“That must be why the price was so reasonable. How soon is he having them done?”
“He’s not, Dad. I am.” My comment earns a groan from my father and a gasp from Mom.
“This is why you should have had me negotiate for you. He’s taking advantage because you’re young, and you’re a woman.”
I can’t do anything right in their eyes. I’m done trying to please and placate them. “Iasked for the place to be emptied. Whichhepaid for. I want to change the aesthetics.”
Dad circles his head, looking around, not even trying to hide his annoyance. “What are you doing, Cami?”
I pretend he’s talking about my vision, and not what he deems my mistake. “I’m adding decorative moldings and arches. Changing the lighting and flooring. Oh,” excitement bubbles up like champagne fizz as I picture it. “I’m going to paint the walls and brighten it up in here. These aren’t repairs being done because the place is in disrepair. This is me investing in bringing my vision to life. The landlord is getting out of the way and allowing me to do it.”
“Of course he is,” Dad adds. “You’re increasing the value ofhisproperty on your dollar.” Maybe I should tell them I’m renting with an option to buy, and that the purchase price is based on the current value, not on the hopefully increased value a year from now? Nah, it will only make them believe I want to hear their opinion on the matter.
“In return for my investment, I’m not paying for the store for the next month, only the apartment.”
“There’s so much to do,” Mom says, then bites her lip in a failed attempt to hold her tongue. “You don’t even have an oven or a kitchen.”
I nod, doing my best to hold my temper. “The hookups for gas and water are there already. I need to swap out the slop sink and order a dishwasher. I ordered ovens. I’m waiting on a date for delivery and installation.”
“Honey,” I hear the warning tone in Dad’s voice as he walks around the large outer room with one arm crossed over his chest while the opposite hand strokes his chin. “We were under the impression this was a ready-to-go operation.”
“It is ready. I need to make these changes to attract a crowd.”
Mom reaches out with a soft grip on my arm just above my elbow. Her touch is tentative. I can tell she’s not sure if she should say anything more, but knowing my mother, she won’t be able to help herself. I hate that I’m right.
“Camilla, this is going to cost a lot of money.”
I nod. “I’ve saved up a nice amount living at home. Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to pay for any of this. What I am asking is for you to be excited. To trust me. I’m not flying by the seat of my pants. Come,” I take my mother’s hand and lead them through the layout I have envisioned. “The refrigerator, steel work tables, and ovens will go in the back. Out here,” I stand in the middle of the open space, making a statement as I do: this ismyspace. I own it in the way a great actor owns the stage, or a musician his instrument. “The counter and display cases will be here, with tables on either side of the store, and plenty of open space in the middle for the customers.”
My parents share a look. A look I know too well. They doubt me. They think I’m in over my head and that I’ll fall on my face and come running back home. I meet their eyes with steel in my spine. My silence dares them to suggest that this won’t turn into everything I expect it to. They don’t.
Dad sighs. “At least I don’t have to worry about you getting mugged and losing all your money when you close up at night,” he says with a sad smile.
“Because money is the only reason that anyone would want to mug me?”
“Not the only reason. You wear expensive jewelry, too.”
“Carlos, I don’t think that’s what she means,” Mom chimes in, then comes to stand between us, realizing this is about to turn ugly.
Dad nudges his way around Mom. “I never say the right thing, do I?” He shakes his head. “Fathers don’t like to think about the prospect of their daughters getting raped. You can understand that, can’t you? If I think about all the terrible things that can happen to you, I might drag you back home and chain you to your bedroom. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’re beautiful.”
I regret my words and my attitude; maybe I’m the problem. I’m too defensive. Too sensitive about my weight because it has been used as an excuse for everything that’s wrong in my life. When I was younger and didn’t get the lead in the play, my mother claimed, “Leading actors are supposed to be thin.” Maybe in her day, but that’s not the case anymore. Any time I liked a boy, and he didn’t like me back, Mom’s answer was that I should lose a few pounds. “I’m telling you, if you lose ten pounds, it will make all the difference.” Fat camp may not have been her idea, but she’s not innocent.
“I’m sorry, Papá. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, Cami, I’m sorry. Maybe we’ve been so focused on the life we want for you that it doesn’t feel like we’re taking what you want into account.” He takes a step toward me and reaches for my hands, which are twisting nervously in front of me. “Dale, I love you. You’re going to be a huge success, I know it.”
I force a smile, nervous that I’ll let my guard down only to hear that all I need to do to get things up and running is snag a husband.
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.” He pulls me in for a quick hug.
“Even if it means that I never get married?”
“Even if you never get married. You’ll always be our little girl, and we’ll probably always be overbearing. You had to leave the house eventually. And to be honest, I’m glad you’re doing it to make your dreams come true and not to shack up with some guy because you think it’s what we want.”
I throw my arms around my father. He gets it. Finally. I hope.
