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God, the tension was almost unbearable, but I was already taking the on-ramp to independence—might as well press on the gas pedal.
“I auditioned yesterday for a record label. If I’m chosen, I would be a backup singer for a big-name artist and may have the opportunity to tour with them. Of course, I’d have to decide if that’s what I want to do.” At the very least, I’d like to find out who I’d be singing with, the schedule, and what it paid.
“Is there anything you have managed to make up your mind about?”
I bristled. “Yes. I’m not moving home, I’m not attending business school, and most of all, I’m not going to feel guilty for no longer wanting what you do.”
“You have no plan, no money, and absolutely no idea what you’re doing with your future.”
“I know, and I’m okay with that. I have plenty of options, and I’m twenty-two, so if I don’t like the first few, I’ll try some others.”
“What options? A backup singer gig that may or may not happen?”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you. I love you both, and I feel terrible about the timing, but I’m leaving for Bali on Sunday night with a volunteer program to teach English and music abroad. I’ll be gone a few weeks, and when I get back, I’ll decide what I want to do next.”
I’d never witnessed an occasion where my mother appeared this shocked. Even my father seemed astonished.
“How did this come about?” my dad asked.
I recapped my volunteer work at the children’s hospital and the interest in travel. My mom was listening but said nothing.
“I’m glad Mark vetted it, and it sounds like a great opportunity.”
My mother glared at him. “Sounds like an excuse to avoid real responsibility, not to mention a way to avoid ever having a career or make good money.”
I was absolutely done fighting with her and trying to do so respectfully when it was clear she wasn’t giving me the same courtesy. I scooted my chair back abruptly, the angry sound unfamiliar in this dining room, and stood up to address her. “Money and career don’t motivate me. I want to be happy in what I’m doing, and volunteering with kids gives me that. You don’t have to agree with my decisions, Mom, or understand what inspires me, but it would be nice if you’d be supportive. And if you can’t manage that, then we have nothing left to say. I won’t be held hostage to the worry I’m going to disappoint you any longer. Life is too short.”
She clenched her jaw, stood up, and left the room.
My father smiled sympathetically. “She’ll come around eventually, kiddo. In the meantime, let’s clear the dishes, then go have a drink and watch the baseball game on TV.”
* * *
The next morning,despite having a slight hangover due to drinking scotch with my dad the night before, I donned my running attire and set out for a jog. I wasn’t one hundred percent yet, but my ankle was certainly starting to feel better as I eased back into my running routine with the help of a good brace.
I wondered what I’d do about staying in the house. Obviously, I could continue to do so, but the tension this morning when I’d simply entered the kitchen with my mother already there was unbearable. She wasn’t speaking to me at all. Brian had texted me this morning offering to pay for a hotel room or there was always the option of calling up one of my high school friends and ask to stay with them. But in the end, it would be easiest if I sucked it up and ignored my mother the way my father seemed to be doing.
Passing the Singer estate on my way back, I smiled at Patricia, Colby and Josh’s Mom, who was out getting the morning paper at the end of her driveway.
“Hi, honey. How are you?” she greeted.
As I took out my earbuds, I felt genuinely happy to see her. She’d always been kind to me over the years, and it made me feel closer to Colby to talk to his mom. “I’m good.” I protested when she went to hug me, “Oh, no, I’m sweaty.”
She did it anyhow. “As if I care, you gorgeous girl. Everything all right?”
I’d never had the sort of mom who could ask that simple question and make you want to bare your soul to her. Have her hold you in an embrace and simply cry on her shoulder. Mrs. Singer was that type of mom, but considering most of my tears were over her son, I shrugged it off.
“Yeah, it’s all good. Are you looking forward to Sunday?”
She beamed. “I’m biased, but I think my granddaughter is about the most precious thing on the planet.” Her eyes assessed me. “You sure everything is okay at home?”
I realized she might already know about my parent’s separation and felt my smile slip. “It’s fine.”
“Why don’t you come in for a few minutes? I put on some coffee, and it would be nice to catch up.”
“I should probably get back to shower and—”
She wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Nonsense. Come on. It gets lonely sometimes in that big old house.”
