Elise laughed. “Sadly, yes. Because then you’d have to have a bunk bed with one of us, and that’s not exactly what we want.”
“So, what are we talking about?” Pacey asked, Tanner and Miles behind him.
“Just living situations and life,” Sanders said. “Anyway, good party tonight.”
I shrugged. “It was okay.”
Sanders sighed. “School’s tough, and everyone’s stressed out. They’re either lashing out or hooking up. Pretty much the norm.”
Elise snorted, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Pretty much.”
She and Mackenzie started talking, as did the guys. I just looked around and figured that maybe I had found part of my place. Part of what I needed.
I hadn’t expected them or this, and I still wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I would find my way. I had to.
I didn’t want to become the person that Mandy thought I was.
And that meant I couldn’t hurt Elise. I couldn’t hurt my friends.
Somehow, I had to find a way to keep that promise.
Chapter 12
Elise
* * *
Me: I’m so not in the mood to go tonight.
Dillon: Just don’t let your parents see these texts.
I cringed.
Me: Dear God. I would never hear the end of it. But no, I will not let my parents see these texts. They will never know.
Dillon: That’s good. But I hope it’s not that bad. It’s just dinner, right?
I wasn’t exactly sure how to explain a lifetime of failing to live up to my parents’ expectations in a text. Dillon had gone through hell, literally in some cases, and had come out stronger. My petty grievances with how my family treated me weren’t even in the same realm. I didn’t know how to complain about my family without sounding like a petulant child. And maybe that was an answer in itself. That it was just hard to stand up to people who didn’t see me as an adult and who had never truly understood my choices.
Dillon: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trivialize anything you’re going through.
I let out a soft smile and shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. I didn’t understand how he came to understand me so quickly, how he understood everything so quickly. It wasn’t as if we’d been together long. It had only been a couple of months at this point, yet he knew how to calm me down when things got a little weird or complicated. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I hadn’t expected Dillon Connolly. Therefore, I had no idea what to expect next.
Me: My parents, hopefully, will be satisfied with merely dinner.
I sidetracked, but I knew he’d let me be. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel anyway. Not when it came to school, or Dillon, or going home to people who still saw me as the perfect thirteen-year-old they could mold into their ambitions.
Or maybe I was just thinking a little too hard about all of it and layering where nothing existed at all.
Dillon: Have fun. Text me when you’re done. You’re sitting in their driveway, aren’t you?
I cringed.
Me: Yes, but with the way the driveway is, you can’t see. They don’t know I’m creeping here.
Dillon: They probably know.
Me: Thanks. I’ll see you soon.
Dillon: I hope so.
I blushed, but did my best to push thoughts of Dillion from my mind. I needed to focus on my parents and this dinner. I loved them; I really did. They just expected so much from me and sometimes I had to wonder about the reasons behind their visions for my life and why their intensity had increased over time. They hadn’t always been like this.
I put my phone on silent, tucked it into my bag, and checked my reflection in my rearview mirror. I added a bit more concealer under my eyes since I hadn’t been sleeping much. Between exams, papers, and Dillon, I wasn’t getting as much rest as I should. My parents would notice at a glance. They were doctors, and they could always tell, but I could at least try to hide the worst of it.
I added some lip balm since it wouldn’t add a shine or color to my lips. My mother had strict guidelines for what she liked to see on her daughter. And, sometimes, I didn’t care. Other times, I just wanted to get through dinner without too many arguments, and that meant falling in line. As it was, I was going to disappoint them because I wasn’t switching majors as they wanted.
I might as well not stoke the fires while I was at it.
I put my bag over my elbow, got out of my car, and made my way down the long path towards my parents’ home. I had grown up privileged. I knew that. I was blessed and was well aware that I didn’t have to fight for many of the things others still did. My goal was to work in a field where I could help others and not just people who came from the same background as I had.
I wasn’t sure my parents would understand that, but I couldn’t change their minds in an instant, even though I’d been trying for years.
I rang the doorbell and waited for my mother to answer. Mother always answered the door, even though she was as much an established and prestigious doctor as my father. But there were certain norms in the household. Mother opened the door if there was no staff on hand, and Father would greet me by the mantel. It was what they had always done. It never made any sense to me, but I let it go.
My mother opened the door and smiled politely, the pearls around her neck glistening. She studied my face, her gaze moving down to my perfectly lovely cardigan I had paired with my dress, as well as my sensible heels. She gave me an approving nod after glancing at my eyes, and I was grateful that I had bothered to put on these clothes rather than something I was a little more comfortable in. She took a step back and gestured for me to walk into the house.
“Elise, I’m glad you’re on time.” No hello, no I love you, no how are you—just a quip about promptness. I had arrived early because I was afraid that traffic might delay me, and I’d stayed in the car and texted Dillon until it was time for me to go into the house. Being early was too inconvenient. Being late was never allowed. Being on time was somehow perfect. I usually liked to be early, so I ended up waiting around for my parents most days until the exact, promised time.
