Page 68 of Sing Your Secrets
“You told her?” Mom asks and Dad nods in response.
“She’s cool,” he says shooting me a wink. “Right? In fact, Reese was just telling me how she wants me to help her produce a few songs for her new…”
“Her new what? Boyfriend?” Mom’s eyes grow into starling large circles.
“Um…” I stall. Is Miles my boyfriend?
“If he’s your boyfriend, the answer is no,” Dad says.
Another reason I would probably have a promising career in law is that I am a skilled, quit-witted liar when I need to be. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend. I met him when I went to poke around The Garage. You always told me talent would reveal itself from anywhere if I kept my eyes open. Miles is talented. And my eyes are open. I just have this feeling, he could really be something.”
Dad shuffles his hands together and is quiet for a moment…debating. “Why don’t you help me?”
“What?”
“Yeah, I’ll give him a shot. We can play around in the studio, maybe just an EP to start. I’ll show you my process. I’ll teach you how to be a great producer. You were always itching to take the lead in the studio, maybe now’s a good time.” He smiles at me and it’s clear in this moment his willingness to help isn’t about helping Miles…it’s about helping me.
Mom interrupts before I can gleefully agree. Furrowing her brows, she says, “I don’t understand—so, you have time to mess around in the studio, but you don’t have time to study for your LSAT?”
I don’t have a good response outside of mind your own business, so I stay quiet and let the awkward silence fill the air. I didn’t think this obstacle through. Now, I’m sort of regretting not throwing that tantrum I wanted to earlier. I don’t need her pulling me back down to my mundane reality when my head and heart are on a cloud at the moment.
“Robin,” Dad mutters harshly but squeezes her shoulders affectionately. “Remember?”
“Sorry.” Mom looks me in the eyes and speaks a little more clearly. “Sorry, honey. It’s not my business.” Well said. And when the hell did Dad become the mom-tamer? Figuring out how to get her to apologize? Now that’s a class I would make time to take.
“Thank you.” I watch her mouth open and roll my eyes because I know she has more to say. “What?” I snap.
She pops her eyebrows at my attitude and presses her lips together. “You’re in a good place. Even if I think you’re capable of more, I’m proud of how far you’ve come—how much you’ve grown up. I don’t want to see you…” Her exhale is so sharp it could slice through a watermelon with ease. “Get lost again.”
“I know,” I say. My tone is completely devoid of sass or irritation because she makes a good point. When it all fell apart, Mom was there for me. When I was too weak to defend myself, she protected me. For that, I at least owe her some respect. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Okay. Good. Nothing wrong with just having fun,” she says. “Now, who wants a brownie?”
Dad and I both hesitate.
Mom’s a decent cook, but her baking is terrifying. Eggshells in the batter are the least of our concerns. She once subbed baking soda for flour and she thinks orange juice is a perfectly acceptable substitution for milk, to add a little flavor.
Dramatically rolling her eyes, she says, “They are from a Ghirardelli box mix. I only had to add three ingredients. Geez.”
Reassured, Dad and I both dive for the plate of dessert. “Mom?” I ask through a chocolatey mouthful. “Is there milk here?”
“Yeah.” She nods enthusiastically. “I’ll go get some.” She plants a quick kiss on my forehead before darting up the stairs. I realize that I never treat my mom…like a mom. Never once have I asked her to get me milk, help me with my laundry, or hold me while I cried. I just don’t remember her having time for all that. She was always on the way to class, or her internship, or studying for a test. When she landed her dream job, I never saw her.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, I fix my gaze on Dad who is already on his second brownie. “Why would the answer be no?”
“Huh?” he asks through a full mouth.
“If Miles and I were involved…you wouldn’t work with him? Is this a protective dad kind of thing?”
He tosses the brownie back on the tray in irritation. “You know Reese…it fucking kills me that the album that pays the bills, established my career, got me all this damn recognition”—he looks around the basement at the framed awards—“was made with the piece of shit that sent my only daughter into depression. And there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to him. Nothing I could do for you. I’m not going down that path again. You shouldn’t either—don’t mix business and pleasure.”
“Dad…” Fuck, after all this time…I still defend him. “Please don’t hold grudges for me.” The truth is, Petey never hit me, cheated on me, or directly lied to me. He just woke up one day and wanted something different and I got hurt because I wanted things to stay the same. “I don’t want you to have any regrets about what you and Petey built—because it was important, for both of you. Let’s just remember the good and try to forget the bad. Okay? It’s time to let all that go.”
“You really have grown up.” Leaning forward, he picks the brownie back up. “I’m proud of you,” Dad says before taking a big bite.
Yeah…you know what? I’m proud of myself too.