Chapter 48: Belly Butterflies

"Since our progress with tracking Janet has stopped," Caspian chose his words carefully, almost as if he was afraid he'd say something that would scare me, "I'd like you to meet my parents," he finished, scanning my face to scrutinize my reaction.

"Your parents?" I asked, having not heard much about them, except that they had sold Caspian to repay their debt. But that alone was enough to make me dislike them. "Do you even still talk to them?" I asked. The question came out harsher than I intended, which caused me to wince.

A laugh escaped Caspian's mouth, a laugh that was used to disguise the awkwardness he felt. "Sometimes," he half-shrugged, not willing to remove both hands from the steering wheel. "I'd just really like you to meet them," he explained. His blue eyes wavered from the road ahead to sneak a quick peek at my face. For his sake I kept my expression calm and neutral, when I was actually dying of panic.

"Ok," I agreed, not sure what else to say.

"Ok," he repeated, his lips curved slightly in relief. He made a wide U-turn on the empty gravel road.

"Wait, now?" I asked, my eyes opened in disbelief with the thought of the daunting task that lay ahead. I expected to at least have a little time to prepare myself: wear a nice dress, a bit of makeup, make myself look pretty. I gazed down at my white shorts and my eyes travelled up to my pink tank top. Oh well, I guess it would have to do.

"Yeah," Caspian said, as if it was obvious. "When did you think?"

"Well, not today," I confessed, picking microscopic dirt from under my fingernails. "I thought you were just opening me up to the idea." A flight of butterflies formed in my belly. I could feel their wings tickling my insides, and spreading a wave of nerves through every inch of my body.

"Is today going to be a problem?" Caspian asked, his forehead creasing. He placed one of his hands on my thigh.

I played with the hem of my tank top, my nerves still on edge despite the fact that Caspian's touch seemed to have tamed the butterflies.

"What if they don't like me?" I asked, nibbling on my bottom lip.

"I'm more worried about you not liking them," Caspian replied, clenching his jaw; and then thinking better of it he quickly unclenched his jaw.

I didn't reply. My mind was sifting through all the possibilities of why he'd say that. Was his father abusive? His mother controlling? I didn't know if he had any siblings; but if he did, I would always wonder why Caspian was the one that got sold.

"It'll be okay," Caspian promised, driving the car into a panhandle driveway.

I swallowed nervously and repeated Caspian's words over and over in my head, hoping to find some truth to them. Caspian held my hand in his, stopping the wave of nausea that was forcing its way my up throat. He wrapped an arm around my waist and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, before smiling and leading me to the front door.

Caspian pressed his index finger to the doorbell. It made a ringing sound that was far from quiet, so I was surprised when no one answered.

I took the long silence as an opportunity to survey the house. The house itself was pumpkin orange with dull grey gables. The colour scheme looked like it had been thrown together at the last moment and no one had thought to repaint the house a decent colour. There was a large front yard that looked like it was used as a farm of sorts. It had a variety of vegetables growing in it: large leaved cabbages, blood red tomatoes and dirt-coloured potatoes.

The windows were wide open allowing the smell of fresh air to penetrate the house. The curtains danced in the wind, their tussled hands swaying to and fro while their long gowns swept the floor, creating the perfect ballroom dance. The house looked like it was home to a happy family. A happy family that had cast Caspian out. 

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