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“Oh good,” my mom said breathlessly, as if she’d been aching for permission to stop ringing her hands.
“The trek to base camp is much safer,” my dad said. “Assuming your body can handle the decrease in oxygen. Some people can’t, you know. It’s biology. Nothing to do with how prepared you are.”
“I’m not climbing Everest,” I said, frustration invading my tone. “I’m staying put in Chicago. And I’m too busy with work to spend my weekends running up and down the landfills on the Wisconsin border wearing a weighted backpack.”
“You don’t have to get defensive,” my dad said.
“Yeah,” my mom added. “We were only trying to be supportive.”
Christ. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I appreciate that."
“I know you have a life there, honey,” she said, like she didn’t believe I had a life at all. “But if you hate the cold so much, you could always come out here.”
“At least for a visit,” my dad said. “Would be nice to see you.”
“I miss you guys, too,” I said, deciding not to waste my breath explaining why I needed seasons. To each their own and everything, but being warm and cozy all year made people soft in a way I didn’t want to be soft. Plus, for as much as I detested winter, fall and spring inspired me, and inspiration was pretty much all that mattered to me these days. Besides The Third Policeman. And Otis. And those snotty-nosed kids at the Y whose enthusiasm for learning guitar was the highlight of my week. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can make it out to see you until next year.”
They laughed. “Good one,” my dad said.
“We’ll look forward to that,” my mom added.
“Well. Happy New Year, guys.” I pulled the heavy alley door open. “Have some grapes for me.”
I shoved my phone in my pocket and made my way back down the narrow hall, passing the bathrooms on my left and the door to the beer garden on my right. As soon as I entered the main room, Brian appeared and shoved a plunger at me.
“I thought it was Jimmy’s turn?”
“He’s restringing Sheila, and we’re running out of time.”
“But I’m The Talent,” I joked, my expression drooping.
“I appreciate that, Talent, but no one will enjoy your pretty voice if it stinks in here.”
I grabbed the plunger from him. “It’s times like these when I regret letting you have that extra percent.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning his back on me. “Come help me unload the dishwashers when you’re done.”
