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32
faye
As we finally reach myblock, my parents have run out of plants to admire. I milked Portland’s magic soil for all it was worth the whole walk home. I can’t even count how many times I said “Did you see that dahlia?” As such, they circle back to the topic of my failures.
“A date really would be a perfect solution to the problem,” Mom says with a resigned sigh.
“What problem is that?” I ask.
“The problem of what to do with you at Edie’s wedding.”
“You don’t have to do anything with me,” I say, pressing my fingers to my temples.“I can entertain myself just fine.”
“Well, what would you have us do?” Mom asks, ignoring me.
Dad squeezes my shoulder and steps between us.
“We’re only thinking of you, Faye Ellen,” Dad says with a placating smile. “You’re going to be surrounded by all of your old school friends, our friends from the club, all these people you haven’t seen since you left for Stanford. They’re going to ask you what you’re up to these days.”
“And I will tell them I work at a yarn shop in Portland and live with my friends.”
“And…” Mom lifts her chin, as if waiting for me to continue my explanation.
“And what?”
“Precisely.”
“I’m not following.”
“Faye Ellen, you know exactly what we’re getting at,” Mom says, her mouth tight as she speaks in her I’m-not-yelling voice. “You go away to Stanford, get accepted to a second-rate medical school, and now you’re living in a house that looks like it should be condemned and working in a yarn store named after an ungroomed hoo-hah.”
“Please never say that again,” I mumble.
“And on top of that, youryoungersister is getting married, and you can’t even find a date? And it’s not hard to see why you can’t attract a man. It doesn’t exactly look as though you’re trying to find a man.”
“That’s enough, Mom,” I say, my voice low.
“You’re going to be photographed, Faye Ellen. And compared to your sister. And all of her bridesmaids. People are going to see you, looking like this, your life being what it is…” Mom flicks her hand as if to illustrate the unspoken ellipses. “They’re going to talk.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat and grit my teeth against the burn in my chest. It’s been a long time since their last ‘reality check,’ and I feel raw and frayed, standing in front of my house in my world where I thought I was safe.
“We just don’t want you to be embarrassed,” Dad says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We’re trying to protect you. That’s all.”
“I know it might sound harsh,” Mom says, her tone softening. “But we only want you to be happy. The last thing either of us wants is for you to get hurt. You’ve been gone for a long time, you’re not used to our world anymore.”
“We only want the best for you, Fee-Fee,” Dad says.
My eyes burn with the tears I’m fighting and my cheeks burn with the anger I’m holding in. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes, because there’s no point in arguing with them. They’ll just push and push until I’ve agreed to try a crash diet or let them hire a trainer for me.
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder as soft lips press into my temple.
“Hey there,” Zeke says, giving me a little squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Hello?” Dad says, his eyes flickering between us.
My stomach does a little flip and squeeze as Zeke rubs his fingers up and down my arm.
“Faye texted that you surprised her with an early arrival time. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for drinks.”
