I Want It That Way - Aguirre Ann - Страница 55

“Hey, how did exams go?”

“Pretty well, I think. I worked hard this semester.” There had been no reason not to. No weekends away, no sex, no dates. If not for my roomies, people might’ve thought I’d joined a cult structured around abstinence and lack of fun.

“If you have time, your dad and I need to talk to you. Can you call us on Skype?”

“Sure,” I said as a cold hand twined around my intestines. In the years I’d been away at school, my parents had never shown any interest in video chat. “Just let me get my laptop.”

“Okay, honey. We’ll be here.”

Something’s really, really wrong.

On the way to my bedroom, I almost threw up. Somehow I choked it down and called them, as requested. It took a few tries for them to answer, and I could imagine Mom and Dad arguing about how to do it, just like the stupid pine tree. The mental image put a smile on my face, so I didn’t look scared or sick when they finally picked up.

“There you are,” my dad said.

He’d aged visibly since Thanksgiving, even more lines, more gray in his hair. That was enough to worry me, but the look in his eyes? I’d never seen anything like it—a reeling combination of fear and despair, reinforced in the slump of his shoulders. I couldn’t stand it. The only time I ever saw my dad cry was when he buried my grandmother, but that was a grief I could understand. As a kid, you think your father is invincible. You tell other kids that he can beat up their dad, and he will, if they don’t leave you alone.

This man was frightened. He resembled my father, but there was none of his quiet strength, none of the certainty, only hesitation and confusion. That was not my dad. Never in my life had he ever shown any sign that he didn’t know everything. He’s dying, I thought, and then I wanted to jam a metal spike into the brain that could consider such a thing.

I take it back. I take it back, okay?

The silence went on too long, and my mom took Dad’s hand, as if to give him courage.

“Here I am,” I answered eventually. “What did you want to talk about?”

Cancer, it’s cancer.

Stark terror flooded me, sparking behind my eyes. Apart from me, the apartment was empty, so there would be nobody to catch me after I hung up with them, after I pretended to be strong and sure, all the things they’d need from me. I schooled my face, trying—for once—not to show everything.

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” my mom started.

My whole body locked.

Dad touched her lightly on the cheek, such a tender gesture for so many years together. “No, I should tell her.”

She breathed in. Out. “Okay.”

“Last year, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. I’ve tried to manage it so I could keep working, but I’m not steady enough anymore. At the end of the month, I’ll be unemployed.”

For a few seconds, I was beyond breathing as thoughts whirled in my head. What the hell is Parkinson’s? I’d heard of it, something to do with Michael J. Fox, but I couldn’t remember anything. Is it terminal?

“Give me a sec, okay?”

Quickly I brought up the browser and Googled. Disorder of the brain that leads to shaking (tremors) and difficulty with walking, movement and coordination. Can be genetic or caused by environmental factors like exposure to pesticides. Then I read a quick article about how Michael J. Fox had been battling it for over twenty years. Relief crackled through me when I realized it was a degenerative condition, but not an automatically fatal one. It doesn’t mean I’m losing him in a month or even a year. It’s treatable. I flipped back to the chat window and found my dad hugging my mom.

“Sorry, I just wanted to know more. I figured it would be faster to read it.”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Mom said.

A deep breath trickled out. “I thought it was worse. Do you want me to come home? I can quit my job to help out, whatever you need, Dad.”

At least the school year’s over. At first, I wasn’t thinking about leaving Mount Albion, but I could. My credits would transfer and—

“Only if that’s what you want,” he said. “Don’t do it for me.”

“Or us,” Mom added. “We’ll be okay. Rob’s here, and your father and I, we can weather anything, as long as we’re together.”

I want that, I thought. And then, I had that.

Mom smiled as he squeezed her around the shoulders. “The reason we’re telling you this, honey, is because it impacts your future. Your dad tried so hard to hang on until after your senior year, but it’s not going to happen. On my salary, we can’t afford our bills and your tuition, too. I’m sorry, but this last year, you’re on your own.”

My dad picked up, continuing as couples who had been together a long time often did. “You needed to know what’s going on, so you can make plans. Tuition will be cheaper in state, but you won’t have a scholarship. You could transfer like Lauren’s doing, and you’ll save money by living at home. But don’t come back expecting to take care of me. I’m not that sick yet.”

Mom nodded. “Your dad will look for work, but the economy’s rough right now.”

“At my age and with my health problems, it’s unlikely I’ll find anything.” The admission came out coated in shame, as if he hadn’t already done so much. “In time, I might get disability, but it won’t be enough to help you. I’m sorry, bean.”

I said in exasperation, “Would you stop apologizing? Dad, I only care about you. I couldn’t give two shits about tuition right now.”

My mom frowned. “You should. All you’ve talked about since you were sixteen is getting your degree.”

Because I want to make you proud. I wanted to teach, too, but for as long as I could remember, my parents praised me for being smart. They talked about how I’d get out of Sharon and make something of myself. No retail job for me, no minimum wage. I’d never wash dishes or mop floors. I was too clever for that, bound for better things. So I had been trying to live up to their expectations: never miss work, study hard and don’t fuck up my chances.

Maybe it’s time I said it out loud. But I couldn’t look at them while I did, so I stared at my hands. “That’s because I don’t want to disappoint you. I thought you’d be upset if I took longer than four years or I didn’t get summa cum laude or—”

“Only if you’re unhappy.” My mom sounded shocked, shaken even.

Timidly I glanced at the screen. My dad whispered something to my mom and she nodded. “If it’s okay with you, he’s going to lie down. This seems like a talk we need to have alone first. I’ll fill him in later.”

I nodded. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” At home, he would’ve mussed my hair or poked me in the side.

It was harder to share certain things in front of him. Since he was the strong, silent type, I always felt like he thought I should be, too. Rob took after him in that respect; my brother never admitted to a feeling that I could recall. So my mom was kind of the bridge between all of us, trying to make us understand each other—with varying degrees of success.

“Okay, let’s back up. You mean you’re doing all of this for us?”

“Well, no. But...” I struggled to find the words. “I do feel some pressure to perform. My grades have to stay above a certain level for my scholarship, and if I don’t do well here, then it’s like you wasted all of that money on me, when you should’ve kept it for yourselves. Now that Dad’s sick, you might need it more than ever. So I never miss work because I don’t want you to think you made a mistake, believing in me, trusting me.”

“Nadia, honey, it sounds like you spend an awful lot of time fretting about us, what we think and how we’ll feel. But it’s your life.”

“And there’s a right way to live it, huh, Mom?” I didn’t realize her warning from Thanksgiving was still eating at me, but I could quote it by heart. “‘This boy has already gotten some girl pregnant and messed up his future. You can do better. Find someone who can start a family with you when the time is right.’”