“I did,” I say obediently. “And guess what? I’m even using it.”
She chuckles on the other end of the line. “That’s my girl. Don’t worry, Freya. You can do this. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Maa.” Tears prick my eyes, and I bounce my knee as I fight off the relentless homesickness that creeps in when I hear her voice.
She picks up on it immediately, although she can’t see me. “Everything okay?”
“I just miss you guys, that’s all.”
“We miss you too, meri jaan. And you know you can come home anytime, but I hope you know how proud we are of you. You’re doing it, Freya. You’re chasing your dreams.”
I haven’t told my mother about the restaurant venture yet. And I definitely haven’t told her how I’m datingtwoguys.
My mother is progressive but notthatprogressive. And my grandmother? That news would put her in an early grave. Every time I even talk to her on the phone, she asks about any marriage prospects and when I’ll get arealjob. If I ever have to tell her that I found not only one potential husband but two, she may never speak to me again. I love her to death, but she and I grew up in very different worlds, and she may never truly understand me and my life choices.
“Have you had any more job interviews?” my mother asks with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Actually, I have…” I lie.
“Oh really. Where at?”
“Um…running my own place, actually.”
The line is quiet for a moment. “What do you mean your own place? In Paris?” Her voice takes on a screechy tone, and I wince at the excitement in it. Letting my parents down is my biggest fear so I’m constantly balancing between telling them everything and telling them nothing.
If I tell my mother nothing about my prospects, then she won’t be disappointed when I fail. But if I don’t tell her anything, she’ll be disappointed because she’ll think I have no prospects. It’s a vicious cycle.
“Wait, Freya. Tell me everything!”
“Well…it’s sort of the Kades again, really. Julian, their son…he wants to invest.”
“He must see your talent.”
He’s seen a lot more than my talent.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumble, chewing on my lower lip.
“That is so exciting, my brave girl. I’m so proud of you. You know…” She pauses a moment, and I know that means my mother is about to get candid with me, and I brace myself.
My mom is a brilliant woman. A college professor of mythology, she’s always flourished in the world of intellect and skepticism. This means that there’s no question she won’t ask. No topic she won’t approach. No conversation she won’t have.
“When you moved out to Paris, I was so scared to lose you. I knew you’d do amazing things. And it’s incredible what the Kades are doing for you, but, Freya, don’t you forget…you earned this. You are doing this for yourself.”
My throat grows tight as the encouragement seeps into my bones. Praise is hard to swallow, like thick pills that just won’t go down.
Because what if she’s wrong? What if her faith in me is misplaced?
She’s speaking as my mother. What if it’s all coming from bias?
Not wanting to burden her with any more of that pressure, I cut her off. “Actually, the meeting with the real estate agent is in an hour, so I really have to go. I just got out of the shower.”
“Oh, Freya. An hour? You really need to manage your time better.”
“I know, I know. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
When the phone line goes dead, I stare at my reflection, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Mostly…what the hell am I doing?