“Hello, Mother,” I said and kissed her cheek as she leaned down. She was three inches taller than me, and since she wore more elevated heels—at least for the day—it made for a more noticeable height difference. I knew she’d done it on purpose, for the same reasons I wore sensible heels around her. Or that I didn’t wear flats because my mother thought flats were for girls in ballet. I happened to like them, but I wasn’t going to get into that fight with her tonight.
“Your father’s near the mantel as always. Go say hello to him. I’ll get your club soda ready.”
I hated club soda and would rather have regular soda, juice, water, or God forbid something alcoholic, but I still wasn’t of legal age, and there was no drinking in our household. At least not for me.
My parents drank their normal martinis and whiskeys, but I wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge its existence for another three months.
I swore my parents were the WASPs of old living in Colorado, and I didn’t quite understand how they’d ended up here.
“Hello, Father,” I said and kissed his cheek as he leaned down.
“Elise. You’re looking well.” He narrowed his eyes partially.
“I noticed the bags, as well. Elise, darling, are you using the night creams I sent? When you own your practice, you’re going to need to make sure that you have the face to match. People won’t want to come to you for specialties if you look old and haggard.”
I was twenty years old. And yes, I wore night cream. But not the same one my mother slathered on every evening. She was welcome to do whatever she wanted to her face. It was hers. However, my body was mine. But I wasn’t going to fight tonight. The big argument was coming, so I didn’t want to chum the waters. At least, not yet. I was sure that my thread was about to snap. I guessed we’d see how long this lasted.
“She’s n
ot going to be in a practice. She’s going to be at a major hospital or university. That’s how you get into the best programs. She can’t just be a resident in some old practice.” My mother’s eyes tightened, ever so slightly. “We’ve already discussed this.”
“How about I go get that club soda?” I said, turning on my heel.
“Yes, yes, you know where it is,” my mother said, continuing her argument with my father.
I was exhausted already. I didn’t want to deal with any of this.
By the time I got my drink, we were ready to sit at the dinner table. Mother had had the meal catered as they both worked long hours. I was surprised that we’d even made dinner happen, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I loved my family. They gave me the opportunities to do what I wanted. To have choices. I just needed to be allowed to finish making them. And that was the crux of it.
Dillon’s childhood and life had been so much harder than mine. I had to make sure that my family understood that I needed to be my own person, one who made autonomous decisions.
Knowing that didn’t make this evening any easier.
We sat down for roasted chicken with rosemary, and three types of vegetables. There were no potatoes or rice pilaf or anything of the sort on the table. We had long since given up most carbs, though I knew my dad snuck in a roll or two at work.
I wasn’t going to rat him out tonight. Or ever.
“How are your classes going?” my mother asked.
“They’re great.”
“All As, I assume?” my father asked, his attention on his plate.
I nodded. “Yes, it’s been a tough and challenging semester, but I’ve enjoyed it.”
“Of course, you’re getting all As. We would expect nothing less.”
In other words, if I got anything but As, they would be disappointed in me, and I’d have to hear another lecture. It didn’t matter that I was paying for my semesters through scholarships and loans. That’s still what they wanted.
I was also taking at least three extra credit hours more than most people, which was why I couldn’t get a job as I wanted. I’d taken the loan to focus on those three to six extra credit hours a semester. That way, I could work on my double major. Only I wasn’t sure my parents truly understood why I was doing it. They never expected me to get a job. They had wanted to pay for school so I was always under their thumbs. When I politely declined, they assumed that I had just meant I was good enough to get a scholarship; therefore, I had to be the best. Yet they were still putting me under their thumbs.
I needed to get out of this situation. Tonight would be the big talk. I pushed my food around my plate, my stomach growing heavy. I wasn’t sure I could eat anything but the few bites I had already taken. My mother noticed, her eyes narrowing again.
“Have you set your schedule for the next semester yet? We’ve looked through the pamphlets and tried to call your counselor, but once again, they wouldn’t speak to us.”
I ground my molars. “Because I’m nearly twenty-one. You don’t have the authority to discuss my grades or anything else with the school.”
“We want what’s best for you,” Father added.
My mother waved it away, even as my father ground his teeth. “That doesn’t make any sense. We’re your parents. We tried so hard for you, darling. We want to make sure that you have everything you could ever need or want.”
I held back a sigh, not sure exactly what she meant by that. They’d tried so hard for me? “My grades are good, and I’ve been working on my schedule. It’s a little more complicated as I’m nearing my final year. That means I have to be careful about what classes overlap for the last two semesters. But I’m going to be taking a couple of summer classes, as well. They’re online so I can work on an internship, but it’s getting done.”
Both of my parents stopped eating and looked at me. My mom tilted her head.
