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Mom paused. “The really rundown building?”
Dad took her hand. “Honey, take a breath. She’s our college girl now. She’s not in pigtails anymore.”
Mom ripped her hand away. “I know that.”
I leaned forward and kissed Mom on her cheek. While I was a Daddy’s girl, I knew Mom was struggling more with this than most. I knew it was a culture thing, too. With my father being Korean, he understood the value of letting children go when it came to their education. Being thankful for their grown-up state and encouraging them to reach for the stars. It’s what his parents wanted for him, and that was how he was raised.
My mother, on the other hand, was a typical American helicopter parent.
“Take before and after pictures for your mother. You know she’ll like that,” Dad said.
I smiled. “I wouldn't have it any other way. You can give us some design tips, Mom.”
“Oh! That would be lovely. Are you allowed to paint the walls?” she asked.
“Oh, boy,” Dad murmured.
I snickered. “I don’t think we can paint the walls, no.”
“What about pictures? Can you hang pictures?”
“I think the walls are painted cement blocks. So that might be hard.”
Mom’s eyes bulged. “Cement blocks. Okay. Great.”
I threw my head back in laughter as the smile plastered on her face slid slowly into an expression of disgust. With my mother being the forefront interior designer of our town, I could only imagine the horrors rushing through her head right now.
“Hey, it could be worse,” Dad said.
“Don’t you say it,” Mom glowered.
“She could h
ave shiplap scuffed up underneath some molded carpet.”
“You said it! Why would you say it!? You monster.”
I laughed until tears crested my eyes as my parents kissed in the front seat.
I took naps in the back seat until we finally made it to campus. I mean, we didn’t get there until almost nine o’clock at night. But we made it and we were alive. Most everyone else had already shooed their parents away so they could go do other things on campus. I texted Hannah as we pulled onto campus. I heard music coming from one of the dorm buildings and groups of students were rushing around in packs to and from the cafeteria. The University of Michigan firmly welcomed me back with its newly-installed lit-up sign and directional arrows pointing me to my dorm.
As if I didn’t already know where to go.
“Finally!” Hannah squealed.
I threw the Range Rover door open and leapt into my best friend’s arms.
“Oh, I missed you so much over the summer,” I murmured.
“We have to drop your stuff and get dinner. I want to tell you all about Europe,” she said.
The revving of an engine caught my attention and I pulled away from Hannah. As the two of us held hands, I felt someone wrap their arm around my shoulder. I looked up at my father as we all stared out toward the main road, watching as a couple of lamp posts flickered with the need for a new bulb.
“What’s that racket?” Mom asked.
“Motorcycles, I think,” Dad said.
The rumbling got louder. Bigger. Stronger. I felt my ribcage shaking as a motorcycle peeled around the corner. There was a group of them. A large group of them. I counted four. Five. Seven. Eleven.
