Page 55 of The Last Special Thing

Lauren’s voice was low. “By choice. You could have dinner with your dad and me. You didn’t join me for coffee. You’ve been so distant, and I don’t know why.” The last word came out as a pout.

“You don’t know why?” Amelia gave a hollow laugh. “How about because when I’m around you, you’re so critical.”

“Critical?” Lauren’s eyebrows pulled together.

“Yes! You're constantly on me about my appearance and what I’m eating and Pilates and needing to do a skin care routine and whatever else.”

Lauren scoffed. “Honey, that’s not critical, that’s care. What I wouldn’t have given to have my mom take me to get my eyebrows done in middle school before a classmate told me they were bushy. I do all of this, pay for all this,” she gestured up and down Amelia, “because I care. You have every opportunity in the world to be-”

“Your clone,” Amelia cut in.

Lauren leaned back, smug. “You want a life where you can choose to work, not be forced to? Do you want to vacation abroad? You want a boat on the bay?”

Amelia’s eyes scanned hers. All of those things were what she wanted, but without being forced into it.

The server placed their meals in front of them and brushed away.

When she was out of earshot, Lauren continued, “You want a life like mine. I wish I could clone my life and give it to you. It all happens when you find a good husband. It’s the most important decision you’ll make in your life, and it’s not going to be with the guy that gets you too drunk to get home.” She picked up her fork and took a bite of salad.

Amelia couldn’t find a response. To her parents, the most important thing was attracting a husband who would provide for her. She tried to think of a comeback. That she could take care of herself. How Art didn’t force her to drink last night.

“Did I tell you I have this new private coaching client?” Lauren asked between bites.

The moment for a response had been swept under the rug. The Cox approach to conflict.

“No?” Amelia pushed her spoon into her açaí bowl.

“She was going to the regular class, but she’s four months pregnant. We’ve been able to make good modifications for her.”

Amelia’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, ignoring her mom’s narrowing eyes.

Art

How do you feel about raves?

Amelia

Those are the places where you dress up and dance?

Art

Among other things.

Amelia

I’m down.

Art

Cool, it’s on Saturday.

She smiled up at Lauren. “Just so you know, I won’t be home on Saturday night. You don’t need to wait up for me.”

She would be doing things her way, not Lauren’s.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Afew days later, Amelia lay on the tanning shelf of the pool. The summer rays warmed her skin as the Honey Cat demo played from her phone. Straining to listen, she isolated the drum sound from the other instruments to focus on Art’s contribution. She rubbed the Honey Cat logo on her bracelet, smiling at the memory. Her boyfriend, the one-day rock star drummer. She sent him a text.