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My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home, so I expected my husband to embarrass her—not order the pale, tattooed boy out before he’d even said hello. Then the boy silently put a photo on the table. One look at it, and my husband’s face went white.

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My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home before.

Maya was eighteen, independent in the way eighteen-year-olds think they are, and private about anything involving boys.

So when she texted me that she was bringing a boy home for dinner while I was cutting vegetables, I almost dropped my knife.


My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home before.

Bringing Evan over tonight. Please be nice. I really like him.

I smiled at the screen.

I knew she had dated a little, but names usually disappeared from conversation the second I showed too much interest.


Then another message came through.

And tell Dad to be normal.

Bringing Evan over tonight. Please be nice. I really like him.

I laughed.


My husband, Daniel, was sitting at the kitchen table trying to fix the loose handle on one of our cabinets.

“Maya says you’re supposed to be normal tonight.”

He glanced up. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Apparently she’s bringing home a boy.”


“That’s a lot of pressure.”

Daniel stopped turning the screwdriver.

“A boy?” He gave me a look. “I’m going to ask for his tax returns.”

“Daniel.”


“I’m kidding.”

Mostly, I thought.

“I’m going to ask for his tax returns.”

He went back to the cabinet.


“Lucky for Maya’s boyfriend, Mark will be dropping by to return my torque wrench later.” He gave me a wry smile. “Should give the boy a chance to pull up letters of recommendation and testimonials from his previous girlfriends.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You might find that funny, but I guarantee that Maya won’t.”

“Mark will be dropping by to return my torque wrench later.”


“Come on… you’ll find it funny, too.”

I playfully swatted his shoulder.

“Is Mark also joining us for dinner?”

“No.”


Daniel didn’t even pause to think before he replied.

I playfully swatted his shoulder.

Mark and Daniel had known each other since their twenties, but they weren’t close anymore.

Sometimes Mark showed up at barbecues. They called each other on their birthdays, and they borrowed each other’s tools.


Their friendship had become the kind built mostly on history.

I never thought much about it.

They weren’t close anymore.

At six thirty, Maya walked through the front door with Evan.


My first thought was that he looked terrified.

My second was that I understood why Maya had warned us.

Evan was thin and very pale, with dyed black hair that fell past his jaw. His fingernails were painted black. Dark eyeliner framed his eyes, and tattoos covered most of his left forearm.

I understood why Maya had warned us.


He’d completed the look with black boots, black jeans, and a faded band shirt.

He looked like the exact kind of boy nervous parents complained about before discovering he volunteered at an animal shelter.

Maya held his hand.

“Mom, Dad, this is Evan.”


Daniel stared at him for a long time, then his eyes suddenly widened. He stood so quickly that his chair fell over.

He looked like the exact kind of boy nervous parents complained about.

“No.”

Maya blinked.


“What?”

Daniel pointed at Evan.

“He needs to leave. Immediately.”

I laughed. I thought he was joking, until I saw the look on his face.

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