Chronicle III | A Run In With the Parents

Angela DiGiovanni | Author of The Virgin Wife ChroniclesShortly after the “I love you”, we accidently spent the night together.

The loft in Chad’s parent’s house was a haven for us, where we spent a lot of our time, undisturbed.  His parents trusted us and kept to themselves downstairs and his brother was away at school.  Many great conversations took place in that loft – and in the years to come, a lot of fights and a lot of making up and making out.

On Saturday night we were up there laying on the L-shaped sofa, me on one limb of the L, he on the other, both on our tummies with our heads and books connected.  We were studying Greek.  Yes, we were studying Greek.

We had bought ourselves Greek workbooks – a ‘learn on your own’ kind of deal.  Both very meticulous and particular, using separate papers, we carved out our Greek alphabet over and over until our lines were perfect.  Then we wrote it out into our books’ practice pages.

greek workbook pageGreek workbook page
greek alphabet

my Greek alphabet with our names top right

Perhaps it was a sign of things to come – a need to project a perfect image, a perfect marriage to the rest of the world, before we actually wrote it into our marriage.

Our hope was to be able to read and understand Greek, so that we could come closer to understanding the true meaning of the New Testament.  Which, we concluded, would further enrich our lives.

While totally engaged for hours into the night in our lofty goal, Chad had fallen asleep first, his head on top of his book.  I figured I would just take a quick nap until he woke up, so that he could be more refreshed driving me home.

What I never would have figured is that he would wake up, put a blanket over me on the couch, and go to his bedroom to finish sleeping for the night.  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he defended.

I woke up with sheer panic.  Oh my gosh, we are SO busted, I thought.  Chad’s parents are going to kill us first, and my parents will kill us next.  I woke him up early that Sunday morning, still in time for us to make it to church with our families if he took me home right then.

I tried silently creeping down the stairs to wait for him outside.  It was less likely that I would be seen or heard out there.  Maybe his parents will never even know I stayed over. But alas, I was greeted by none other than Chad’s dad right at the bottom of the stairs.

It was almost a collision.  He walked in from the garage door just as I got to the bottom step.  While my heart beat out of my chest, Chad’s dad cheerfully said, “Hey Ang!” with a grin from ear-to-ear.

“Hi,” I barely audibly squeaked out.

That’s it, Hey Ang? In half relief and half bewilderment, I sat down on the bottom step and waited for Chad to hurry up.


“We didn’t do anything wrong.  He knows that – he trusts us.” Chad assured me.  “Why are you so scared?”

“Because I spent the night at your house!  I’m 16.  You are 20!”

He spent the rest of the drive back to my house reminding me that we have nothing to be ashamed of because we did nothing wrong.  And that if my parents couldn’t understand that then it was their problem.  If they wanted to jump to the worst conclusion then they should be ashamed of themselves.  Just because something looked a certain way, didn’t mean it was that way.

It was like a comedy of errors, though more horror than comedy.  First running into (almost literally) Chad’s dad, and then our car ready to pull into the driveway right when my parents were pulling out of the garage.  My dad rolled down the window and freaked.  I can’t remember what he said, but I do remember mustering up all the courage I had in me trying to boldly announce, “Don’t jump to the worst conclusion.  Just because something looks a certain way, doesn’t mean it was that way.”

They drove off in a fury to make it to church on time.

to be continued…

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