“It seems to me you let your parents do a lot of your thinking for you. They bulldozed over all your needs and feelings four years ago, effectively separating you from the boy you loved. The father of the baby you lost. Then, they convinced you that fashion design wasn’t the right choice, and you shifted gears academically.
“Now, they’re playing games again. Both with your relationship and your future. The question is, why do you allow it? Do you really think they’ll just write you off and go no contact? Honey, they need you more than you need them. They see the writing on the wall and my guess is—they won’t know what to do as empty nesters. It doesn’t seem like they have the best relationship, from what you’ve told me, and once you girls are gone…what will they do? So, they’re holding on to the two of you, and their grandson, for all they’re worth.”
I stare at her and for the first time, I realize she’s right.
“It’s not the children’s job to make the family—it’s the parents’ job to make the children want to keep going home. You know what I mean?”
I bite my lip. “I just…my dad’s blood pressure has been high but at the same time, he always feels fine when it’s time to do stuff with Charlie. But then when I’m alone with my mom, she makes me feel bad, like I’m causing him stress.”
“You’re not out doing drugs or walking the streets,” she says patiently. “You’re in love with a nice guy who makes a lot of money and seems to adore you. I’d go so far as to say they probably won’t like anyone you date.”
I stare at her.
She stares back, one eyebrow arched.
Part of me believes she’s right while the little girl in me wants to behave, make my parents proud. If nothing else, make them love me.
“Sometimes I feel like if I can just be exactly what they want me to be, they’ll love me.”
Once again, she stares at me, but this time her face is filled with disbelief. “If you have to give up your hopes, dreams, and the love of your life to make them love you, there’s something very wrong with this picture. That’s not how love is supposed to work, especially not from your parents. It should be unconditional. Obviously, there are extenuating circumstances sometimes, like a child on drugs or who is physically violent. But that’s not the case here. Honey, you have to live your life. And if your parents are decent human beings—and I think they are or they couldn’t have raised a great woman like you—they’ll come around.”
I blink back a fresh round of tears.
“But…”
“Do you love Jordan? Like, real love… forever love?”
“I do.”
“Then you need to get your ass on that plane. Immediately.”
“I’m not packed. And I have work and school and?—”
“It’s spring break. And your boss is giving you the rest of the week off. Go to New York. Now.” She points toward the exit. “Don’t let him get away a second time, Victoria. And if your parents disown you, I’ll be your surrogate mom.”
This time my tears come from gratitude.
I give her a big hug and then run.
When I get home, I go straight to my room and start packing. I called to get a refund for Jordan for my flight but it was in the form of a credit to my account. So, I call the airline as I throw clothes in my suitcase. It takes a little maneuvering, and I don’t have a lot of time to get to the airport, but luckily it’s not too far.
I toss in toiletries, a raincoat, and a sexy piece of lingerie I’d been hoping to surprise Jordan with.
It’s too late to call for a ride so I’m going to have to park at the airport but I know Jordan will pay for it, even if things don’t go well. But they have to. There’s no scenario where we don’t get back together. I love him and he loves me. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to him.
It was like a switch flipped during my conversation with Terri. I’d already been thinking along those lines but she articulated it in a way that made sense. My parents are trying to keep me at home for as long as possible. But I’m not going to give up the love of my life because they’re insecure or are afraid of letting us grow up and do our own thing. If they would just understand that my relationship with Jordan will just make all of our lives better.
Not necessarily because he’s wealthy but because of the man he is. He would find ways to be there for all of us if they let him, including Charlie, and that can only be a good thing. He’s such a good guy, I just wish they could see that part of him instead of only focusing on the hotheaded nineteen-year-old he was.
My mother looks up in surprise when I walk through the kitchen pulling my suitcase.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To meet Jordan in New York,” I say in as firm a voice as I can manage. “All the other wives and girlfriends are there and I want to be there too.”
“I thought we agreed that you would slow things down with Jordan and?—”
“No, we didn’t agree to that. You made me feel guilty about it. You made it sound like Dad was on death’s door but he was outside playing with Charlie all weekend, and he’s working like normal. It’s only a big deal when it means keeping Jordan and me apart.”
