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Chapter 20
Ali
Itwastimetoface the music. I’d put it off longer than I should have. Still, I put it off a few extra minutes as I sat in my car in my parents’ driveway. Though I’d already broken the silence with my mother, it had only been to finalize arrangements for me to stay at their house with Emily over while they traveled to London for a concert. I’d agreed to do it months before and had forgotten all about it. It said a lot about our parents that Emily wasn’t even upset that they were gone for Christmas.
The front door to the massive house opened, and Emily gestured for me to come inside already. She shot me a strange look, as if I’d grown a third arm instead of simply hiding in my car. Okay, okay, I was being a coward. I’d never enjoyed spending time with my mother, and it was only going to be more awkward since it had been so long and so much had happened.
My mother and stepfather were already sitting at the dining room table when I walked in. “Finally,” my mother said with a huff. “The food is getting cold.”
She didn’t cook because she’d never bothered to learn—it would have taken time away from her music. They had someone come in a few nights a week and cook meals or had food delivered. It looked like that evening’s meal had been delivered from a fancy restaurant.
Hello to you, too, Mother.“You could have gotten started without me.”
“That would be rude.” She shot a scathing look at Emily. “Napkin in your lap, please.”
Emily complied then rolled her eyes as soon as my mother wasn’t looking. I wished I’d had her attitude when I was her age. My mother didn’t seem to get under her skin. Hell, I was an adult, and she still got under my skin.
“So, Alison,” my stepfather said. He and my mother were the only ones who called me by my full name. “You’ve been doing some traveling recently, correct?”
You might call it that.That was his roundabout way of prompting me to talk aboutSing Battle. My stepfather wasn’t a bad guy, just blind where my mother was concerned. He was a classical music buff and in awe of her—he didn’t see her clearly. That actually worked to her benefit—someone who saw her for what she was wouldn’t put up with her.
“You know I was onSing Battle.” I didn’t want to play the game of dancing around the issue. “Thanks for your support, by the way. I’m sure you all voted for me, right?”
My mother slammed her open hand on the table, shocking the hell out of me. She babied her hands and didn’t participate in any activities that might damage them. “Alison, that was uncalled for.”
I was still reeling from what had happened with Trenton and didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her in a civil manner. “You didn’t once call to wish me luck.”
Her nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes at me. “And you didn’t bother telling us you were on the show.”
“Because I knew you would do just what you’re doing now!” I exploded. “Look down your nose at me, like you always do.”
My family was silent, seeming startled by my outburst. I’d kept it bottled up for years, and I simply couldn’t do it anymore. I was sorry my sister had to witness my breakdown, though. She’d always looked up to me, but that was probably about to change.
“Alison,” my stepfather said gently, “I think that’s a little harsh.”
“It’s not, and you know it,” I shot back.
He exchanged a look with my mother then looked at Emily, who’d been watching the interaction with fascination. “Grab your plate, honey. We’ll eat in the kitchen and give them some space.”
“Aw, come on. This seems like a family discussion, so shouldn’t—”
“Emily,” my stepfather said sternly, “that wasn’t a request.”
With a huff, my sister snagged another roll before following him out of the room.
My mother and I stared at each other, the silence a third presence in the room. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t mean to look down my nose at you.”
I blinked, mentally rewinding to make sure I’d heard her correctly. “But you admit you do it.”
“It might come across that way, yes. But it’s only because I want what’s best for you. You’re selling yourself short with that silly music. You’re so much better than that.”
I took a moment to process her words. It was as if she’d taken an insult and wrapped it in praise. It was the praise part that gave me pause. I didn’t know what to do with it because I couldn’t recall ever having received it from her.
Clearly uncomfortable, she cleared her throat. “I watched you on that show.”
“You did?” I sounded shocked because I was.
“Well, not every episode, but most of them. And I stand by my opinion that you’re selling yourself short. The only song that was worthy of your talent was ‘Phantom.’”
