I watch my mom’s expression harden. “All jobs are ‘admin work,’ Sam. It’s more relevant than bartending. I don’t see how this is even a question in your mind at this point. What’s your backup plan?”
There is no backup plan. I don’t even have another goal, another dream job. Soon I won’t have a place to live. Everything has been flattened into a giant blinking sign that reads Danger Ahead!
“I’m just not sure it’s the best use of my time—”
“Sam.” I can see I’ve crossed a line with her. “I’m not an idiot. I can hear you watching videos all day.”
“I multitask,” I insist weakly.
“I’ve been on your side this entire time. I’ve suggested things, offered help, a place to stay. And I didn’t ask for much in return.” She leans forward. “I thought I was being a supportive parent. But maybe I’ve been enabling you.” My face flushes with embarrassment.
I feel like I’ve been alone in that room for years. I don’t want to move to a city where I’ll be even more alone in a different room.
“What about the comics?”
“What have I always said about them? Sell them. Take the money, use it to pay for…something…anything to break out of your rut, your living expenses. You don’t need to keep them.”
“I’ll call Dad. I’ll tell him to come get the boxes.”
“He’s not coming back for them, Sam. It has nothing to do with humidity in Florida. He literally couldn’t fit those boxes in his U-Haul. It was too much work to go through them. He couldn’t evenfindthe valuable ones in those boxes in order to sell them.”
“That’s not true. A lot of these have sentimental value.” I feel like I’m gasping for air, like there’s not enough oxygen in the room. “This box? It’s personal. He wouldn’t ever sell these.” I pull out one of my childish drawings of Dad as Magneto. “He put my drawings in this box with all the most important issues!”
“He didn’t, Sam. He left this whole stack of your drawings sitting on the floor when he packed up the truck. I’m the one who picked them up and stuck them in one of the boxes for safekeeping.”
I want to accuse my mother of lying, but I can see all over her face that it’s the truth.
“You always want me to think the worst of him.” I feel defeated. Exhausted. “I can’t have thisonething. This one little bit of proof? You have to take that away, too?”
She reaches for the drawing of a ridiculously strong older man with zigzags shooting out of his hands. “This? Is not your father. This is a story thatyoucreated when you were a disappointed kid.” She hands it back to me and walks to the office door. “I’m sorry you had to do that to cope. But you need to be honest with yourself now, Sam.”
I collapse onto my bed. I don’t know why it feels like my mom has unlimited resources and I’m one wounded soldier pointing my weapon at dozens of enemies.
If I stayed under my covers all day would it make anything worse?
Obviously nothing could make this worse.
And then I hear three fast knocks, three slow knocks, and three fast knocks against the wall.
33
“I have something for you,” Nicksays, handing me a small rectangular package wrapped in bright green tissue paper. “Kira picked it out at King’s Island. And wrapped it.”
“Maybe I should open it when she’s here,” I say. “Did she have a good time?”
Didyouhave a good time being a family again?is what I’m really asking. I’m sure a nine-year-old had a blast at a theme park.
“She did,” he says. “She rode a roller coaster for the first time.”
“Awesome.” My voice is tight. I’m not sure how much longer we can avoid the topic at hand.
We walk down a shady one-way street, even though the clouds look a bit threatening. It was my idea. I need air. I can’t bear to be confined to another room in this apartment complex while having a tense discussion about my decisions or my future.
“For the record, I wasn’t eavesdropping on that argument with your mom,” Nick says. “I was changing my sheets,” he explains—and hey, at least he’s a man who changes his sheets—“and I heard shouting. I caught bits and pieces.”
I kick a rock down the pavement. “Can you be more specific?”
“She’s worried about you being in a relationship with a parent.” He’s being so tactful. But I think we’re beyond tact now.
