I opened the door, removing my coat, and was met by the surprise of my life.
“Is this the time you get back home as a wife? What has my son gotten himself into?” An older woman who was looking at me with a judgy look questioned.
“Darling, let it go.” The man seated on the sofa said.
"No, I can't. I mean, look at her dress, all thighs out as a married woman. This is ridiculous.” —I had a spare outfit in the car so I changed.
“I am sorry, who are you guys?”
“Of course you are; I am Mrs. Smith Clinton’s mother, and that’s my husband, Mr. Smith.” She introduced herself, but not in a polite tone.
“I am sorry for coming late; my friend had a breakdown.” I apologized.
“Of course she did; well, my son doesn’t know, but we came to see you. Now I see why my son has been hiding you from us.”
