Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
W hen I got home, I had to sneak around the side of the house to go through the basement apartment front door. I changed out of the previous day's outfit and into a fresh pair of jeans and a volunteer shirt. I put my dirty clothes in the hamper. It was full, so I decided to start a load of laundry. While the washer spun up I did a bit of tidying around the living room, not wanting to leave the mess any longer.
It was when I started cleaning out my closet that I realized I was just stalling.
I was dreading talking to my parents. But I'd promised Nathan.
Steeling myself, I went up the stairs to the main floor, pausing on the last step. Maybe they weren't even home. Maybe Mom was out shopping for groceries. Maybe Dad was working overtime at the office. Maybe I could avoid having this conversation for one more day.
But when I opened the door, I saw my mom sitting at the kitchen table, playing a mobile game on her phone. She looked up to greet me with a beaming smile. So she hadn't realized I'd been gone all night. That was a plus.
"Hi, honey," she said. "Did you have a good sleep?"
"Hey, Mom," I replied. "Yeah, I had a restful night. Um. Where's Dad?"
"He's out picking up some milk." Her lips pressed into a firm line. "He forgot to do it last night, so we couldn't have breakfast this morning." The words were accusatory, not aimed at me, but aimed at my dad's absent presence.
So they'd already gotten into it this morning. Wonderful.
"When do you think he'll be back?" I asked.
"He just left," she said. "Why?"
Would it be easier to tell them one at a time and halve the outrage I might face? Or would it be better to tell them both at the same time and get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid?
I hated that Nathan had been made to feel bad about our relationship. I didn't want to put this off any longer.
"I have something to tell you," I said.
My mom sat up in alarm. "What is it? Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"
"No, Mom, I'm fine," I said. "I just need to talk to you about something."
The anxiety didn't leave her face. She pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. She always did that when she was bracing herself for bad news.
I didn't think this was bad news. It should have been wonderful news. I'd found someone who cared about me. But maybe she wouldn't see it that way.
I took a seat across from her at the kitchen table.
"You can tell me anything, honey." I knew she was trying to be reassuring, but the words came out fearful and desperate.
I didn't want to leave her worrying for too long. It would only make things harder. I wished this wasn't such a big deal. For any other person, this conversation wouldn't be. But I wasn't any other person and my mom wasn't a regular mom.
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Best to get it over with.
"I'm seeing someone," I told her.
The expression on her face froze. I waited for some sort of emotion to reappear. Shock or surprise or worry. Something.
"I see," was all she said, her voice tight and robotic. A strand of hair fell from behind her ear, falling against her cheek. She didn't bother to push it back.
"He's a really great guy," I said.
"And where exactly did you meet this great guy?"
She was wondering because I so rarely went out. I worked and volunteered and came home. Did she think I'd picked him up at a club or something?
Well, that wasn't totally far from the truth.
"We met at the hospital," I told her.
"Is this the same boy who invited you to that author signing?" she asked, still devoid of emotion.
I'd almost forgotten the lie I'd told her. I told so many, it was hard to keep track. Nathan was probably right, I should be more honest with my parents.
At least this was a good start.
I hoped.
"Yes, that's him," I replied. "He was visiting someone and we got to talking."
"I see," she repeated, as if those were the only words she could bring herself to say.
"I really like him," I said. "And he likes me."
"Does he know?" she asked.
"About my heart defect? Yes, I told him. He was worried, obviously, but he took it very well."
She shook her head. "Not just about your condition. Does he know everything? Does he understand?"
I hesitated.
I'd told Nathan a lot. He understood what I'd gone through. He understood how hard it had been for me.
But I hadn't told him everything.
He didn't know what my parents had gone through. He didn't know my mom had to quit her job to take care of me. He didn't know my dad used every spare moment to research everything he could about my heart problem. Nathan didn't realize they had spent every minute of my childhood wondering if my heart would stop in my chest, wondering if today was the day their little girl would die. He didn't realize what they'd given up for me.
He didn't realize the burden I'd placed on my loved ones.
I still hadn't answered my mom.
"I don't think you seeing this boy is a good idea," my mom said.
"Mom…"
I had known she wouldn't take it well.
"Don't you remember what happened the last time?" she said. "We didn't think that boy was right for you, and look what he did."
"I know."
"He left you the instant he realized how hard it was going to be for him if he was with you."
"I know!" I cried. "Nathan's not like that. I'm sure he would understand. His mom?—"
"Does he realize he might have to drop everything at a moment's notice if something goes wrong?" she continued. "Does he realize how it might impact his job, his life?"
I forced down the outburst waiting to explode from my mouth.
"Even if he says he likes you now, he's going to leave you eventually," my mom said matter-of-factly. "He's going to hurt you."
Exactly what Jessie had warned me about.
"You don't know that," I replied, but my voice wavered.
"You're special, Becca," my mom said. "You need a lot of care."
"I'm better now."
"For now."
Those two words I hated hearing.
"You need to be careful," she said. "You need to watch out for yourself."
"You think I don't know that?"
"The last thing your father and I want is for you to get hurt."
"I'm not a little kid anymore," I told her. "I can make my own decisions."
"You're still living under our roof."
"Because you won't let me leave!"
"I don't want you seeing this boy," she said, firm and resolute.
Anger began to simmer in my chest.
"You don't get to decide how I live my life," I told her.
"Yes, I do. I'm your mother," she said, voice raising to a higher pitch.
"You don't get to use that excuse. I'm not a little girl. I'm not made of glass. I'm an adult."
She narrowed her eyes at me, face turning red.
"Adults don't make rash and stupid decisions like this," she said.
I couldn't hold in it in anymore.
"Wanting to date someone isn't stupid!" I burst out.
"You're not like everyone else, Becca," she said, slamming her palms against the table, making it shake. "You can't just do whatever the hell you want!"
I pushed back in my chair, screeching it against the tiled floor, and stormed over to my apartment door.
"Watch me."