Page 56 of Hunger & Harmony

“Hey.”

I ease myself out of her tight embrace, a potent mix of annoyance and dread settling in as Lorelai excuses herself and leaves me with them.

Even in the obscured lighting of this nighttime lobby, they look the same as always. Silver weaves through my mom’s strawberry-blonde ponytail, and what’s left of dad’s hair is completely gray. My eyes match his warm, button-brown ones, unlike my mom’s blue eyes.

I’ve always hated this cheery facade. Down to their cozy, matching flannel, they’ve always weaponized their small-town charm. Sheryl Monroe runs the local daycare, and no baby fusses when in her arms. The town couldn’t run without Old Dale’s mechanical expertise, either.

I’m the only one who has a problem, right? I’m the fussy baby, and the only mistake they’ve ever made. Even school friends would point out how “lucky” I am to have loving parents whose marriage is still going strong.

I feel the furthest thing from blessed when under their watchful eyes.

“You look tired, honey,” my mom says, and I cross my arms.

“I’m fine,” I say. “What’re you doing here? It’s pretty late for y’all.”

“Oh, we’re in town for a get-together,” my dad drawls. “We just got here, and of course, we wanted to see you. It’s been too long.”

Yeah, sure. A get-together in the middle of the night.

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I snap. “I’ve got work to do, so if you could⁠—”

“We wanted to talk more about that,” my mom says, and my muscles tighten.

“What’s there to talk about?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Niko withdraws. Only Ryel lingers, his arms tight across his chest as he leans against the corner. While part of me wants to be upset, I’m thankful for Niko’s polite departure. I need the space to deal with my parents without worrying about them confronting anyone. Worst of all, him.

“C’mon, you were out there in the dark. Let’s get something to eat,” my mom says, and they work together to usher me away.

This isn’t how I envisioned getting dinner. Stiffly sitting on the other side of this cushy booth, my parents staring at me as I read the menu without registering a thing. I’m pretty sure they just ordered for me, but I didn’t hear what the waiter said. How could a homey restaurant feel so hostile?

I’d bet my life that Viola called them. Of course she did. It’s taken me so long to see she’s not far from them. Everyone always thinks I need saving.

“So . . .” my mom starts.

“You’re an assistant?” he asks, finishing her sentence.

The disappointment is far outweighed by their restlessness. All of their rules have unraveled in mere weeks. I know it bothers them, and their anxiety is barely masked by strained smiles. I hate it. They’ve never had a valid reason for their strict ban on music, and now what?

“I am,” I say, my words slow but firm. “I’m Arteria’s PA.”

Saying it out-loud, and seeing their faces contort in pure horror . . .I almost can’t put a word to how it feels. Freeing. Thrilling. Terrifying, too.

I don’t back down. As they try to rearrange their discomfort into benevolence, I remain steady.

“Well, we are proud of you . . . securing a job,” my dad says, gesturing awkwardly. “Of course, there was an expectation of finishing your degree and⁠—”

“Finance isn’t for me,” I say with a shrug.

There’s a nonchalance I’ve never felt before. Bit by bit, it grows stronger. The band-aid is off, and the world hasn’t ended. Because now I have options. There’s something beyond them and their expectations to return to.

“Honey, you’re a very smart girl,” my mom placates, and I nod.

“I know.” I look them both in the face before I say, “Which is why I made my own decision.”

Silence follows. A zip of giddiness has my toes wiggling in my shoes. I have to keep it together, though. I can’t be too hasty.

Especially when my mom’s right eye twitches a little. I keep my head high.