Electric Impulse

chapter 1 | meeting sebastian's parents

"We arrived a while ago," Mrs. Duvall informs me.

"Traffic. Sorry," I reply sheepishly.

Starting off with an apology . . . not a good start . . . .

Sebastian laughs uncomfortably. "It hasn't been that long."

"Hmm," is all Mrs. Duvall says behind a tight-lipped expression.

That feels off.

"It's so nice of you to join us, Aria. We've heard good things," Mr. Duvall welcomes me with a warm smile and a handshake.

Mrs. Duvall gives me a once over. "Your hair . . . it's . . . uh . . . different. Very . . . unique."

Nice attempt at a compliment.

Reaching for my curly hair, I pat it for reassurance. "Yes, ma'am, it's natural."

She grimaces at the word 'ma'am.'

Oh shit. Strike two.

". . . uh . . . a lot of girls are going the natural route." I nod. "It's actually very versatile. I can wear it straight when I choose to."

"Hmm," she replies. Her eyes fall on my apparel. "Wearing Sunday's best?" she asks with a patronizing smile.

"To meet you fine people, of course!" I smile back with sincerity.

"Really no need to go all out. It's just brunch," she replies indifferently.

"Dear, let's not give Aria a hard time." Mr. Duvall turns to me. "You look beautiful," he tells me with all the affection of a doting father.

"Thank you," I murmur while looking down at my colorful floral print maxi dress. How is this overdressed when she's wearing a cream boucle jacket, matching skirt, and rose blouse? Maybe it's too much color for her taste?

Sebastian clears his throat, unbuttons the top button of his crisp white shirt with one hand, and changes the subject. "Aria should come to the barbecue next weekend. Right, Dad?" He turns to me. "It's a casual get-together. A few friends and family." He nods.

"Oh, yes. You can meet the rest of the family. It's our first party of the summer. Great food. Good people. Always fun."

"That sounds exciting. I'll take you up on that." I smile at Mr. Duvall.

Mrs. Duvall assumes the spotlight again. "So, Aria, my son tells me you're getting a degree in English? What do you plan to do with a degree in that field?" She stirs cream into her coffee as she glares at me before taking a sip. "As you know, my Sebastian is getting his degree in business administration. A smart move if you ask me." A light-skinned, Creole woman with dark, wavy shoulder-length hair and cold gray eyes, Mrs. Duvall wears a stern, serious expression. She's intimidating to say the least and seems impossible to please.

Mr. Duvall, on the other hand, has kind eyes, smooth light brown skin and a salt-and-pepper colored beard and mustache. Wearing a black dress shirt and slacks, he looks very distinguished. "Now, now," he whispers, patting his wife's hand as if to rein her in.

She ignores him.

My heart races as Mrs. Duvall's unflinching glare bores into my forehead. I clear my throat. "I'm, excuse me, I'm a writer. I've interned at the corporate headquarters of Davidson and Blackwell, working in their marketing department. I plan to go into that field. But at heart, I'm really a novelist. I'm in love with the written word. Words are my life." I pray I'm making a good impression.

"Sounds like you're a hopeless romantic. Let's hope that pans out for you."

"Yes, Mother," Sebastian jumps in. "I recently read an article on the high demand for writers in numerous fields. With marketing, advertising, scientific and technical writing, there's plenty of opportunity. Aria made a good choice." He looks at me encouragingly and places his hand over mine. Now that I'm able to see them all together, it's clear who Sebastian favors. He's the spitting image of his mother, minus the sharp-edged demeanor.

"Well. I suppose. But a hopeless romantic won't get the job done. They're dreamers. And when you're dreaming, you're not doing. See, women like your dear grand-mère, paved the way for girls like Aria here, to choose such . . . light-hearted studies as say . . . English. As you know, your grand-mère was an aeronautical engineer. Serious work for a serious woman. And it paid a serious salary, even at that time."

"Mother!" Sebastian gives Mr. Duvall a telling glance. "Dad?"

"Excuse me." Heart pounding in my chest, I push away from the table and head straight to the ladies' room. That woman has some nerve!

When I return from the restroom, I wander by the hostess stand and ask for a dessert menu, trying to buy some time. Now to the impossible task of choosing just one dessert. Everyone knows sugar kills stress. Hesitation becomes dread as the seconds tick by. I know I have to rejoin the table. I just . . . really don't want to. Within earshot, I overhear Sebastian going back and forth with his mother as his father tries to quiet them.

"Shh."

"What? My son deserves the best. And I can tell you right now, she's not it! She's beneath you." Mrs. Duvall purses her lips together tightly. "She's all wrong for you, Sebastian."

"You just met her, Mother. How can you say that?"

"Listen, a mother just knows. Besides, didn't you tell me she bought milk from a gas station?" She rolls her eyes in disgust. "How low is that? That should tell you everything you need to know."

Is this woman serious?

"Mother." Sebastian smiles at her. "Really? You're nit-picking. It was something I noticed. Something I knew you'd never do. It means nothing." He shrugs it off.

"That's not the point, Sebastian. Any woman willing to buy milk from a gas station, of all places, is not a woman whose judgment you can trust. It's uncouth. She's uncouth. And not very bright if you ask me. She has a liberal arts degree, for Christ's sake. If you're going to go to school, make sure it's worth the time and effort!" She leans over and loudly whispers, "Your grand-mère would be rolling over in her grave, right now!"

Sebastian sits there wearing the expression of a scolded child.

"Now, your one friend."

"Mother—"

"What? It's just a thought." She grins as she teases her son.

What's that about?

After thanking the hostess, I give her the dessert menu and return to the table, heart pounding, blood boiling, hoping against hope that what I thought I overheard was wrong. What about a friend? And gas station milk? Really?

Maybe she was talking about something or someone else.

She raises her eyebrow. "So, Sebastian tells me you like to buy milk from gas stations?"

She's really bearing down on this one.

What kind of guy tells his mom something like that?

I glance at Sebastian. He immediately looks down at his hands.

I waver, trying to think of something intelligent to say, in my defense. My chest tightens as I laugh politely, breaking the silence. "Um. Sure. It happened." I shrug. "But rest assured, I do all my shopping at the good old supermarket. Gotta love those, right?"

This is clearly going to be an uphill battle.

The rest of the meal is awkward, at best.

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A/N: Hey Lovers! That's the end of chapter 1. What are your thoughts? Do you side with Mrs. Duvall? Does she have the right to protect her son or is she totally out of line, judging Aria for something as trivial as buying milk from a gas station? I'm super curious to know! Please Vote, comment and follow. I appreciate it!

This chapter is dedicated to @missafrica for being such a loyal reader. I appreciate it, girl!