For a minute, I just stared at the wall, hating the tears that blurred my eyes because I should’ve been used to this by now. It had been two years since our first blowout argument over my choice in career. They’d made it clear from the beginning they didn’t think music therapy was a real degree. They acted as if everything I was passionate about was just some elaborate way to avoid real responsibility, andeventually I’d wake up one day and realize how stupid I’d been not majoring in something like business or accounting.
“All my classes are useful, Mom.”
“Of course they are, sweetie. I just worry that you’re putting all your eggs in one basket, you know? Music is a wonderful hobby, but?—”
“It’s not a hobby,” I cut her off, my hand tightening on the phone. I never should’ve answered her call. “It’s my career. Music therapy is a legitimate field, and I’m good at it.”
The silence that followed felt heavy with everything we’d been fighting about since I decided to attend CFU over the University of Montana. Since I chose my own path instead of following three generations of family tradition. In the Tinsley family, it was basically sacrilege to be a CFU Lumberjack instead of a UM Grizzly.
“Harper, you know we just want what’s best for you,” Mom said finally. “Your father and I…we worry that you’re limiting your options. If you’d gone to UM like we discussed?—”
“I got more scholarship money here,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “And CFU has one of the best music therapy programs in the region. This is where I belong.”
“But sweetheart, you could have studied something more practical at UM. Business, or education, or?—”
I couldn’t keep having this same dead-end argument with her anymore.
“How’s Dad?” I interrupted, desperate to change the subject before this turned into another full-scale argument about my life choices.
The pause on the other end of the line stretched long enough that my chest started to tighten.
“Mom?”
“He’s…well, you know your father. Working too hard, not taking care of himself the way he should.” Another pause. “Harper, I was actually calling because your Aunt Hilary mentioned she might drive over from Helena next weekend, and your cousin Sydney said she could come home from UM?—”
“Mom.” I cut her off before she could launch into the full guilt trip trying to get me to come home. I rarely visited Meadowbrook since I started school at Clark Fork University, even though it was only about a forty-five-minute drive away. “How is Dad? Really?”
I knew an evasive technique when I heard it.
The silence that followed made my hands go cold. I’d always been a daddy’s girl, and his disappointment in me had nearly crushed my soul to dust, but I kept hoping eventually he’d see how happy I was and let it go.
“He’s been tired lately,” she said finally. “Working too much, not sleeping well. You know how he gets when he’s stressed about a big project.”
My throat felt tight. “Is he okay though?”
“Oh, he’s fine, just run down. Too much work, not enough rest.” She forced a laugh that didn’t sound convincing. “You know how stubborn he is about taking care of himself.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Dad had always been a workaholic, running the family construction business like it was his personal mission to build half of Western Montana.
“You know…if you come home this weekend, you could see him for yourself.”
And there it was. The guilt trip. Which made me wonder if he was actually run down or if she just wanted it to appear that way so I’d come home. But I knew the truth;she only wanted me there because Hilary and her daughter were coming to visit. It was all about appearances, not because she actually missed me.
“I have to go,” I said quietly.
“Harper, wait. I didn’t call to fight with you. I just…I worry about you being so far from family.”
CFU was forty-five minutes from my hometown. Hardly “far from family.” But I knew what she really meant—I was far from their expectations, far from the life they’d planned for me, far from being the daughter they’d wanted.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really. And I’m not far. You know you guys can call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and stared at my phone for a long moment, my earlier frustration about Drew put on the back burner. If only he knew how much I sometimes hated being a Tinsley.
No. I shook my head and picked up my violin again. I couldn’t go down that rabbit hole. Not today.
