FanFic - Other
"One Evening at the Evan's House"
Part 1
by MyrnaLynne
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for our own amusement, not intended for gain or to infringe on any copyrighted material held by the (great and wonderful) WB.
Summary: Mom & Dad Evans chat about their kids
Category: Other
Rating: G
Max and Isabel's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, are sitting in their living room. Mr. Evans is relaxed, reading the paper in the easy chair. Mrs. Evans is on the sofa, reading a novel from the library, but she keeps sighing and looking up at her husband, and then back at the book. Muffled pounding of rock and roll music is heard from Isabel’s room. Max and Isabel are in their rooms, doing their homework. Mrs. Evans sighs again, fiddles absentmindedly with a strand of her blonde hair, and shuts the book on her lap.

“I'm worried about Max,” she says to the back of her husband’s newspaper, “He hasn’t been himself lately.”

Mr. Evans lowers the paper and looks at her, “Well, honey, high school can be a difficult time for teenagers - especially boys.” He grins at her, remembering his own high school days.

“But he seems so... tense and distracted now,” she continues seriously, “more secretive and mysterious than ever.”

“It couldn’t have anything to do with that girl, Liz, could it?” he teased, smiling.

She smiled too, “Oh, she’s a lovely girl... you don’t know how happy I am that Max is finally taking an interest in girls... but”

“I told you not to worry, honey. Max is just shy, a late bloomer. He’ll be fine.” He glances back at the paper.

“But Max is so serious for someone so young. Isabel has always been more popular and outgoing. She seems to have more fun in her life...”

“And you also worried about THAT, too,” he reminded her. “Not that I blame you. Who would’ve thought that skinny little bit of a thing would have turned out nearly as pretty as her mother.”

She returns his smile and blushes. “Not that I can take any of the credit.”

“Yep,” he says, continuing his thought, “high school is tough on boys. But it’s murder on a pretty girl’s father!” He shakes his head. “The way that girl dresses sometimes, I don’t want to let her out of the house.”

“But she has you wrapped around her little finger,” she says, smiling.

He sighs. “Can’t keep her daddy’s little girl forever, gotta let her grow up. But damn, it’s not easy.”

She nods, looking serious, “I know, dear. I hate to think of them ever going away - growing up and leaving us.”

“I know. But that’s life - that’s what you raise >em for, to get out on their own someday.”

They are both quiet and a little sad, thinking about their children approaching adulthood so quickly - where did the time go? They return to their reading, but Mrs. Evans is still troubled.

“I’m worried about Michael, too. I’m not sure he’s such a good influence on Max,” she says.

“Honey, what are you talking about? They’ve been best friends since they were little kids.”

“I know.. it’s just that...” She trails off.

“Sure, he hasn’t had the advantages our kids have had, but... I think he’s basically a good kid. Besides, Max is so level-headed, he won’t let Michael get him into any trouble,” he adds confidently.

“I hope you're right,” she says uneasily, “It’s just that... Well, with Hank’s drinking and all... it wouldn’t surprise me if Michael got into trouble with liquor or drugs... He’s so sullen and rebellious lately... he’s got so much anger.”

“Oh, sure, he’s gotten into a scrape or two, but he was younger then. And Hank does give the boy pretty free rein.”

She sniffs and mutters, “I’ve seen wild mustangs on a tighter lead.” She tries another tack, “I think Isabel seems kind of sweet on him, too - that’s another reason to worry. Do you really want Michael Guerin for a son-in-law?”

He puts the paper down and stares at her, amazed, “What are you talking about? She’s only 16! And besides, he’s like a brother to her. He’s at our house more than his own.. not that you can blame him..”

She nods and smiles, remembering, AI can’t count the times I’ve gone in to check on Max at night, and there’s Michael, asleep on the floor in a sleeping bag.”

“And Isabel argues with him even more than she does with Max,” he adds. “They’re like cats and dogs sometimes.” He chuckles, and shakes his head. “Son-in-law!” he says to himself, “Where do women get these ideas?”

She looks embarrassed, and says “I guess you’re right.”

"You’ve said yourself we’ve been lucky. Our kids are smart, healthy - never been sick a day in their lives - Max is turning into a good-looking boy, Isabel is a beauty but, more importantly, they’re both good kids. We’ve got to trust that they’ll turn out all right got to trust them.”

“I guess it’s that car wreck Max lying in that hospital. You had to go get him a Jeep! He’s only 16! We could’ve lost him!” Her eyes fill up, thinking about it.

“It was an accident - a wild horse ran onto the road. It could’ve happened to anyone. Accidents happen, honey, you know that. Though I guess he could’ve been paying more attention to that girl Liz than to his driving.” He smiles, remembering tooling around in his old convertible when he was around Max’s age. “He came out of it okay.”

“Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him, if he’d been badly hurt.” Her mouth trembles, and she stops.

Mr. Evans gets up and comes over and sits beside her on the sofa. “Honey, the good Lord entrusted them into our hands, and He’s watched over them ever since. We put our trust in Him when we adopted them. It’s never easy raising kids... there’s no guarantees.”

She sniffs back the tears before they fall and nods, AI know, dear. I’m sorry I’m being silly. We’ve been luckier than most.”

“Yeh, they’re great kids.”

“And all the women’s magazines say teenage years are the hardest,” she sighed.

“They’ve got that right don’t know who it’s harder for, though, the kids or their folks.” He chuckles, gives her a kiss, and picks up his newspaper again.

“Still,” she frets, “They are so different from most of the kids around here, don’t you think?”

“Yep,” Mr. Evans agreed, smiling, but not looking up from his paper. “That’s because they’re ours and they’re way better.”

“Oh, you!” she laughs, and shaking her head, returns to her book.

- Fini -

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