“I’m not, it’s just …” she flashes me a guilty look that has me frowning. What’s the deal? “I came to warn you.”
Now I’m frowning more. “Warn me?”
“Forgive me, my favorite niece,” Cindy says in a high whisper, her shoulders pinching. “I thought about lying andsaying that you’d moved already, got a job in the oilfields in North Dakota, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
What is she talking about—wait. No.
Bells jingle on the front door. In my peripheral vision, I sense two people stepping through it. A man and a woman.
“Gotta go now, have a date with Kazu,” Cindy whispers. “Bye!”
Then she scurries off in the direction of the back door. I could mention that it’s suspiciously early for a “date,” but my attention is too preoccupied by the two people walking toward me, whom I still haven’t turned to face head-on yet.
When I do so, I find a well-dressed man and woman standing on the other side of the counter. They’re immaculately put-together, but the fancy clothes they wear as armor can’t impede the awkwardness that radiates from their body language.
“Carmen … hello,” the woman says, a hint of softness in her tone.
“Mom. Dad.” I can feel the deer-in-headlights look on my face. It’s not something I’m used to. “What are you guys doing here?”
I almost expect one of them to lighten the mood by saying,Oh, we were just in the mood for some coffee.Cindy would do something like that if she were on the other end of this counter, in their shoes. But neither of my parents is the joking type. And to be fair, neither am I.
“I was invited to speak at a Bio-Med conference at the University of Vermont,” my mom says. “And, well …”
My dad picks up her thought and finishes it, “We took it as a sign that we should stop by and see you.”
A sign? That’s not the way my parents usually talk. Maybe they have changed, a little bit. Maybe I can relax some of the defenses that are shooting up around me.
“We have to get to the conference soon,” my mom says, “but we thought that afterward, we could come back and have dinner.”
“And talk,” my dad says.
My eyes tick between theirs, and I sense something in their looks. Something that tells me maybe they haven’t changed as much as that brief flash of hope allowed me to entertain.
Something scheming—like they’ve discussed exactly where they’d steer the conversation at this dinner they’re proposing, like they’ve strategized the outcome they want from it.
This isn’t going to be just a friendly dinner to start the process of thawing out our relationship. It’s going to be an interrogation session.
My stomach feels tight as I imagine sitting across from them as they slowly ratchet up the pressure.
Asking me about my progress on my book and furrowing their brows in disapproval when I tell them about my writer’s block.
Asking if I’ve put any thought into what I’m going to do next year if my writing doesn’t result in totally improbable success. Which I have, but to no avail.
I feel my self-confidence wilting. I don’t know if I have the strength to go through that right now. I feel too tired. Tired from struggling with my book, tired from struggling with my developing feelings for Jamie.
I’ve grown used to no longer having to justify myself to anyone, and I’m not in the mood to find myself back in that role. I’m really not in the mood to have another fight with my parents.
But at the same time, they came here, they reached out. I don’t have it in me to reject my parents when they’re making a gesture to start repairing our relationship, even if I do suspect there are ulterior motives.
“Yeah, okay,” I answer, my words feeling unsteady on my tongue. “My shift is over at two, and I don’t have anything planned after that.”
I had thought that maybe I’d text with Jamie and work my way to presenting my proposition to him, but I can easily kick that back to another day. I definitely don’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with that task and dinner with my parents on the same day.
Jamie ...
The strangest idea suddenly sprouts in my mind. Instead of picturing myself alone across from my parents, I picture Jamie by my side.
In this fantasy, with him by my side, I don’t feel intimidated or demoralized as I face down my parents’ interrogation. I feel supported. I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I have confidence in the path I’ve chosen. Confidence to defend my decision to my parents, if this dinner turns into another battle of wills.
