Liam waited outside in his truck. He was uncomfortable with coming in, and I knew my mother wouldn’t be happy if she walked in on both of us in her house together. There’d be no way to reason with her if she felt outnumbered. But there was a good chance my news wouldn’t end well with her, and just knowing Liam was a few feet away comforted my nerves.
I’d called the hospital on my way over to find out if I’d be waking her up or if she was working. My mother’s OR nurse had told me she’d finished a surgery late and left for the night. I maybe had ten minutes or so before she got home, and my pulse felt like I’d just run a marathon.
Lifting the fallboard up, I took a deep breath and ran my fingers along the top of the keys without making a sound. I looked down at the bench, where my dad used to sit, and smiled. This was my favorite spot in the entire house. We’d play songs together almost every night after dinner. Holidays were the best. Christmas morning, we’d wake everyone up, playing “Carol of the Bells.” That was one of the benefits of growing up in such a big house—the acoustics. The cold draft, however, I did not miss.
Closing my eyes, I pressed my fingers down and sank the keys in until I heard them sing. The sound bounced off the cold white walls of the house, bringing a little life back into it.
The sheet music that always lay open in front of me was gone, but I didn’t need it. Somehow, I remembered the opening notes to “Clair de Lune,” and muscle memory kicked in as I continued to stretch my fingers over the keys. It wasn’t the most difficult song my dad had taught me, but it was the one that always put my mind at ease, and right now, I needed to be calm in order to harbor the strength I required to tell my mother I was another disappointment. Another failure. I knew that wasn’t what I was, but she had a way of convincing you of being whatever she thought you were.
I held my fingers down over the last notes until the sound disappeared, slowly letting the house become its silent fortress once again.
“Avery Ann.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin as my mother’s voice rang from the foyer. She could’ve been the female version of Michael Myers just then. The way she just stood there, like a statue, her face void of any emotion, like a mask she’d perfected wearing. All she needed was a knife—or in her case, a scalpel.
My heart came alive, and I put my hand over my chest to try and calm myself. “Mom. Hi.”
“Why is Liam Lockwood in my driveway?” She was itching to start tapping her foot when I didn’t answer right away. “Avery?” Patience was never really her thing.
I looked up sheepishly. “Because I asked him to drive me here.”
Her eyes searched my face as she took in each one of my words, analyzing them carefully, and then she sighed. “You stupid girl. You’rewiththe Lockwood boy now?” She tore her purse from her shoulder and stuffed her car keys inside as she stalked away from me.
I trailed behind her into the kitchen. “Thatmanhas made me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
“You can’t be serious.” She huffed, shrugging out of her jacket. She took a wineglass out of the cabinet and poured herself a glass of merlot. “Did you forget his father was arrested for selling drugs?”
“Liam had nothing to do with that.”
“His dad is in prison, Avery. Prison,” she said slowly.
I balled my hands into fists at my sides. “Are you saying, Liam isn’t worth a damn because of his father’s mistakes? It’s not like you and Dad haven’t made your own mistakes. What does that say about me?”
Her eyes fixed on me in a cold stare, as she was taken off guard by my tone. She set her glass down so hard that I was surprised the stem of it didn’t break off.
“Look, I didn’t come here to discuss my dating life with you.” I placed my palms on the counter.
“Why are you here then? I know your test was today. Does it have anything to do with that?” she asked, pursing her lips in a knowing way.
“That’s part of the reason, yes.”
“Let me guess. You don’t think you got a passing score because you haven’t been focused lately, and you want to retake it again in six months?”
I took a long, deep breath. “I didn’t take the test, Mom.”
Her face paled as she took in a sharp inhale. “Why the hell not?” she demanded.
I began picking at my nail beds but stopped myself. My heart rate escalated. “Because I’m no longer a med student at Stanford. I’m not finishing my second year.”
“Hold on a minute—”
“I don’t want to be a doctor,” I finished, rushing to get it out.
My mother paused and stared at me for a long moment before taking a drink from her glass. She finished the entire thing in one sitting, and then the tips of her fingers covered her mouth.
Great. I’ve turned her to drinking.
“You quit?” Her voice was soft enough to not echo around the room but firm enough to feel like a jab to the stomach. “Oh, Avery…” She rubbed her temples. “Look, I’ll talk to my friends on the board, and we’ll work this out. We’ll fix this.”
