Page 15 of Something Forever
“I’m good, Dad, thanks. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Listen, Stacy’s got a work trip coming up in a couple of months, so I thought I’d head up to the city to come see you. See what you’re cooking up in that lab of yours!”
Shit.
Oh, sorry Dad, did I forget to mention that I’ve dropped out of grad school and I’m now a bartender at a shitty dive? It’s not the type of announcement one generally wants to make over the phone — or at all, for that matter.
“Oh, cool,” I say, hoping my voice sounds neutral. “When are you thinking?”
“First weekend of November.”
“Won’t I see you at Christmas?” I try, hoping I can put our reunion off a little longer.
“You don’t want to go to Brighton to see your mum for the holidays? You know she’s been dying to have you over there, and she loves Christmas.”
Ever since my parents split when I was fifteen, I’ve been the pawn between them. The annoying thing is they are both so bloody nice about it, insisting the other one should have more time with me. I’m half-convinced neither of them wants to be stuck with me. They’re on good terms now, but there was a bit of a bad patch when I didn’t speak to my mum for a few years. There was a lot I didn’t understand; I thought she’d cheated on my dad, but really they’d already been separated for a while and hadn’t told me about it. Then, I didn’t get why she wouldn’t move to America with us to make it work, why she would let her whole family disappear across the ocean just to date some bloke she hardly knew. Now she’s been married to that bloke for ten years. Dad met Stacy when we moved to Philadelphia, and they’ve been together ever since.
“I dunno if I wanna go all the way home, Dad. It’s a lot.”
“I know you’ve got your feelings about Simon, but you really ought to get to know him more. He’s a great guy, and he really loves your mum.”
“I know that,” I grumble. I hate that any mention of Simon causes me to regress into an angsty teenager with step-daddy issues. It’s pathetic. “It’s not about him.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I sigh. “There’s no problem.”
“Great! Then I’ll see you in November, and I’ll let your mum know you’ll come for the holidays.”
“Lovely,” I mutter sarcastically. This is why I’ve been avoiding his calls. He’s got a way of roping me into whatever he’s got planned.
“Any hotel recommendations close to your dorms? I don’t want to have to take a cab everywhere.”
“Nobody takes cabs anymore, and I moved.”
“You moved out of the dorms?”
Shit. How do I explain this without telling him that I’ve dropped out?
“Yeah, um. Just felt like it was time to be a bit more independent, you know? Plus, there were bad memories and all…”
“Right. Right.”
It’s quiet for a moment.
“Well, what’s the new place like?”
I glance around and take in my spacious room. “It’s great. It’s a two-bed in Bushwick. It’s really nice, actually.”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see it. You got a pull-out couch?”
“I think it’s a futon? It’s my flatmate’s.”
“Even better. You know how much a hotel room costs these days? It’s insane. Inflation is out of control.”
I don’t bother to answer. He’s mostly talking to himself, and I don’t feel like complaining about the price of eggs. (Although, seven dollars? What a fucking joke.)
“Well, as long as your flatmate doesn’t mind, I’d love to crash! We’ll be boys on the town. Boys in the house!”