Page 60 of Hannah.
“I hope we aren't intruding,” I tell them, taking a seat after pulling out the chair for Astrid. Only small bites have been served so far—cheese plates paired with various nuts—and the working server swoops in to fill our wine glasses with the bottle that has already been uncorked for the table.
Mom laughs. “You are never an intrusion, darling.”
I glance at Dad, whose eyebrows are slightly raised in a knowing expression. I narrow my eyes. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist giving me a hard time, and here we are.
“We thought we'd surprise you,” I say, not breaking eye contact with my father. He is the picture of innocence.
Mom, who’s sitting in front of me, raises her glass with a nod. “Thank you, dear. It’s such a lovely idea.”
“How is your substitute teaching going?” Dad’s voice is steady and subdued, his tone sharply contrasting to Mom’s vibrant tone. He casually swirls his wine glass, eyes fixed on me, inviting a response with a raised eyebrow. “It’s been a few weeks now. How’s the new experience treating you?”
“It’s great. Challenging, but I enjoy it.” I try to sound confident, hoping to steer the conversation into safe waters.
Astrid, sitting close beside me, nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “He's so good at it.”
Mom tilts her head, a playful smirk pulling on her lips. She taps her fingers on the table, her bracelets clinking softly. “How do the students feel about having you teach their classes? You’re so young; it must be like another student running the show for them.”
“Some have definitely made comments like that.” I allow a wry smile to cross my face as I shrug, acknowledging the humor in her observation.
“But you’re handling it well, aren’t you?” Nina reaches across the table to gently squeeze my hand. Her voice is soft, yet her eyes are earnest, searching for confirmation.
“Of course,” I assure her with a squeeze back, my tone resolute. “They have no reason to think otherwise.”
The meal progresses with the usual pleasantries, yet it's impossible to ignore the loaded glances exchanged between both sets of parents. They weave their expectations into every look and gesture, their smiles a bit too tight, their nods a bit too pointed. I keep the conversation light, touching on inconsequential topics, even as Astrid seems blissfully oblivious to the undercurrents.
Astrid's parents, having hinted at an engagement since the summer, and mine, not shy about my need to settle down, make the atmosphere thick with unspoken pressures.
I’ve always known I'd get married eventually, but feeling their expectations tightening around me like a noose is suffocating.
A beep from my phone snaps me back to reality. My heart skips a beat as I discreetly check it under the table. Hannah has sent me a picture of the enormous bouquet of roses on her desk, accompanied by a message:I just got them. They are beautiful. I’m impressed by your determination, not gonna lie. And to answer your question in the letter…. Yes. X
A surge of joy rushes through me, and I can't help but grin at the screen. The question I’d asked her at the end of my letter was, “Would you make me the happiest man on earth and come with me tomorrow night to Portmeirion?” Her enthusiastic “yes” feels like a dream come true. It’s as if the world has suddenly become brighter, and every worry has melted away. I imagine us together in Portmeirion, sharing an unforgettable weekend, and my heart swells with love and gratitude. Her response makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, ready to embrace the future with her by my side.
“Is everything okay, son?” My dad’s inquisitive tone echoes across the table.
I quickly slide my phone back into my pocket and look up with a reassuring smile. “Absolutely.”
At the end of the meal, after dessert, we stand and thank our parents for the invitation. I try to be as casual as possible, but I’m already thinking of my next steps to get away as quickly as possible.
“Thank you for inviting us.” Astrid’s bright voice fills the room, her gaze sweeping from my mom to my dad. “And thank you for the lovely meal.”
Dad responds with open arms, his voice hearty. “You’re always welcome.”
Mom fixes me with a knowing stare as I mumble my thanks, her perceptive eyes searching mine, aware of the undercurrents she's too wise to ignore. While I haven’t told her anything about Hannah, Mom’s not stupid; she knows something is up between us.
“It was nice catching up,” I state, the urgency in my voice betraying my eagerness to leave. “But we really should be going.”
Astrid's dad chuckles, patting the back of his chair in a relaxed gesture, suggesting we linger longer. “Don’t be silly; stay for coffee in the lounge. A little caffeine will help with the drive back.”
Astrid, now stretching, lets out a gentle yawn. “Actually, that sounds fantastic. Johan, are you in a hurry?”
The last thing I want to do is have coffee and linger here longer. The truth of everything feels like it’s suffocating me from the inside out, and I need a break. The sooner, the better.
I catch my father’s eye, and he can immediately see something is off with me. There’s a silent communication between us, where Dad jerks his head just slightly towards the terrace, and I catch on quickly enough.
“Go ahead, Astrid. I need to talk to Dad about—” I fumble around for a believable lie. “About a few family matters.”
Once out on the terrace, we stand side by side and share a contemplative silence, the soft evening breeze gently rustling our clothes. The quiet provides Dad with the space to consider his words, the air filled with the anticipation of a delicate conversation.