Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Mom, no. Not interested.”
“You knew he’d object,” Dad said with a chuckle. “He’s fine. Let him be.”
“I just want him to be happy,” Mom replied in an exasperated tone.
I carefully chewed a roasted carrot. “And I can’t be happy unless I’m in a relationship?”
“You know what I mean.” She huffed. “You deserve the best life has to offer.”
“Exactly. So why should I settle?” Mom was never satisfied. When I was in a relationship, she’d ask about marriage and kids. And though I wanted all that too, her hovering made me want it a bit less. “I’m okay being single for a while. Besides, I have a friend staying—”
Shit, why’d I say that? I shoved a forkful of potato in my mouth, hoping she hadn’t heard that part. I’d wanted to ease into the Skylar conversation differently, like maybe right before I left tonight, or next week at work. And yeah, I was absolutely stalling.
“What friend?” Dad asked, and I sighed.
Well, here goes nothing. Let’s rip off the Band-Aid all at once.
“A friend I’ve reconnected with. His apartment was in a fire, so he’s temporarily crashing at my place.”
“How terrible! Was the building up to code?” Dad asked just as Mom said, “What area of town?”
I winced. No way I’d tell them, because they’d be sure to snub their noses.
But Skylar wasn’t embarrassed, so why should I be? Still, I so didn’t want to get into all the details.
“Seems like it was up to code,” I replied to Dad’s question, and ignored Mom’s by stuffing more food in my mouth.
“Who’s the friend?” Mom asked, scrutinizing me closely. “Someone from high school?”
“No.” I set my fork down. “Actually, someone from gymnastics.”
When Mom looked away guiltily, it only made me feel more defiant, like I was channeling my younger self.
“It’s Skylar Davison.”
Mom stared as if she’d just received earth-shattering news. I almost laughed, it was so absurd. Supposed it was for the best that we were finally getting this out in the open. “Wow,” she said, “what a coincidence.”
I smirked. “Yeah, the Internet can be quite useful in helping people reconnect.”
“What am I missing?” Dad asked, because of course he wouldn’t remember. He always liked to paint a rosier view of things in our family, as if positive thinking was the cure for everything. And though it was commendable, it wasn’t always realistic. “Someone fill me in.”
“Sure, Dad. Let’s see: I was in gymnastics for two years and loved it.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Dad said indifferently as Mom remained silent.
“Then suddenly I was no longer in gymnastics.” I gritted my teeth, the same emotions so close to the surface. “No warning or anything. Just pulled me right out before the next session was about to start. I was upset about it for weeks.”
Mom shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “It wasn’t like you were practicing for the Olympics, honey. Your dad and I discussed your joining other activities so you could become a well-rounded kid.”
I laughed humorlessly as Dad concurred, as if such a conversation between them was quite reasonable.
“That’s not the point. You took away something I loved without even consulting me. You like to do that—make unilateral decisions,” I said, riled up. “And I know it comes from a good place, but I lost a good friend that I—”
“That you what?” Mom blurted out. “Had a little crush on?”
“So you knew?” I asked, and she nodded, as if her logic was perfectly sensible. My jaw clenched. “It was more than that. He and I had really bonded. And besides, what did it matter?”
“I was only trying to steer you in the right direction.”
The right direction. Code for: let’s help plan your life.
“Seriously?” I narrowed my eyes. “What exactly did you hold against them—Skylar and his mom?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head as if shocked I’d ask such a thing. “He was a nice boy, and his mom…seemed pleasant enough.”
I rolled my eyes so hard, they almost got stuck in the back of my head.
“Why are you so angry?” She patted my hand in that patronizing way that drove me insane. “I was only trying to protect you—”
“From what?” I asked, and she shrugged, either embarrassed to declare it out loud, or because she didn’t understand it herself.
“It’s always bothered me,” I admitted. “And seeing him again brought it all back to the surface.”
“Well, then I’m glad you’ve reconnected,” she replied, but I could tell by how tight she set her jaw that she didn’t mean it.
“And I’m glad you’ve cleared the air.” Dad stood with his plate to leave the table, completely oblivious, as usual.
But Mom and I stayed seated, both of us knowing the air was definitely not cleared.
“Not everyone has money or resources.” I waved my hand to indicate the ridiculous-sized house they lived in. “That doesn’t mean they’re not good or worthy. And it certainly doesn’t make them a charity case.”