AVERY
“Yes, Mom. I have a roommate.”I plunk into my driver’s seat, put my phone on speaker, and drop it into the cupholder.
Mom’s been on the line with me since I left Ty’s, visited two clients, and is still present now as I head to my next gig. It’s like having a little bug in my ear, but it’s nice.
“Oh, good. I was a little worried you hadn’t found somewhere. We just never know with you.” My mother’s chuckle crackles through the line as I pull out of Soleil Drive, no doubt being flagged by the neighbors for looking so out of place. “Your sister and I were taking bets about which way you’d drive home. I voted the freeway. She voted the scenic route.”
“Hardee-har-har,” I chuff out. Neither of them ever seems to have a lot of faith in my ability to see things through, so the bet was not a surprise. It still stings a little, though. “Well, it sounds like the two of you owe me the money because you’re both wrong.”
“And we’re glad to be! You made the team, girl. Just like we used to dream about. You know, after you dropped out of college and moved home, I wasn’t sure we’d have much to look forward to from you.” She sighs. “I’m so glad I suggested you go to that first audition.”
Her words don’t sit right with me, but I thank her anyway because that suggestion changed everything. It’s what led me to move to the city. When she kept praising me for all the additional things I did to shape me into what the Kings brand wants their dancers to be—lessons, extra workouts—it hooked me. That praise was addicting. Coupled with my dad’s surprising enthusiasm that I may have a chance to work with his favorite team, I couldn’t bring myself to back down. So I kept going back year after year until I was successful. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
“You’re a Kings cheerleader. Wowzers,” she adds.
“Wowzers is right.”
Hearing the swell of pride in my mom’s voice is irreplaceable. There were years I thought about stepping back, not returning to auditions, but my Mom’s disappointment any time we’d talk about it spurred me on. Her dream for me slowly became my own. In a way, she is the heartbeat of this accomplishment.
Mom’s tone ratchets up an octave. “See! You should listen to your mother more often. Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up? Who knows what’ll be next for you if you stay out of your own way.”
What does that even mean?Next?I haven’t thought that far ahead. The “staying out of my own way” thing I’ve heard so many times it hardly registers anymore. It’susually followed by some anecdote about how I always manage to sabotage myself.
Avery, I thought you loved gymnastics, and you only went to five classes. Pity. You had natural talent for it.
You’re already done with the flute, Avery? Your middle school band was counting on you.
Really, Avery? Taekwondo? How many lessons are you going to last this time?
Dad was typically too angry or too busy to add his commentary.
But every single switch, my parents came to the same conclusion:If only Avery were on medication, maybe then her ADHD would stop being such an obstacle.I’d been to at least a dozen doctor appointments for a diagnosis by the time I turned eight, but my mother could never bring herself to pick up that prescription. Despite her concern for my constant state of distraction, she never medicated me. I still don’t understand that. Sometimes I wonder if maybe she had, I would have had a different future. But would I still be the Avery we know today if I’d taken those pills? Having a brain that worked a little differently from everyone else’s in my family was isolating. Sometimes it still is, but at the end of the day—despite my faults—I can truly say I like myself. I like my brain.
When I found dance at the age of eight and stuck to it, it appeased my parents enough to drop the pill talk for a decade. Their relief was noticeable even to baby-Avery. And it was nice. Dance was different than anything else I’d tried. It was something that was constantly changing. There was a discipline to dancing, but it had enough creativity in the mix that I could put my own twist on it. Ifell in love, and it became the most consistent thing in my life. Then I grew up. Entered the workforce. And nothing piqued my interest enough for me to stay. The cycle started all over again. The loss of interest. The disappointment of my family.
I brush the thought away. Not today. I won’t let negative thoughts overshadow what’s going right, and there are things going right, I remind myself.
She sighs happily. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I smile so wide my face hurts.
“I love you, sweetie. Ellie and I missed you today.” She squeals. “Which reminds me, I know you won’t be moving home any time soon, but Ellie is.”
“Oh… That’s… awesome!”
“She wants to be closer to Dad and me, but her old bedroom here is too small.”
I let the phone fall silent, already knowing what she’s about to ask.
“We were all thinking your old bedroom would be a better fit since it’s above the garage. It’s bigger. What do you think?”
I was expecting it, but my stomach still sinks.
“But my stuff is still in there. My dance trophies…”
“Your old stuff. You’re a big city girl now! You don’t need that. Plus, what better trophy is there than telling everyone you’re an NFL cheerleader?” She sighs. “Ellie is having a hard time at college. Junior year is tough. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her on the track to med school. She has so much potential. I know this is the right route for her. If moving home helps her stick it out, then that’s what we have to do.”
“Isn’t that kind of a long commute? Doesn’t she have an apartment?”
