[ WP ] A teenage girl is embarrassed when her father and boyfriend get along .

She finally brought Tony home after two weeks of curious parental suggestion. 
 
 “ Just for a little something to eat, ” they said. “ Nothing too fancy. ” 
 Janet wasn ’ t too keen but upon asking her boyfriend who casually said * “ yea, sure, ” * as he does for everything, she figured *why not, maybe it won ’ t be too bad. * 
 
 
 The doorbell rang, and 47 year old Mr Wright climbed up from his leather sofa to answer the door, despite a shriek from upstairs and heavy footsteps loudening down the staircase. Mr Wright opened the door to the cold frosty night. A thick-coated young man was rustling his hands together. 
 
 “ Hello. ” 
 
 “ Hey, you must be Mr Wright? ” asked Tony. He pointed at the man with a squint of the eye. 
 
 “ I am, ” said the father, smiling. “ And I ’ m never Mr Wrong. ” 
 
 Young Tony burst into adolescent laughter, a fresh exciting roar booming from his lungs, an eagerness foreign to this household mostly full of women. A twinkle careened across the father ’ s eyes. He readjusted his glasses. His daughter bustled past him and grabbed Tony by the sleeve. 
 
 “ I ’ m sorry! He ’ s always like this, ” said Janet. She rolled her eyes and flicked her golden hair over her shoulder in teenage seduction. She planted a daring kiss under the warm yellow light of the porch. Tony received it awkwardly, still with strong eye contact with Mr Wright. 
 
 “ Oh do come inside! ” insisted his wife, from the landing. The two young lovers stepped through the wide open door, hustling pass the tall frame of Mr Wright. Janet rolled her eyes again. 
 
 “ Here I ’ ll take your coat, Tony, ” said the mother. She was bustling around, half-stripping the young boy herself in some mad rush to get everything perfect. A sigh of frustration arose from Janet ’ s ruby red lips. 
 
 Upon taking off his coat, Tony paused, and turned his dark featured face to the side like he was watching a comet in the midnight sky. 
 
 “ Is that… ” he said, pointing again with his long fingers. “ Is that, David Bowie? ” He was all pointing and squinting, a mysterious young man with a bulky torso full of confidence. 
 
 “ Yes! ” screamed the father. The strange new youthfulness of his voice made his wife smile awkwardly. “ Are you a fan? ” 
 
 Tony finished taking his coat off and revealed below the slightly snow-dotted jacket a picture of Ziggy Stardust with wild hair and all. He pointed to his shirt with those twinkling fingertips. 
 
 “ I love him, ” he said, beaming with a huge teethy grin. The father glanced at the white untouched purity of his teeth, remembering from his youth his friend Brian who had the same beautiful snowy teeth. 
 
 “ At last! ” laughed Mr Wright. “ Someone who appreciates good music! ” 
 
 Janet was huffing and rolling her teenage eyes with attitude, pulling Tony into the living room down the heater-infested corridor. The mother and father shared content smiles. Mrs Wright opened her mouth to talk but before she could form any words her husband had eagerly jumped down the corridor too. 
 
 In the living room, where the other three sisters reposed reading beauty magazines and swiping on iPhones, Janet lead Tony to the big arm chair next to the quiet television. An animal documentary was on, the yellow blur of a cheetah chasing down a zebra. The father followed them, a big grin on his stubbled face. 
 
 “ How was your drive? ” asked lip-biting Janet. 
 
 “ Is this Bowie ’ s greatest hits? ” asked Tony. 
 
 “ Yea it is, this particular vinyl. I do have each individual album on – “ 
 
 “ Did you say *vinyl? * ” asked Tony. His eyes were lit up like church candles. Mr Wright could feel that long lost feeling of being interesting, of having someone appreciate him and the things he loves. He was alive inside, blood pumping throughout his previously sterile body. 
 
 “ I did, ” he said. “ I have hundreds upstairs. ” 
 
 “ Can I see? ” 
 
 Tony licked his upper lip. Mr Wright squinted, darkly, secretly biting the inside of his lip, clenching his fists ever so slightly behind his back, breathing heavily through his nose. 
 
 “ Of course. ” 
 
 The two men leaped up and almost chased each other up the stairs, with heavy footsteps, sounding like a horse trampling it ’ s way to the second floor. Janet stared at her mother, who was frozen at the doorway, her hair still moving from the breeze created by the two enthusiastic males. 
 
 “ He ’ ll be back, ” whispered the smiling mother. She went back in the kitchen and put on some oven gloves. 
 
 - 
 
 It had been twenty minutes and no music had been played. In the end, Janet climbed upstairs on careful tiptoes, holding onto the railing for extra support, holding her breath in tightly pressed lips, hearing thuds on the carpeted floor that made her heart simply stop beating. She gulped at the top of the stairs. 
 
 It was the slow long creak of the door being gently pushed open that forced them to stop and both turn around to see Janet ’ s wide blue eyes gawking at them, Tony standing wearing only his David Bowie t-shirt and her dad, his glasses-less face, peering from behind Tony ’ s waist, wiping his mouth with the back of his fingers. 

