"Mamma..." I'm at a loss for words.
"Also, I have been saving," she adds, turning back to the dishes. "A little each week from the grocery money. For application fees. For tuition."
"I have scholarships," I protest weakly.
"Scholarships don't pay for everything," she dismisses. "And medical school is expensive. Stanford, you can bring your laundry to me on the weekends."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. For years, I've been hiding my medical ambitions, believing my entire family wanted me in construction. Now I discover that my mamma not only knew all along but has been secretly planning for my dream in secret.
"Does Papa know what you know?" I ask.
"Your Papa knows I know everything," she says with supreme confidence. "He pretends not to notice because it would frighten him to admit it."
Gabi laughs out loud at this, and even Sophia cracks a smile.
"He'll come around, Seb," Sophia assures me, awkwardly patting my arm around her pregnant belly. "Eventually."
"After you've graduated from medical school, established a successful practice, and cured cancer," Gabi adds with her characteristic bluntness. "Maybe."
"Gabriella," Mamma scolds, but there's no heat behind it.
We finish the dishes, and I fold the list of medical schools carefully into my pocket. Before I can join the men in the den, my phone buzzes with a text. It's from JP.
JP
Runner-boy, you coming home tonight? Max built something terrifying and wants guinea pigs.
I smile despite myself. JP knows my Sunday dinner routine and the state it usually leaves me in.
JP
Parents that bad?
Comes another text before I can reply to the first.
I type back quickly
Me
Going for a run first. Be there in ~90.
JP
We'll have the fire extinguisher ready. And beer. I'll drive you back for your car later.
I slip my phone back into my pocket. "I have to go," I tell my mamma. "Study group."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Take some food." Before I can protest, she's already packing a container with enough leftovers to feed my entire friend group. "For your skinny friends, too."
I kiss her cheek, accept the heavy container, and make my brief goodbyes to my papa and Rick in the den. I endure one last pointed comment about missing "quality family time" for "more books."
Slipping into the main floor bathroom, I quickly change into the running gear I have stashed here for nights when I need to run away.
I'm sure a shrink would have a field day with this.I chuckle to myself as I change.
Outside, the crisp January air is a relief after the stuffy warmth of the house. I take a deep breath, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to dissipate. My car is parked at the curb, but I know I won't be driving it tonight.
I need to run.
