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“So you're in college?” She asks.
“Yes, ma'am.” It's best to be as polite as possible. “I'm in my second year, and my major is art, thanks to Gabe,” I finish.
“Thanks to Gabriel?” Camilla frowns in confusion.
“Yes, he was the one who helped me figure out what I wanted to major in, Mrs. O'Connor.”
She's still frowning, but she continues her interrogation anyway. She should have been an interrogator for the police because she's fucking intimidating. “And do you work as well?”
“No, ma'am. My parents want me to put all my focus on school, so they pay for my expenses.” That should be a good thing to say, right? Because it means I'm concentrating all my efforts on my education.
“Your parents have lots of money then?”
“Mom,” Gabe protests. “Why does that matter?”
“I only want to make sure that she's not a young, rich, spoiled brat looking for someone to take care of her when her parents decide to stop doing it for her. You're my son, Gabriel, and you often fall for girls who aren't any good for you. I only want what's best for you.”
Is she serious? This is fucking ridiculous. Gabe doesn't say a word as he stares at his mother, his mouth closed. He isn't going to say anything. The moment has come, and he's not going to mutter a damn word. I decide then and there that I'm done. The table rattles as I slam my napkin down.
“I think Gabriel,” he flinches next to me as the rage courses through me, “is old enough, as you love to point out to me, and smart enough to handle himself. I'm sorry that you have to be rude with the most ridiculous fucking questions that don't have a damn thing to do with who I am as a person.” I turn to Gabe. “And Gabe, thanks a lot for standing up for me. I can clearly see how much I mean to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my own fucking problems to deal with instead of your family.”
The sound of my chair scraping back is deafening in the room, and I stalk out of there as fast as I can.
“Ryan, wait,” Gabe pleads from behind me as I swing the front door open and keep walking.
“Don't even,” I call over my shoulder. I was right. Damn it, I was right. He's not even going to stand up for me, and I guess I shouldn't have expected him to do it. See what happens when I have stupid expectations? People fail me. At least now I know how my parents feel.
“Let me take you home.”
“No!” I yell, turning to face him.
“Ryan, I didn't say anything because-” he attempts to explain, but I don't want to hear any of it.
“Because you're a goody-two shoes who can't go up against his mother. Viv will come get me. Go enjoy your day with your family.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm taking you home.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me to his car. “And you're going to calm down, so I can talk to you,” he says, ushering me into the passenger seat before slamming the door.
I don't want to be around him, but if he needs closure, then he can have it. Let him say whatever he wants. It doesn't matter because this was a terrible idea. Another massive mistake. Gabe backs out, putting more force on the gas than necessary. Once we're on the road, he starts talking.
“Look, I didn't say anything because I was shocked by what my mom said. I've never seen her be so critical before, so I couldn't believe it. You don't need to be pissed at me because I was five seconds away from defending you before you went and made a fool of yourself.”
“You've got to be kidding me! Standing up for myself was me being a fool? What the hell did you expect to happen, Gabe? Look at me! Do you not remember what she said when she came over? Do you not remember what my own damn parents are like? I told you from the start that I am not meet-the-parents material, and there's your proof. I want to believe you, I really do, but I don't think you would have said anything to her. That's your mother, and you said so yourself that her opinion matters to you. There's her stupid, fucking opinion from hell. I don't think for a second that you would go against your family.”
My rant lasted all the way to my apartment, and I couldn't be happier to be here. I quickly get out of the car, briskly walking towards the building.
“She's being overprotective,” Gabe tries to defend from behind me.
“You're twenty-five! Do you seriously need your mother to look out for you? To protect you from me? Because that's what you're saying.” I shove the key into my door and find that it's not locked. Oh, hell no. Not today. Sure enough, my parents are inside, dragging an annoyed and frustrated groan from me. “Why the hell are y'all here? Can't y'all ever call before you come?”
“Quit being so dramatic, Ryan. It's Thanksgiving. You told us you were staying here, so we came to tell you that we've picked a degree for you,” her mother says. “We didn't know that you would be out with him.”
“I'm seriously not in the mood for this, Mom. Please come back another day.”
“Ryan,” my dad speaks up. “This is our last day in town. We rather not waste time with your silly, girly tantrums.”
What an ass! I walk in front of where they are sitting on my couch, fold my arms over my chest, and glare at them. “Well, waste no more time, because I'm majoring in art.”
Mom's mouth hangs open. “Where did that even come from? You can't be serious, Ryan. That's a terrible decision. We should have never left you here alone because you obviously can't make good, reasonable decisions. Although, I guess we should have expected as much.”
