Chapter 26
I park on the street in front of my parents’ house.
Sully grabs the paper bag with the ice cream, and we follow the stone path cutting through the rocky front yard.
Mom has little gnomes around with colorful hats.
They always gave me the creeps, but Sully points at them with a grin. “Those are kinda cute.”
“Please don’t tell my mother that or she’ll show you the site she buys them from and never let you go.”
Sully grimaces and briefly nods. “Noted.”
Anxiety pricks at the base of my skull as I walk up toward my childhood home.
I’ve never been on a razor’s edge to visit my parents, but I also never brought a boy into their house either.
My high school boyfriend honked his car horn when he was outside and my last boyfriend met my parents a couple of times out at restaurants for dinner, but he never wanted to come over, not even for the holidays.
Maybe that was a sign he wasn’t the one.
He always said there were better things to do, but he usually got shit-faced no matter where we went.
I open the door and step in. “We’re here!” I shout.
“Hey, honey!” Dad’s voice booms from somewhere inside.
We step through the front door and the scent of burning steak wafts through the air. A second later the smoke detector screams and their golden retriever, Bishop, runs out the doggy door next to the back door.
“Welcome to the Gates’ house!” I gesture to the couch and take the bag of ice cream from him. “Please wait here.”
I rush into the kitchen and find Mom holding a frying pan on fire and throwing it into the sink, dowsing it in water.
“What did that steak do to you?” I ask, putting the ice cream in the freezer.
Mom jumps, clenching the dry towel to her chest. “My goodness, Veronica! You scared me.”
“Sorry. I said we were here.” I eye the blackened thing that once was food. “But I guess you were busy.”
Mom turns the water off and arches her neck to look around the corner into the living room. “Who did you bring? Alice?”
“Oh…no.” I focus on folding the paper bag flat against my chest to avoid her questioning eyes. “His name’s Sully.”
“You brought a boy?” Her voice rises an octave and I want to hide in the bathroom when she breezes past me to meet him.
“You must be Sully,” Mom says, acting as if she knows him.
Sully stands and offers to shake Mom’s hand. “Guilty.”
“We hug in this family.” Mom wraps her arms around Sully and he winces when she squeezes too tight.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth when his eyes lock with mine.
Mom releases him and shouts, “Honey! Veronica has a date over!” She practically floats to the backyard.
Sully rubs his back. “She popped something.”
“She hugs tighter than a python. I should’ve warned you.”
Dad comes in followed by Mom and Bishop at her side. The dog walks over to Sully wagging his tail and smells Sully’s shoes before licking his hand. Bishop then goes to his bed in the corner of the room and lies down.
“That means he likes you.” Mom smiles, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Can you help me in the kitchen, sweetie?”
“Hey, Ronnie.” Dad kisses my head as I walk by him.
“Hi, Dad.” I look past him to Sully. He’s nervously fidgeting with his hands, unsure what to do with them.
He eyes the door, and I don’t blame him if he darted out.
My dad is a tall and buff man who was in the military.
He never told me what he did, but I think it was something off the books, like the missions seen in action movies inspired by true events.
“Do you want mac and cheese with dinner?” Mom grabs the purple saucepan from the pan hook above the island.
“Sure. Sounds good,” I reply, lingering near the doorway to hear what Dad is saying to Sully. I can barely see Dad’s back, but I can’t see Sully.
Mom clicks her tongue. “Sweetie, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”
“Sorry…” I rip myself away and lean against the island with my elbows, resting my chin on my folded hands. “What do you want me to help with?”
She frowns and replaces the saucepan back on its hook.
“Don’t worry about it. On second thought, I think it’s better if we order out.
Your dad almost burned his eyebrows off with the BBQ and you walked in on what happened on the stove.
” She laughs half-heartedly. “I should wash this frying pan before all this crap is caked on forever.” She turns on the hot water and scrapes the burnt pieces into the trash can.
“Let me do that,” I say, taking the pan from her. “Just sit down.”
She pats my arm and actually listens for once, taking a seat on a bar stool at the island. “Thanks, baby.”
As I scrub the pan, Mom clears her throat and asks, “Where did you meet Sully? He seems like a sweet boy.”
My muscles lock up in my back and I scrub the pan harder. “He is. We met at a concert.”
“That’s nice. You have the same taste in music?”
Something like that. I cough to hide my laugh.
