“Please don’t lie to me. I know you keep them all the way in the back of the freezer.”
I got up from the kitchen table and opened the freezer door. I took out a beer and gave it to him.
“If you’re going to die, you might as well die on your own terms,” I said.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Clarissa. Are you practicing your lines?” Grandpa asked.
“No, Grandpa. But how was my delivery?”
My grandpa took a pause.
“I must admit, that sounded pretty good.”
“Oh, please, that was mediocre at best,” my mom chimed in.
I turned my attention to my mom. She knew how to get under my skin. I knew she was lying. She just didn’t want me to go to New York.
“Hate much, Mom?” I shot back.
“Acting is a crazy gamble. You need something stable,” she said.
My grandpa took a sip of his very cold beer and made a face.
He had a brain freeze.
“Stop being an ass, dear,” Grandpa said to my mom. My mom didn’t look too happy with his comment. “I’m surprised you treat Clarissa like that. I never stopped you from trying to achieve your crazy dreams of becoming a jazz singer.”
Mom, a jazz singer? Wow, I never knew.
“You decided to marry your loser husband, and I never stopped you. So stop trying to crush Clarissa’s dream,” he said sternly.
“Fine, fine. Your delivery was good, Clarissa,” my mom admitted.
I knew she was lying when she said she didn’t like my acting.
I looked at both of them with gratitude.
“I’m leaving for New York!” I announced.
Both of them were shocked. My grandpa sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table; my mother soon followed and sat in the other. I stood in front of both of them. Grandpa looked happy, my mom looked worried, and I was terrified I had made that decision in the spur of the moment.
“I’m happy to hear you’ve made your decision,” Grandpa said. He looked at his drink and smiled.
My mom looked more worried as the moments passed.
“What am I supposed to do without your help, Clarissa?” She shook her head. “You know your father is of no help.”
“I do. I definitely do—” I said.
I felt uncomfortable, like I was never going to be free from this invisible cage. But, thankfully, Grandpa came to my aid.
“I’ll help out, darling,” Grandpa said to my mom. “My pension from Moretti kicked in a few months back, and now that I’m old enough, I can access my retirement account.”
I hated the name Moretti. My grandfather had worked for the Moretti family all his life, collecting debt for their loan shark business here in Jersey. I knew all about their so-called businesses.
“Why have you kept that a secret?” my mom asked. “You know I’ve been struggling; my husband is out of work, and now Clarissa wants to abandon me.”
My mom was being overdramatic. I guess she’s who I learned it from. Her acting was A+.
