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Yes, because that’s all that matters.
“He’s also way older than me,” I remind them just as I have several times before.
“Your father is ten years older than I am.” Mom glowers. “I keep him young. Plus, marrying an older man means he’s more mature and knows what he wants in life. No drama or games.”
I nearly choke on my food and wish this conversation would end, so I change the subject.
“So, the Vegas trip is this weekend. Don’t forget we fly out on Friday.” I hurry and take a bite so I don’t have to talk.
“You really need to be safe while you’re there. Take pepper spray, and don’t talk to strangers. Sometimes you’re too friendly and will chat with anyone,” Mom tells me as if I’m a five-year-old child. She’s always so worried about me, probably because I’m nothing like her.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Summer and all her friends. We’re not leaving each other’s side,” I tell her, hoping she’ll finally get off my ass about it.
Dad breathes in heavily. “I don’t know why Summer would plan something so childish. Most women do spa days or vacations in New York. Vegas is just…trashy.” He gives me a pointed look, and his judgy tone can’t be mistaken for anything else. He despises the idea.
“I even offered to pay for you girls to go to Bali for three days, and Summer refused,” Dad grunts. I think it’s the first time Summer has really gone against their wishes, and I’m actually proud as hell of her for doing what she wanted. Our parents tend to have a tight hold on us, especially me, and while I want to move out, I’m not sure how they’ll react when I actually do. Though it’s ridiculous, they’re more focused on marrying me off so I’m “taken care of.” I’m sure that’s the only way they’ll accept me leaving.
After we finish eating, Dad tells us good night, then heads toward the stairs. Since he has to be at the hospital at four in the morning, he goes to bed before the sun completely sets. I load the dirty plates into the dishwasher as Mom puts the extra food in containers. I’m being standoffish and just want to go to bed. I’ve had a long day.
“I know you get annoyed by us sometimes, but we just want the best for you, Zoey,” she tells me as she closes the fridge.
“I know.” I give her a smile, wiping off my hands on a dish towel.
“Will you please give Benjamin a chance? For us?” She’s so hopeful, and I don’t dare tell her no. “You two are perfect together.”
I nod, not wanting to argue, and then give her a hug before going upstairs. All I’ve ever wanted is to make my parents proud, and the least I can do is try.
“Are you ready?” Summer asks from behind me. I’ve put off packing all week, and now I’m rushing since we have to leave in ten minutes to make our flight.
“Almost,” I say, turning and shooting her a cheeky grin. She shakes her head, but a smirk crosses her lips. I’m known for doing things last minute, but this time, I really messed up. I stuff every sort of outfit I could ever need inside my suitcase, then zip it up. At this point, all I can do is hope for the best. Standing, I grab my shit and walk toward her, ecstatic to be spending the weekend with my big sister and her friends before she gets married.
“Mom and Dad have already given me the be-careful speech,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “Along with the don’t do drugs, don’t talk to strangers, and don’t have sex. In other words, don’t have fun.” I snort.
She smirks. “I’ve gotten warned too, but I’m not worried about it. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“It is your last weekend of being a single woman! I’m sure you could find a fling or two. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Amiright?” I joke. Summer’s prim and proper most of the time; the exact cookie-cutter daughter my parents wanted. I’m the spontaneous and eccentric wild child. They don’t know what to do with me most of the time other than try to force me to fit in their box. I’ve failed to follow their wishes, but it’s not because I’m trying to rebel. I’ve almost come to terms with being the black sheep of the family. It’s hard for them to understand me because I’m not like them and I’m not interested in the same stuff they are. I think on a different brain wave. I’m creative instead of analytical. I’d rather go with the flow than plan my entire life, and that’s incomprehensible to them.
Summer chuckles and follows me as I struggle to carry my overloaded suitcase down the stairs. When I walk into the living room, nearly out of breath, my mother puts her book down and gives us both a sweet, practiced smile.
