by Amy Sparling
I smile to ease her fears a bit. “Remember last night?” She nods. “Um, I wasn’t joking about it. I really want to quit college. At least for a little bit.”
She takes another sip of coffee. “Why is that?”
Suddenly the well-rehearsed speech I had formed in my mind while making my cereal is gone. Totally erased from my memory by the power of Mom’s piercing stare. “Well…I’m not doing so well in my classes,” I begin.
Mom shrugs. “You get the same degree with C’s as you do with A’s. As long as you’re passing, who cares?
“That’s just it, Mom. I’m going for a general studies associate’s degree. You can’t exactly get a job with that, and right now I’m not doing great in my classes and I kind of hate it. I think I can have a better career with my art.”
“I’m listening.” Those are the words Mom says to me, but the look on her face indicates the exact opposite.
“I’m making money with my art.”
“Honey, artists never make money. That’s exactly where the term ‘starving artist’ comes from.”
I take out my phone and open up my Etsy store to the page with how much money I’ve made this month. “I made almost two thousand dollars last month and I’m already at fifteen hundred now. The month is only half over so I might end up with three thousand dollars.”
“Wow. That’s impressive, honey.” She scrolls through the website on my phone. “You should charge more than thirty five dollars though.”
“That’s what Park thinks too. I’ll consider it.” Hopefully by agreeing with her, she’ll see things my way. After a few minutes of me nervously watching her look through my Etsy account, she slides the phone back to me. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” I ask.
“No.”
“But, Mom—I’m making a lot of money. If I quit college I can work harder on my art and sell even more. Park thinks I should expand into prints on coffee mugs and stuff.”
“I absolutely agree that you should expand your business, but honey you take two classes just two days a week. Work on your art during the other five days.”
I stir my spoon around in my cereal which is now so soggy I don’t want to eat it. “But Mom, I hate college.”
“I don’t care, Becca. Your father and I are paying for you to get an education and that’s what you’re going to do. Stop sighing like that.”
I close my eyes and bite my tongue. The last thing I need to do is get into an argument with my mom, but I was really hoping she’d be more open to the idea. “You know this is my dream, right?” I say, in one last desperate bid to win her over to my way of thinking. “Isn’t that the whole point of life? Following your dreams. Finding what makes you happy and doing it? I’ve found that, Mom. It’s my art. I don’t need a college degree to create something that people want to buy.”
“Even so, you’ll need a business degree to run your own business. You’ll need education on taxes and bookkeeping. All of that is something you learn in college, not by following your gut.”
“What if I just take a year off?” I ask. She gets up and pours herself another cup of coffee and I expand on my idea. “Just one year away from college so I can focus on my art and if it takes off like I want it to, then I’ll go back to college. And if it doesn’t, and these last two months were just a fluke, then I’ll know and at least I would have tried. Then I’ll go back to college. See? It works out both ways.”
It’s a lie. It’s a total lie and I hope Mom doesn’t see it that way. The truth is, if I succeed with my art, I’ll be able to hire someone to do my bookkeeping and my taxes. If I end up making a living with my art, then I will do what’s best for me when it’s time for it. But Mom doesn’t need to know all of that. She just needs to agree to let me drop out.
“Honey, I appreciate your effort here, but you’re not quitting college. As long as you live under my roof, you will attend Lawson Community College.”
Since Park is meeting with Jace all day to work on their new business, I rode with him to Mixon to hang out with Bayleigh. The boys are in the living room with paperwork and calculators and we’re in Bayleigh’s room, playing with Jett.
Bayleigh’s eyes light up when I recount the talk with my mom from this morning. “Looks like we know what that means,” she says, punching my arm playfully.
“It means I’m freaking screwed,” I mutter.
“No…” She draws out the word so long that I look up at her and lift an eyebrow.
“Uh, yes?” I say. “She’s not going to let me quit college.”
“She said not while you’re under her roof.”
“Trust me, I heard that part loud and clear. But even if I make three thousand dollars a month, there’s no guarantee I’ll make that every month plus I have to pay taxes on it and there’s no way I could afford my own apartment and all the bills that come with it.” I sigh and rest my head in my hands. Even Jett’s adorable baby smile doesn’t cheer me up right now. “I’ll be living with my parents for a while. That means I’m stuck in college.”
“Okay first of all, you’re lucky because I want to go to college and I can’t until Jett is older, and secondly, you’re totally missing the point, Becca.” She points toward her bedroom door, signaling to where the boys are in the living room. “You don’t have to pay your own apartment bills. You just have to share them with someone.”
“You mean Park?” I ask. The very idea of living with Park makes me lightheaded. “I don’t know about that.”
“Don’t tell me you guys haven’t talked about you moving in yet? I mean, hello! He just bought a house! A man doesn’t need that big freaking house all to himself.”
“We’ve danced around the subject, but we haven’t actually talked about it.”
She leans into me with her shoulder. “Whyyyy not? Come on, Becca! Dooooo it.”
I laugh. “It’s not like I can just pack up my stuff and move in with him. He has to ask me and all of that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Uh, yeah you can. Here I’ll help you pack.” She pretends to stand up. “Let’s go get your stuff and move you in today.”