“What does he do?”
Here we go. The grilling I always avoided by never bringing boys home. I bet Dad is laying down the law and threatening harm if something happens to me as if I’m sixteen and going on my first date.
The pan is clean, but I keep the sponge going in circles like it’s filthy. “He plays the bass guitar in a band.”
“Oh,” she sighs. One little word and the disappointment weighs heavy on my shoulders.
“He was a great help today. My friend Arthur couldn’t come to my photoshoot and Sully volunteered.”
“That’s nice, dear.” Mom stands and gathers her phone from the counter. “I should order dinner or we’ll never eat.”
Mom loves me in her own way, but how I live my life depresses her.
She had big plans for me after I graduated.
Honestly, I wish I skipped college and jump-started my mermaid career instead of doing gigs here and there.
But that would’ve gone against Mom’s grand plan for me.
She wanted me to graduate, get an office job, or something like it that’s a steady forty-hour job, then settle down, marry and maybe have a kid or two.
Instead, I became a licensed scuba and free diver and grew my mermaid career from a few birthday parties to a gig at a restaurant, to more freelance gigs, and into a blossoming modeling career.
I wait until Mom is finished ordering to say anything else. I wash the pan and leave it in the dish strainer upside-down to dry.
When she sets her phone on the table and grabs a dishcloth to wipe the already clean counter, I ask, “Aren’t you going to ask me how work is?”
“Veronica…” She drops her sentence and the dishcloth in the same breath.
Dad walks in, his eyes bouncing between Mom and me. If he notices the tension, he ignores it. “Hey, Sully wants to see the Mustang I’ve been restoring so we’ll be in the garage.”
Mom doesn’t blink, just returns to making the counter shine. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Can you pick it up from Tony’s?”
“Yeah…I’ll tell him we’ll check out the Mustang later.” Dad slips out and leaves us in a quiet kitchen.
Mom turns to face me, her lips a slash across her face. “Let’s drop this, okay? I want today to be nice for all of us.”
Yes. Let’s ignore my life choices. It’s not like they matter.
I follow Mom into the living room. Dad is already gone, leaving Sully to study the family pictures on the mantel. He grabs a framed photo of the three of us at a ski lodge in Colorado about ten years ago. “I didn’t know you liked to ski.”
“She doesn’t,” Mom answers for me. “She nearly broke her leg right after that picture was taken. She spent the rest of the vacation in the lodge reading next to the fireplace.”
Sully returns the picture. “Guess you’ve always been more of a beach person, huh?” A smile tugs on the corner of his mouth.
“You have an interesting accent. Where are you from?” Mom pushes forward to move the picture Sully touched a half an inch to the left.
“Born and raised in Berlin, Germany.”
“Mom, can you stop with the third degree?” I grab Sully’s arm and tug him toward the couch. “How about we play a card game or something until Dad returns?”
Mom wipes her hands on her skirt and grabs Bishop’s leash. He hears it and bolts out of bed, running for the front door. “I should take the dog on a walk first. You kids stay here.”
Bishop happily pulls Mom outside and they’re gone in a whoosh.
“Do I want to know what happened in the kitchen?” Sully hooks his arm around my waist, forcing me to look at him.
“Same old thing. Mom hates my career choices. She doesn’t like that you’re a musician. Thinks I’m pissing away my life.” I shrug. “I’m used to it. How do you think I developed such a thick skin to deal with the horrible comments online?”
Sully presses his lips to my temple and it sends a buzzing through my brain. “Strangers online are always trying to bring down successful people, but mothers shouldn’t. She should be supportive no matter what you do.”
“Yeah.” I bristle and drift toward the rocking chair, wanting to sit alone. “It’s a long story. I hope when Dad returns with dinner it won’t be so awkward and if it is we’ll leave after we eat.”
Sully’s eyebrows push together in concern. “I don’t understand why she—”
I fold my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“She’s old-fashioned in what my job should be and how I should live.
Being a mermaid seems silly to her. She once told me if I’m not Ariel at Disneyland, how do I get paid at all.
” I inspect the mole on my forearm to avoid seeing the sympathy in his eyes.
“She probably thinks Alice pays most of the bills. Her mind would blow if she knew I paid for almost everything. Alice spends her tips on her ever-changing wardrobe or growing tattoo collection.” I drop my legs and lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs.