I clear my throat. “Well, I’m asking now.”
“It’s already so beautiful, Colton. I just know it’s going to be perfect. The way it opens up to the living room? So much natural light and such a great flow for the space. Della and Lettie are gonna be so jealous.”
Momma and her never-ending competition with the neighbors.
“That’s great to hear,” I say. “Look?—”
“I haven’t thanked you yet, have I?” she asks. “Pretty sure I’ve been too busy busting your chops, but you know how proud I am of you, right?”
“Of course I do,” I say thickly.
“I’ll admit now I was a bit nervous when you called to say you were switching from your business major to Roman history. Seemed so impractical at the time. But look at you now. Stable and happy and making a name for yourself, with enough left over to help your crazy old mom. I don’t know why I ever doubted you when you’re clearly the smartest of us all.”
“You’ve always been smarter than me,” I say, and I mean it. She’s brilliant, but with her circumstances, leaving Grand Creek was never an option.
“You’re a sweet little liar. Hey, I was thinking about cutting back my hours at the factory,” she says, and I’m glad that we aren’t on a video call so she doesn’t see my wince. “Since you’re done with your PhD and at a stable job now.”
It’s what we always talked about. My whole childhood, I toldher she worked too hard, was too exhausted and overwhelmed. I begged her to cut back, telling her that I didn’t need the latest SAT study guide or a private tutor if it meant she was going to drive herself into the ground to get it for me. And every time, she’d say it was her turn to work hard, and that I’d have my turn after I finished school.
Here’s where I should speak up. It’s my chance to set the record straight about my finances. To tell her the reason I didn’t come home for so many years is because I couldn’t afford to, not because I was busy working. To mention how I’ve been living on beans and rice for the majority of the year so I can cover my rent and her mortgage. To explain that the reason I say yes to each new project is because I’m desperate to give her what she deserves, not because I can afford it.
But instead, I say, “That’s so great to hear, Momma.” I tug at the collar of my shirt that suddenly feels too tight.
“Really?” she says, her excitement palpable. “It’ll be so nice to have some free time! I was thinking about starting up a book club. Not one where we read books, obviously, but one of those book clubs where I buy a ton of cheap wine and everyone gets drunk and gossips about what’s going on in town.”
She’s so happy. This is the future I promised her, back when I was going to be a bigshot finance guy with enough money to charter a plane between New York and Grand Creek. It’s the future she expected when she worked herself to the bone to support me, an unspoken agreement. One I threw away when I decided to change my career path for my own enjoyment.
She loves me, but her dreams for me—and, by extension, for herself—have always spoken the loudest.
You’re going to be the one who makes it out, sweet boy.
Our lives will be better. You’ll see. With that giant brain of yours, everything’s gonna work out.
You just watch. Get that fancy degree of yours and things will turn around right quick.
The image—and paycheck—she conjures when she hears the word “professor” doesn’t line up with reality. I can’t tell her that the job I chose doesn’t come with the money she always expected for me to make. I was her hope for a better future, and I can’t bring myself to break that mirage.
“I should prep for class,” I say.
“Of course. You get outta here, fancy professor man,” she says. “I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you, too,” I say, hanging up before she can take note of the tremor in my voice.
I’ll find ways to make it work, skimp where I need to, and I’ll keep working toward my own success in the name of providing for the both of us. No matter what.
And as much as I hate myself for it, Richard’s voice echoes in my head.
No making waves until you’re established on campus.
25
QUINN
TWELVE YEARS AGO
“We’re goingto Orvieto this weekend!” I say, bouncing next to the table where Colt’s studiously ignoring me in favor of a book as thick as his biceps. “I was telling Roxanne the other students wanted to see a smaller town, and she told me to run with the idea. She let me organize it all!”
“Cool,” he says without looking up.