“It’s not like that. I kind of need the guy’s permission first. Preferably, I’d like it if he asks me to move in. I don’t want to be the kind of girl that begs to live with him.”
“I get what you’re saying and all of that, but you’re not that kind of girl. Park is crazy about you and I know he’d be psyched if you moved in with him.”
Before I speak, I make sure to lower my voice just in case anyone happens to be walking by the door. “It’s easy for you to say that because you have this perfect fairytale romance thing going on. I can’t ask him to let me move in. He has to ask me on his own.”
“He’ll ask.”
“I hope so.” I smile and think about the guy who has captured my heart and is currently hanging out on the other side of Bayleigh’s apartment. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the guy I want with me for the rest of my life.
Chapter 12
My dad has Thanksgiving off work for the first time in forever, so my parents go all out to celebrate the holiday. Instead of buying a pre-cooked turkey from the market like usual, Mom actually cooks one herself, making the stuffing from scratch and everything. I participate in the same way I do every year, by making the pies. One pumpkin, one apple and one chocolate. I don’t have a favorite—they are all equally delicious.
This is my second Thanksgiving as a couple with Park, but it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together. Mom invited him over for dinner but Dad said he should come over early to watch football. My parents both really like Park, but that doesn’t stop my anxiety levels from going through the roof the moment he arrives.
I rush to the front door the second the doorbell rings. I’ve seen my boyfriend a million times but on this occasion, it feels like a first date all over again. My fingers fumble with opening the door, and when I do, I’m greeted first by a bouquet of flowers.
“Happy
Thanksgiving, love.” Park leans in for a quick kiss on my cheek and I take the flowers he gives me.
“Thanksgiving isn’t a flower-giving occasion, you know,” I tease him as I let him into the foyer and close the door behind us.
“When you’re dating a cop’s daughter, every occasion is a flower-giving occasion.”
He takes off his suede jacket, revealing a black long-sleeved button up shirt that fits him as if it was tailored to his muscles. Instantly, I feel underdressed in my teal knee-length dress with a shimmery overlay of lace.
“Park is here!” I call out to my parents as we walk into the kitchen. Dad yells for Park to join him in the living room and Mom showers him with offers of food and drink. Okay, so maybe this day won’t be as awkward as I had imagined.
During dinner, Park acts like a total gentleman. It’s almost as if he’s an entirely different person from the laid back guy I know. He’s proper and polite and eats with a fork and a knife. I’m weirdly proud of him, of the guy I’ve brought home to meet my parents and how well put together he is.
I kind of want to shout, “See, Mom and Dad? Park quit his job and started a business and you love him! Why can’t you let me do the same thing?” But I don’t. I’m smarter than that.
Dad asks about Park’s house and how the renovations are going. They talk about flooring and air conditioning and Dad offers to help him with repairs. Everything is going really well, better than I could have expected. And after dinner, everyone, including my mom who is perpetually on a diet, likes all three of my pies. It turns out that eating a slice of each on one plate is the actual definition of heaven.
“So, Park,” Dad says, throwing an arm around his shoulder as he walks us to the front door. Mom and Dad have agreed to let me out of family Thanksgiving early to go see a movie with Park. “In the last few months, you’ve moved away from your home down and came all the way here to Texas. That’s a big life change.”
“Yes, sir it was.” Park doesn’t skip a beat. “It was the right move for my career.”
“Uh, huh,” Dad says. “And did Becca have maybe a small part in your decision?”
Park doesn’t hide the emotion in his eyes when he replies. “Yes, sir. She certainly had a lot to do with it.”
Chapter 13
While the rest of the nation crams into super long lines at four in the morning on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Bayleigh and I have a better idea. We do our Christmas shopping on December first. It’s after the stupid Black Friday rush of idiocy, at least that’s what Bayleigh calls it, and it’s before the stores get insanely packed with Christmas shoppers.
December first is the perfect date for holiday shopping.
Now, if only I knew what to get Park.
Last year had been easy. Park’s favorite band, Zombie Radio, had a gig in Houston and I’d managed to score backstage meet and green passes along with front row seats. It had taken two weeks of listening to the radio and calling in thirty million times, but my dedication had paid off. It was a free present, but Park said it was the best one he’d ever gotten.
Trying to find a way to top that gift this year will be next to impossible.
“Why don’t you just give him the gift of sex?” Bayleigh suggests. “You can’t beat that.”
“Oh my God, shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes as I find a great parking spot just outside of the mall. My shopping list today includes about a million toys for Jett, and collector’s addition box set of the Blood Crave series by Christina Channelle for Mom. She’s obsessed with young adult books and that’s her favorite author, so she should love it.
Dad’s gift will be a new wallet for his police badge since the one he has now is all worn out and looks like it’s survived through about twenty apocalypses. For Bayleigh, I’m getting her a gift card to Victoria’s Secret (which is what we get each other every year) and as many bottles of nail polish as I can fit into one shopping bag at Sephora.
