Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

When Joanne met Greg’s parents, his father walked up and reached for her hand, saying ‘We’re your in-laws’ before Greg could introduce them.  Joanne’s hand went limp;  she and Greg had gone out on only three dates, four if she counted their original meeting at a friend’s birthday party.
       
   Greg quickly explained, ‘You know parents - always trying to get their kids married’, but he smiled as though he wasn’t as bothered by it as other men in their early twenties might be.  Greg’s father, grinning at his mistake, nodded some six or eight times.
      
   The next day Joanne called Michelle, the friend who introduced Greg at her party.  ‘Remind me again how you know him’, Joanne said.
      
    ‘Actually, I don’t.  I’d just met him that night.  I think he’s a friend of John’s.  I’ll call him and get back to you’.
      
    On the fifth date, not counting the night they met, Greg proposed.  Holding hands, they stood on the bluff in Corona del mar and looked down at the Pacific sweeping in on the shore below.  ‘Marry me’, Greg murmured, and Joanne was not sure whether it was a command, a question, or, if possible, both.
      
   ‘I’m sorry’, Joanne replied softly.  ‘I don’t know you well enough to say yes - and besides, I’m just starting med school.  I don’t see myself marrying before I finish’.
    
    He didn’t call the next day, he didn’t return her message the day after that, and when she called again a week later, she reached a disconnect notice.  ‘That counts as the strangest relationship I’ve ever been in’, Joanne told Michelle, who never figured out who brought Greg to her party.
      
   Some months later, Joanne drove up to Bergamot Station in Santa Monica:  a round of art galleries would provide some much-needed respite from exam anxiety.  As she was walking up, she saw Greg’s parents ahead of her and halted.  His father was just the same, even wearing the same white windbreaker and khakis as he had when she last saw him.  What could she say?  They would certainly see her, and if she ignored him, they might tell Greg of it, and she felt bad about his apparent disappointment as it was.
      
   When she approached, his parents turned to face her, but did not speak.  She suspected they were a little angry with her.  ‘Hello again’, she said as warmly as possible.  ‘How is Greg doing?’

   ‘Greg?  Greg who?’ his father asked.