s parents called him ‘Artie’ and happy that his mother appeared to have taken a liking to her, unless the death grip of a hug was really a threat.
“It’s so wonderful to meet the both of you,” Ariadne says as Brenda puts an arm around her shoulder an leads her to the counter, where Arthur is standing by the bar stools waiting to pull one out for her. “Arthur has been yearning to come home and I’m glad I could tag along.” She looks at Arthur as he pulls the stool for her, his mother walking around the counter to resume slicing vegetables. Arthur smiles reassuringly and puts a hand on her back as he stands by her chair.
“Tag along? Oh no, I demanded you come when he told me he would be in town. Don’t think it was his idea, my dear, I’m still his mother,” Brenda says, laughing at the same time.
“She’s kidding, Arthur’s been talking about you for some time now, Ari—” he can’t make out her name so he pauses, and behind Ariadne, Arthur flushes at his father’s mistake.
“Ari-ad-ne, but you can call me Ari,” she says charmingly. Peter nods and smiles.
“Ari, then; my boy here hasn’t been home in a while, though I can’t see how a financial firm in downtown London can keep a man from visiting his old dog of a father every now and then.”
Ariadne nods at the cover story, having been prepped with the back story of his parents’ very limited knowledge on the plane.
Arthur clears his throat, “Uh, dad? I don’t work in London anymore, remember? It’s Paris now—where we met.”
Peter starts nodding, “Oh right, Paris, how are them frog-lickers if you don’t mind me asking?”
Arthur once again blushes, hoping Ariadne isn’t offended, but instantly comforted when he hears her easy laughter. “Frog-lickers! That’s so funny! Man I’m going to have to remember that.” He knows her well enough to know she isn’t faking her amusement, and his pride at having his parents so obviously enamored of Ariadne makes his chest swell.
“Oh, don’t listen to him, Ari,” Brenda says emphasizing her new nickname, “he’s a stick in the mud.”
Arthur nearly face palms behind Ariadne when he hears his mother say it, but his intentions to do so are forced when he hears Ariadne laugh with even more mirth when she says, “That’s even funnier! I know Arthur’s coworkers like to call him that too!”
“Be careful, Ari, those offspring of yours will be the same way unless you do something to loosen up the genes in that one.” His mother points at him with the knife, but he’s too shell shocked at her mentioning kids to even bristle at the repeated insults to his personality.
“Don’t worry Brenda, I have my ways with this one,” Ariadne says leaning into Arthur’s side and putting a hand on his chest. She doesn’t look at him because she’s too busy sharing smiles with his mother, but she can feel his chest shake underneath her hand and she’s unsure if it’s an uneasy shake or excited one. She chooses not to look.
Too bad, considering if she had looked at him, she would have seen Arthur looking at his father with a look on his face of absolute love and his father smiling and nodding approvingly.
~
“Oh, don’t be sad Cowboy Arthur! I ain’t gonna needle ya too much!” Ariadne is having too much fun at Arthur’s expense, he thinks, and quickly moves to tickle her into submission.
“I should throttle my parents for showing you those stupid pictures. Then, I should burn them.” His eyes are closed and he chooses to focus on the feeling of being in his bed again and having his girl tucked under his arm.
No bed has ever felt as good on his back as this one. None of the four and five star hotel beds that come with latex padding and goose down comforters have ever matched the bed that molded his back for seventeen years, it seems. And right now? With Ariadne at his side, his stomach full with his mother’s best dish, and his mind running through the wonderful dinner they all shared together, he couldn’t be any more content.
“What has you smiling like that?” Ariadne says, spreading her arm over his bare chest and holding him close to her.
“Just happy,” is all her says.
“Mm, I’m happy too.”
She waits a beat before confessing to him all the fears she let manifest over the past few weeks. “I was really nervous coming here tonight Arthur.” He looks at her face, solemn now, and waits for her to continue. She’s staring at his ceiling thinking of all the years he spent sleeping in this bed, looking at the same ceiling dreaming of the future, maybe even indulging in the boyhood fantasies and whacking off to pictures of models and naked girls. “But I’m really glad you asked me along and… I love your parents. They’re awesome and your mom is so sweet and I swear your father is funnier than any comedian I’ve ever heard.”
“They loved you, they absolutely loved you. My mom told me so after dinner, when I was doing the dishes, but even if she hadn’t said it, I would’ve known.” He pauses and looks up at the ceiling, neither of them looking into each other’s eyes, as if what they’re talking about is too personal, too intimate, even for these practiced lovers.
“Ari…” he pauses for a few beats so that he can gather up his wits for what he’s about to do. “I love you, you know that, right?” He turns now, and she turns as well, almost choreographed.
She nods enthusiastically, holding him, if at all possibly, tighter. “I love you too, Arthur. So much,” she pauses and looks at his mouth, as she often does when she needs to be anchored from her intense feelings for him, “I can’t imagine my life without you. Despite the danger of the job and the times when I’m so scared for you and the times when I’m so angry with you for sitting me out and despite all the times I think we should quit and work like normal people, I love you and I will always love you.”
He turns on his side so that he can grab the ring box from his side dresser and then turns back so that he’s facing her directly. He’s holding the ring box behind his back, wanting to do everything right. “Stand up, Ari, I want to try something.”