I’m not exactly sure what I’ll get Ollie, but I know it’ll be in the form of some kind of t-shirt at his favorite surf shop in the mall. I have everyone figured out and accounted for; everyone except for the most important guy in my life right now.
I sigh as we walk inside the mall. Bayleigh has been talking this entire time but I haven’t even heard a word she’s said, thanks to being caught up in my own world of obsessing over Park. I smile and nod at her and she keeps talking, totally unaware of how much of a bad friend I am. Good. She doesn’t need to know that I’m so pathetic I can’t even put Park out of my mind for five minutes.
After a few hours of shopping, my best friend and I have a dozen bags between the two of us, and we’re all shopped out. Everyone on my list is accounted for except for Park, and it’s been a pretty good day despite that.
Since I’m driving, I take Bayleigh over to her mom’s house so we can pick up Jett and I can’t help myself—I give him one of the toys I had picked out for him at the surf shop. It’s a stuffed shark and he loves it. It’s official. I am the coolest godmother around.
When I get home later, I drop off all of my presents and hide them in the back of my closet. Three of my paintings sold while we were at the mall, so I find the right canvases and pack them up with a shipping label to drop off at the post office before heading to Park’s house.
This is the first Christmas of my life where I’m not worried about needing money to buy gifts. And now, that I have literally hundreds of dollars that I could use on a gift for Park, I can’t think of a single thing to get him.
When I get there, I let myself in because the front door is wide open. “Park?” I call out from the foyer.
“Be there in a second,” he calls out from somewhere upstairs. I walk toward the staircase and get there right when Park comes barreling down them, covered in sweat and wearing a smile the size of Texas. “Hey there,” he says.
I go to rush into his arms, but immediately stop when my hands get soaked against his back. “Ugh,” I say, stepping back.
Park laughs. “Sorry, I was working on the house.”
“Well hurry and shower because I need some massive cuddle time.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Is everything okay?”
I nod. “I am stressed out about something but it’s not a big deal.”
“What is it?”
I push him gently with my hands. “Shower first. Talk later.”
Hours later, we’re cuddled on the couch and I’ve just poured my heart out to him. “Seriously? Christmas presents?” he says, gently stroking my hair with his fingers. “You seemed really upset earlier and it was just because you don’t know what to get me?” He shakes his head and laughs as if that’s the silliest reason to be upset.
Okay, so, maybe I didn’t tell him everything.
“Yeah,” I say. “My present last year was so great and this year I can’t think of anything to get you. You’re a guy who doesn’t really want many things.”
He squeezes me closer and grabs the remote to turn down the volume. “You’re all I need.”
“You can’t say that. I want to get you something. But there’s no way I can top last year’s present.”
“Every year doesn’t have to top the year before it, babe. If you really want to blow me away this Christmas…” He places a finger to his lips as if he’s concentrating and he looks around the living room. “I need dishes, a welcome mat for the front door, some more towels…basically anything for this house and I’d be psyched.”
“So maybe I’ll just get you a nice toaster and call it a day,” I say with a laugh.
“I like toast. That would work.”
I roll my eyes. “I have to give you something good.” Then, because I’m a little insane with anxiety over the sex topic, and because I’d like to judge his reaction, I muster up some boldness and say, “Maybe I’ll cover myself with whipped cream and give you myself as a present.”
“Mmmm,” he says, tucking his lips in the space between my head and shoulder. “That would be
the present of the century.”
“Would that count as a present?” I ask lightly, as if it’s a joke. It is so not a joke.
“It’d be the best present ever.”
All the blood in my entire body rushes to my cheeks as I say, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 14
The smell of Mom’s delicious lasagna makes my mouth water as I put the finishing touches on my family’s presents. Mom always makes a lasagna for Christmas Eve dinner. The tradition in our family is as old as I am. Dad always works Christmas day for the double overtime pay and we celebrate on Christmas Eve.
As a kid it was awesome because I got all my presents from Mom and Dad a day early and then I woke up to even more presents from Santa Claus. Now the magic of Santa is gone, but I find more joy in seeing my parents open their gifts now that I’m old enough to afford some.
This year I went a little overboard with the gift buying, but I couldn’t help myself since I have so much money at the moment. My paintings have been selling like crazy, probably thanks to the Christmas rush, and I have over six thousand dollars in my account. Mom almost lost her mind when I said I’d like to start paying for my cell phone and car insurance bill. It just doesn’t feel right letting my parents pay for stuff when I’m almost twenty years old and can actually afford it myself.
I cap the pen I had used to write “from Santa” and “from Aunt Becca” on the gift tags for Jett’s presents. Then I adorn the boxes of colorfully wrapped presents with sparkly bows.
Now I can smell the garlic bread from the kitchen, so I know dinner is almost ready. I grab Mom and Dad’s presents, which ended up being six gifts for each of them, and rush them out to put under the tree, leaving behind Jett and Bayleigh’s gifts, and of course, Park’s.
I went a little overboard for Park, too. I got him the toaster, some silverware, a blender for those shakes he likes but never makes because he doesn’t have a blender, a motocross themed shower curtain and bathmat, and some curtains for his bedroom because the moonlight is crazy bright from where the gigantic windows that face his bed.
