On Thursday, after work, I decide to go and visit my parents. It's been a while since I've seen them, which is inexcusable as they only live an hour away. Usually, I make the effort at least once a week, but it's been at least three since the last time I went.
I've always loved the drive down to Spencer's Creek. The road is lined on either side with plush green trees that create a canopy over the tar. The hour that it takes to get there is usually filled with me singing along to the radio in the confines of my car.
But, today the ride is silent. My fingers drum nervously against the steering wheel, and I can't even appreciate the beautiful landscape that I pass through.
My parents used to hate Mason, something they made very clear on many occasions.
I'm already picturing their reactions in my mind; my mum will remind me endlessly about what happened in high school, my dad will probably eye me over the top of his glasses with a stern, pinched look on his face. I have no idea why I am so nervous to tell them, I'm old enough to make my own choices and I don't live under their roof anymore. But, no matter how old I get, I still want to make them proud of me. I think I always will.
Being an only child, I've always been very close with them, except when Mason broke up with me and I withdrew from everyone. I tell my mum everything, I always have, and that's why I feel the need to let them know that, once again, I'm dating the man that they used to hate so much.
Well, that and I don't trust Hailee not to phone and tell them, she's almost as close with them as I am.
I pull into the driveway and look at the house that I grew up in. The garden is beautiful, a riot of colourful flower beds and luscious green grass. The exterior was recently re-painted from a pale yellow to off-white. The porch looks the same as ever, creaky wood and old banisters that wrap around it, holding in the most painful memory of my teenage years.
I've barely climbed out the car when my mum rushes out the front door, almost tripping down the steps in her haste. "Diana! We weren't expecting to see you. What a lovely surprise." She reaches me and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug.
"Hi, mum." I smile into her shoulder, the top of my head only reaching her nose.
She pulls away and holds me at arms-length, the fine wrinkles by her sky blue eyes creasing up as a wide smile splits her face. Her dirty blonde hair, a few shades lighter than mine, is thrown up into a messy bun with a couple of loose strands tickling the side of her face. "Come on in, I'll put the kettle on. Or," she winks at me and lowers her voice, "break out a bottle of wine?"
I can't help the chuckle that bubbles past my lips. "Coffee's good, mum. I have to drive back."
"Ah fine then," her shoulders sag. "I'll just have to find another excuse to drink it. It's been in my fridge for months. Let's go find your father."
I resist the urge to tell her that her wine's probably turned to vinegar by now, and follow her into the house as she yells for my dad. "Dale! Diana's here!"
My dad pokes his head out from the kitchen, a big smile crossing his face. "Diana, sweetheart, come give your old man a hug. I'm stirring the pot."
I walk through the hall, careful not to look too closely at the pictures of me that cover the light blue walls. They range from my baby years straight through to my graduation from college, including all my school photos that I would rather never see again.
Entering the kitchen I find my dad at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, frilly red apron covering his clothes and a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. The delicious aroma of tomatoes and basil wraps itself around me, reminding me so much of family dinners when I was younger.
His glasses are clouded with steam, partly obscuring his dark brown eyes. His greying hair curls slightly at his neck, the way it always does when it's humid.
As soon as I reach him he pulls me into a one armed hug, making sure not to stop stirring his sauce. "I'm making my special pasta; do you want to stay for dinner?"
His 'special pasta' is a delicious version of spaghetti bolognaise that relies heavily on fresh herbs. I nod eagerly and take a seat at the kitchen table, the wood of the chairs legs squeaking against the black and white linoleum floor.
My mum flicks the kettle on and turns to face me. "I feel like we haven't seen you in ages, sweetheart. What's been happening?"
"Well, work's going great and studying's going well. Coursework is killing me," I complain. The main problem with studying online, is all the projects that need to be completed throughout the year. It will all be worth it when I get my Master's degree though. I pause for a moment before I continue, gathering my courage. "And, I've started seeing someone."
"That's fantastic!" my mum exclaims happily. It's been over a year since I dated any one. In fact, I've only ever had two serious relationships; Mason, and Todd who I met in college. Neither of them was very popular with my parents. "Who is it?"
"Well it's someone that you both know, I used to date him-,"
"Please tell me it's that Tony guy," my dad cuts me off. At the same time my mum says, "oh that Todd one?"
"-in high school," I finish. "Do you remember Mason Hayworth?" I ask tentatively, knowing that they definitely do, but attempting to play it off like it's not a big deal.
The spoon my dad had been using clatters against the pot as he drops it, splattering red sauce over the stove and wall behind it. My mum's eyes go wide, and she pulls out the chair opposite me, taking a seat with her hands clenched together in front of her.
Crap.
"Mason Hayworth?" she repeats as though she can't believe it. "That boy who broke your heart?" her nose wrinkles in disgust at the word 'boy'.
Sauce forgotten, my dad walks over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. The stern, pinched look I had been imagining on my drive here covers his features. "Diana, honey," he seems lost for words for a moment. "Since when?" he finally settles with.
"More importantly," my mum interjects before I can answer, "why?"
"Because people can change," I tell them, determined to believe it myself. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't give him a second chance?"
"A smart one," my dad scoffs, still not leaving my side.
"Diana," my mum says softly, reaching a hand out and placing it over mine on the table. "Don't you remember everything that boy put you through? To use Hailee's lovely word for him, he was such a dildo."
It feels extremely wrong to hear my mum use the word 'dildo' in a sentence. I feel like I need to wash out my ears. I'm going to kill Hailee for that one. "Yes, but it's been years, mum. I need to move on from it eventually."
"And by moving on," my dad finally releases my shoulder and hurries back to his pot, "you mean dating the same boy who put you through hell?"
"He was my first love," my voice drops as I defend myself.
"Just because he was your first, doesn't mean he should be your last," my mum points out.
"Are you sure rekindling the relationship with him is the best thing for you?" my dad adds. "Why don't you date someone else, maybe that Liam boy from down the road?"
I decide against reminding him, yet again, that Liam is married. My parents have brought Liam up in conversation many times in the past, especially during my relationship with Mason, occasionally during my time with Todd.
The truth is; Liam and I had been close when we were in nursery school, but drifted very far apart by the time we got to grade one. I haven't even spoken to him in years, but I know from Facebook that he has a wife and kids. I have no idea why he seems to be their bench mark of a good boyfriend.
"We just want you to be happy," he continues when I don't respond. "And after that boy broke up with you, you were in such a state. I never thought we would get you back. We don't want to lose you again."
"You won't," I insist.
"But at the end of the day, it's your decision," my mum tells me, ignoring my dad's protests. "You're an adult now and more than capable of choosing your own partner. We do appreciate you telling us, though."
"Thanks mum."
"But if he so much as steps a toe out of line, I am setting Hailee on him," she threatens.
I chuckle at the warning, glad she seems to have come to terms with it. "Okay."
"And he is not welcome in my house," my dad points out. My mum looks at him with her eyebrows raised, but he just turns his back on us, continuing to stir his pot. I'm pretty sure the sauce must be reduced to nothing by now.
"That's fair," I say, more to appease him than anything. I don't think I would bring Mason here anyway, at least not until he has proven that he can change. My dad's not much of a fighter, but he has a sharp tongue. He would probably rip Mason to shreds.
It's only hours later as I'm driving home after a slightly burned, but still delicious dinner and two hours of light-hearted chatter with my parents, that I start to question myself.
Is being back with Mason really worth it?