I look down at my pizza with sausage and kale. “Well, I don’t know that either. I just think this visit isn’t going to go well.”
“Why?” Cami’s voice is gentle.
“It’s a long story.” I make a face. “I’ll just say my parents are really invested in my success as a singer and… I’m really letting them down right now.” Not only do I like Mabel and her friends, I feel okay telling them one of my biggest fears. It’s nice to have friends.
“But you’ve just been through a tragedy,” Mabel says. “They must understand that.”
“I don’t know if they do.” I sigh. “Sorry, I don’t want to be a downer. Let’s talk about more embarrassing kinks.” I’d rather tell them about my sex in public fantasy than talk about my parents’ visit.
* * *
My parents arrive at exactly one o’clock on Saturday, just like they said. We exchange big hugs and Mom looks me up and down. “You’ve put on a little weight.”
“Probably.” I shrug and smile. “I’ve been baking a lot of bread. Remind me to give you a loaf of sourdough when you leave.”
“Bread? I thought you didn’t like bread.”
I wave a hand. “Come in. Would you like coffee?”
“I’d love a coffee,” Dad says.
They both look around curiously as I move into the kitchen and prepare coffee for them.
“Whose place is this?” Mom asks again.
“It’s Marek Smits’.”
Dad’s head jerks back and Mom’s eyes widen.
“The hockey player?” Dad asks.
“Yes.”
“How do you know him?” Dad’s eyes narrow.
“We met at the All Star game last year. Remember? When I went to Vegas and sang at the game.”
“Oh.” Mom thinks. “But that was over a year ago. You mean to say you’ve been dating someone for over a year and we’ve never met him? Or even heard about him?”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. After the All Star game, we texted and talked a bit, but we didn’t see each other until… well, until I got back to New York.”
“Oh. But you’re dating now?”
“No.”
A look of frustration passes over Mom’s features.
“It’s just hard to explain,” I say gently, tamping down my own frustration. “I needed somewhere to hide out for a while.”
I tell them about the media that was camped outside my condo, and how I’ve felt safer staying here. I tell them I talked to Gray the other day. I try to reassure them that I’m doing okay, even though I still spend most of my time baking bread and watching soap operas. Should I tell them I’ve been playing my guitar and singing? Nothing serious, just fooling around. Nah. I don’t know where that’s going and I don’t want to mislead them.
“You can’t hide out here forever,” Dad says.
“I know.”
They’re full of questions about what I’ve been working on, what my plan is, when I think I’ll start the tour again. And I feel like shit when I tell them I don’t have a plan. That I haven’t been working. That I don’t know if I can ever go on tour again.
I see the dismayed expressions on their faces.
