I was going to strangle her. Right in front of Rob, I was going to strangle my mother. Except he stopped me by asking a simple question.
“Have you read her articles? They’re terrific. She did a piece on one school’s choice to divert art funding to the after-school program. It got a lot of people talking, and they’re re-examining the budget thanks to her.”
I stared at him. “How did you know about that?” It was published weeks before we’d gotten back together.
He shrugged. “We weren’t together all the time. I did a search for your byline.”
And wow. I didn’t think I could get all soft and gooey in the middle of this conversation, but the idea that he’d read my articles and knew about this piece set my heart to pounding. It wasn’t even my favorite of my work, but it had been important. At least to the kids who wanted art supplies.
Which is when my mother surprised me.
“Yes, yes, of course we do.” Then she grabbed a photo album that had sticky pages to press in pictures. It had been sitting on the end table beside the Wall of Accomplishments, and she started paging through it immediately, showing Rob every single article that had my byline. Every one of them had been meticulously cut out and pressed into those pages, and I hadn’t even known about it. “We have all of Heidi’s writings here,” she said. “There are more upstairs in her bedroom, but those are school papers. Not published writings like this.”
“You must be very proud,” Rob said.
“Yes, yes. She is a smart girl, our Heidi.”
And the weird thing was that I could see it was true. My father, too. They both looked at that photo album in the same way they gazed at the pictures of my brothers when they’d gotten their MDs. And at my father’s Excellence award. Even my grandfather’s university picture with him in his robes.
They were just as proud of me as they were everyone else. And I hadn’t really done anything yet.
“So you understand?” I asked. “You see that I need to be a journalist? Not a lawyer?”
“Aiya, no, I do not understand,” my mother cried. “But you like to argue.” She ran a hand over a piece I’d written about the school board elections. “I suppose you can argue with the politicians, too? Tell them not to cut school funding.”
“Um, yes. That’s the idea.”
My mother nodded, then turned to the kitchen. “I will go make tea.” It’s what she did when she wanted to think about something. Fortunately, that meant she was thinking and not arguing.
My father wasn’t nearly as easy. He had been staring at me this whole time with a tight frown. But when I turned to face him, not even blinking at his heavy stare, he finally relented. “I suppose we could tell your grandfather that you decided not to go to UCLA. Much better to turn down a fine school for something better.”
Right. Except I hadn’t applied, so I wasn’t turning down anything. Then suddenly his lips quirked in a small smile.
“We will say that it is because lawyers come too late.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The world does not change in a courtroom. It changes first in people’s hearts and minds. That is what a journalist does. It shows people what is wrong first. Then the lawyers come later.” He nodded as if that answered everything. “You will go first and lead. Let the lawyers follow later.”
And with that, he followed my mother back into the kitchen, presumably for some tea. And I stood there shocked at how easy that had been. Or not so easy because my heart was still pounding and despite everything, I found my fingers entwined with Rob’s. I had needed to hold on to him and he had let me. In fact his grip was so strong that I felt supported even though it was just his fingers.
“Your parents seem very nice,” he said in a low voice.
“Um…yeah. I guess they are.”
“They surprised you, didn’t they?”
“Um, yeah. They did.” They weren’t done, of course. There would still be worry and hand-wringing about how to explain this to my aunts who were the real gossip biddies in the family. But my father had already gotten his mind wrapped around a way. And whatever bumps lay ahead, they were mostly on board with my decision.
Which was a miracle of epic proportions. The only larger miracle was having Rob show up at my parents’ house.
“Speaking of surprises,” I said as I turned to him. “What are you doing here? Why would you miss your game?”
He flushed and looked down at our hands. I should have let him go, but I just couldn’t make my fingers release his. “I had to see you before you left for California.”
“I’m not going to California.”
“I know that now, but it doesn’t matter. I had to see you again. I had to say I’m a total dick. I never should have let you leave. And I never should have agreed to that Brittany thing.”