“Internship?” she asked. She looked over at Dad. “Did you discuss this with her? I thought we were waiting until after her fourth year to work on internships. And I was going to get her first.”
They began arguing again, talking about their plans from before I was even born and what their child needed to accomplish. Honestly, with all their ideas of children and futures, I was always surprised that I was an only child. The amount of success they imagined for me always seemed like something for far more than only one child.
They always had plans and worked hard to achieve them. In another life I’d even appreciate them. I’d had everything I’d ever wanted, including their love and attention even with their busy jobs, but they were also demanding. So much so that it was hard not to be bitter about it. I let out a low growl. I hadn’t meant to let the sound escape, and they both looked at me.
“Excuse me?” my father said, his voice low.
I might as well begin here. “I got the internship on my own. It’s going to earn me credits, and though I won’t get paid, I’ll still be saving money when it comes to school since my summer classes don’t count towards the scholarship.”
“You know we’ll pay for it,” my mother said, and I shook my head.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t need that. I have it handled.”
“Where exactly is this internship?” my mother asked, her voice steely.
I set down my fork and knife and raised my chin. “As I said, I’m going to be a physical therapist. I’ll be working at a clinic, behind the scenes, and taking in as much as I can. I still have a lot of school and classes to come after I get my two bachelor’s degrees. So, yes, I got my internship. It was highly contested, but I did it.”
Dillon had been so proud of me. He and the boys, as well as my roommates, had thrown me a party. Just us and Mackenzie, where we had sheet cake from a grocery store and cheese and other random appetizers. It had been fun, sweet, and I had felt so proud of myself.
And all of that turned to dust at the look on my parents’ faces.
“No,” my mother said. “That was not our plan.”
I hated this, but I was determined to stand up for myself. “That wasn’t your plan or Dad’s. Though the two of you have separate plans from each other. And neither of them is mine.”
“After everything we’ve done for you, you’re going to do this?” my mother asked.
“Yes, I guess so. But I’m not doing it to you. I want to be a physical therapist.”
“You want to be common. You want to be in debt for the rest of your life. You’re not going to be a real doctor. What kind of hack do you think you are? The next thing we know, you’ll want to be a chiropractor.”
Mom and Dad began yelling at me and each other, and I shook my head, putting my hand on the edge of the table.
“I knew it was going to be like this, and I can’t do it. I’ve already made my decision. You don’t pay for anything for me. I’m here because I love you guys, but you need to stop.”
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” my mother said.
“And you don’t get to talk to me like you are. I am your daughter, but I’m not a little girl. Nor am I a minor any longer. I’ve made my decision. I’ve been doing so for a while. You need to let me.”
“No, you’ve made your mistakes and are going to live with them.” My mother searched my face and snarled. “It’s a boy, isn’t it? It always comes back to a boy.” She glared at my father. “I swear, this is your fault. It’s always your fault.”
My dad threw up his hands, pushed back from the table, and stomped out of the room without another word—his usual modus operandi. My mother’s gaze turned to me again. Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Well, who is he?”
My heart thudded, and I swallowed hard. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You were never a good liar. Is he the one putting these thoughts into your head? That he can be the one who makes all the money and takes care of you? Well, he’s wrong. Now, you listen to me. No matter how much money he makes, you have to do better. Because you
are a woman. Everything you do will be twice as hard. He gets everything he wants just by existing, and he probably gets between your legs, as well.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t act all pure to me. We’ve never been a family who’s discussed purity as something important. We know sex is biological and needed for those who desire it. However, if you are going to waste your life for some boy, don’t come back here. You said your semester was hard? I bet it was because your attention was divided. First, you live in that house with those girls with no ambition. With little Corinne and her happy, lucky life where she’s never had to work a day for anything. And now you’re with some boy? What does he want from you? What are his ambitions? Where does he come from? Nobody. He’s probably nobody. If he was somebody, you would have introduced him to us or said something.”
I just shook my head. “I haven’t even told you if I’m dating someone. And from the way you’re speaking, I wouldn’t. It’s none of your business anyway.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. “I’m going. Goodbye, Mother.”
“No. You listen to me.”
“I don’t have to. Not tonight.”
“Fine, if that’s your parting shot, I’m going to take mine. Boys are nice, and they get the job done every once in a while, but know this… All of these plans you have for your life? It’s going to be hard. You think your little junior year is hard now? It’s a whole lot harder out of school, honey. We are just trying to help you here. But you’re throwing it back in our faces. You’re spending all your time with this boy. And your roommates. No wonder school is so hard for you. It shouldn’t be. This is your easy year. Next year will be just as hard. And you think you’re going to be able to do well on this scholarship and take classes? No, not with your attention divided like this. So, you think long and hard about what you want from your life. Because if you keep throwing back what we do to help you in our faces, we’re not going to be here when you fail. And you will fail. Spectacularly.”
My One Night: An On My Own Novel Page 12