She does so, but is confused. She stands up and fixes the boxer shorts she sleeps in and smoothes out his t-shirt that she fancies wearing to bed. He gets off the bed and comes around the corner of the bed to stand directly in front of her, his hand still tucked slightly to his back. Ariadne is genuinely confused and has no idea.
He kisses her softly, then hungrily, wrapping his arms around her now when she’s too distracted to notice the black box hidden in his fist. She wraps her arms around his back to rest on the small of it when he pulls her flush against him. He pulls away, leaves small pecks on her lips, cheeks, chin, and neck, then pulls back to look at her.
“You’re beautiful. And you’re intelligent and talented. And you make the best pancakes. And you laugh at my dad’s horrible jokes.” At his last comment, she laughs softly, matching his night time volume. “And I love you, with all my heart. I don’t say it often, I know, but I hope I show it often enough. And if I don’t, I’ll fix it, and I’ll be better for you.”
She shakes her head, their arms still snug around each other, both still standing at the foot of his bed. She’s beginning to suspect what he’s doing, and she’s nervous but excited all the same. “You are perfect in your imperfections and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything,” she pauses and then squeezes him again, “okay? Understand?”
He smiles and nods, and with all he can gather in him, he pulls away and bends to rest on one knee.
“Ariadne Porter, you are the woman of my dreams and I will never search for anyone more suited for me because you’re it. You’re my girl and I hope you will be forever. Will you marry me?”
She smiles and the tears come down freely. She laughs and nods at the same time, resting her hands on his shoulders to kiss him. He wraps his arms around her thighs and hugs her closely, kissing her fully.
“Yes, I will marry you.” He’s smiling so hugely, his face will hurt for it in the morning, and she’s laughing quietly but hardly containing her joy.
“You’re going to marry me.” He doesn’t say it to ask for confirmation, because he thinks they’ve known all this time, or at least since he asked her to spend his thirtieth birthday with him and his family, that they were soul mates and that the trials they’d been through together because of their job poised them for a future together. She’s nodding and kissing his cheeks and forehead and chin and neck and anything she can reach.
“I will love you forever, Arthur Evans.”
~
They’re trying to be quiet, and succeeding for the most part, but they can’t control the springs in the mattress because like Arthur noted earlier, his bed is nothing like the spring-less latex mattresses from his beloved five star hotels. The headboard is banging quite nosily against the wall, so much so that Arthur pulls out and gets off the bed to put a pillow between the wood and the wall.
Once he’s nestled back in the bed (and Ariadne) he picks up speed to make up for the loss of contact. They’re both so high strung on happy emotions that their closeness to orgasm is at an all time record low of less than five minutes. He’s whispering, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon Ari, come,” and she’s saying with a low, husky whisper, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming, God, I’m coming.”
He grips both of her hands in his, braced to the sides of her head. He’s rolling his hips and gripping her hands tightly in his. He’s rolling and she’s coming and then he’s coming and it’s the quietest orgasm they give each other. His head is nestled in the crook of her neck and her mouth is kissing the side of his neck and they both act like each other’s skin is a muffler to keep in their sounds. He’s heavy on top of her but it’s a blissful kind of weight that she holds on to because he’s her man and only hers, and whatever possessiveness she’s ever felt for him is holding strong now and she can’t get enough of him.
So when he’s on top of her still, inside of her still, soft and resting, she moves to bring her hands to his face. She kisses him sweetly and reaffirms for him that they’ll be married soon for she doesn’t want to wait and big church weddings never suited her fantasies of them. He says they should do it after they visit her parents in California. He remarks without much thought, but with all the preparation of weeks spent planning, that her mother will love the ring he ended up picking, for she helped him narrow down his choices to two. Ariadne is stunned into silence, her death like grip on his hips loosens with the surprise, and she squeaks when he’s hard again and is pleading with his eyes for round two. She kisses him hard on the mouth, because there isn’t much to say when all they feel is spread out in front of them.
~
“So kids, how did you sleep?” Brenda asks slyly. Her hands are busy kneading dough because Arthur loves her homemade garlic bread and she wants to celebrate the shiny ring on Ariadne’s finger.
Peter is across from Arthur laughing at his son’s red face and his soon to be daughter-in-law’s even redder face.
“Fine, mom,” Arthur muffles out as his hand goes to squeeze Ariadne’s thigh. She grabs his hand to rip his grip from her leg before she has to reawaken the dead limb. She looks at him, but he won’t meet her gaze, embarrassed by his parents. She loves the blush on his face and it brings her down from her own discomfort. She leans over to kiss his cheek and everyone that isn’t named Arthur or Ariadne is quiet and staring. She whispers, “I love you,” and she swears that as she hears him whisper, “I love you, too” she hears Brenda whimper and grab a dish rag to wipe a stray tear.
“Aw, you two! Are! So! Cute!” his mother is overjoyed and his father is proud and he is so delirious with happiness that he can’t bring himself to care that his parents totally know he got laid the night before, in their house, nonetheless. Everything is perfect, and for everything they’ve been through; for all the dangerous jobs they’ve taken in the past that have earned them the comfort of not having to worry about bills, and the illegal activity they work hard to conceal, he feels that he has finally gotten his due. He’s got his girl, and the knowledge that a lifetime with her is going to be oh, so good.