I scroll up to view the first message that we all missed: As promised. Hi GF. Sorry I'm late but ur boy is on duty. U There?
I gasp and pull the phone into my chest. No need to read that out loud! My cheeks start burning a new round of fire.
“See? You're already hugging your phone and acting weird,” Dad says, also speaking with his mouth full. Not at all his best look. He shakes his head, and gives me a sad look. “I'm going to miss you, honey.”
Before looking up, I make certain the entire conversation is cleared. Deleted. Gone.
I think Mom's been watching me closely the whole time because she, like me, has not touched one bite of her dessert. “Come on, we're waiting for some details.”
I wonder if this is what Gray sees in my expression when he calls me relentless .
Who knew Mom and I had that in common?
Thankful I can still feel my cheeks flaming, I go for my flustered and embarrassed version of this scenario. It seems the easiest because, I happen to be both right now.
I push at my plate and fold my arms over my chest, using what I call the ‘therapy voice’. A voice I learned to use from my years with Dr. Brodie. “I need you all to do me a favor,” I start and let out a long, patient— time to communicate —sigh.
Mom smiles. I know for a fact she loves conversations like this.
Kika and Dad do not .
They stop eating and regard me cautiously as though I might be about to have one of my flip-outs. I almost crack a smile because they are so darn funny. Both have forks in the air and whipped cream stuck on their lips.
“We're listening. Go on,” Mom urges gently.
I turn all of my attention back to her. She's the one that I need to convince the most. If I do it right, the others will take her lead. “I need you to hear me on this. Don't interrupt, okay?”
They all nod.
I flash the iPhone in my hand and begin my performance: “This is just a guy . A friend. Well, maybe a friend, like I said, I don't know. And, okay fine…I think I like him, as a friend, of course. ” I hold up my hand in case anyone tries to burst in. “And, he thinks I'm…cool or a possible friend back. Or…something good enough to want to text me, anyhow. Okay?”
“Sure,” Kika says.
“Okay,” Dad says.
Kika and Dad resume eating their shortcake. I turn to Mom and blink, waiting for her response because I know she she's going to pry. She just can't stop herself.
“Oh, honey, we think that's just great. Of course he's just a guy and it's no big deal. We only want to know—”
“Mom. Stop. Just stop.” I've raised my voice, and now I hold out my hands like an orchestra conductor.
Kika and Dad pause again, this time with shortcake-filled forks halfway to their very open mouths.
This is going so on cue I could swear they'd studied their scripts beforehand.
I take in a long, tortured sounding breath and then head into my monologue: “Maybe I'm not being clear. I'm asking you guys to back off and let me enter into this friendship—whatever it is with this guy on my own . And to also let me handle this new internship on my own . Meaning—all of you need to please stay off my back. Don't attack me with a ton of questions. I know you love me, but if the purpose of this summer is for me to prove that I'm going to be able to make it in college, you must let me give things a shot without analyzing my every move. Or text. I'm asking for some simple respect. Please, don't ask me any questions, spy on me or invade my privacy in any way.”
“Well, you aren't going to have a teenage, summer rebellion spree, young lady .” Mom's turned all red. Getting fired up as ususal—but I'm ready for this rebuttal.
Wait for it…wait for it.
Mom crosses her arms and goes into full attorney-style argument-mode. “We're going to have to know some things about what you're doing! Asking for names is to be expected .”
I flip the switch on her and gentle my voice into absolute agreement. “I know that, Mom. And you're right. I'm sorry if I'm being
I gasp and pull the phone into my chest. No need to read that out loud! My cheeks start burning a new round of fire.
“See? You're already hugging your phone and acting weird,” Dad says, also speaking with his mouth full. Not at all his best look. He shakes his head, and gives me a sad look. “I'm going to miss you, honey.”
Before looking up, I make certain the entire conversation is cleared. Deleted. Gone.
I think Mom's been watching me closely the whole time because she, like me, has not touched one bite of her dessert. “Come on, we're waiting for some details.”
I wonder if this is what Gray sees in my expression when he calls me relentless .
Who knew Mom and I had that in common?
Thankful I can still feel my cheeks flaming, I go for my flustered and embarrassed version of this scenario. It seems the easiest because, I happen to be both right now.
I push at my plate and fold my arms over my chest, using what I call the ‘therapy voice’. A voice I learned to use from my years with Dr. Brodie. “I need you all to do me a favor,” I start and let out a long, patient— time to communicate —sigh.
Mom smiles. I know for a fact she loves conversations like this.
Kika and Dad do not .
They stop eating and regard me cautiously as though I might be about to have one of my flip-outs. I almost crack a smile because they are so darn funny. Both have forks in the air and whipped cream stuck on their lips.
“We're listening. Go on,” Mom urges gently.
I turn all of my attention back to her. She's the one that I need to convince the most. If I do it right, the others will take her lead. “I need you to hear me on this. Don't interrupt, okay?”
They all nod.
I flash the iPhone in my hand and begin my performance: “This is just a guy . A friend. Well, maybe a friend, like I said, I don't know. And, okay fine…I think I like him, as a friend, of course. ” I hold up my hand in case anyone tries to burst in. “And, he thinks I'm…cool or a possible friend back. Or…something good enough to want to text me, anyhow. Okay?”
“Sure,” Kika says.
“Okay,” Dad says.
Kika and Dad resume eating their shortcake. I turn to Mom and blink, waiting for her response because I know she she's going to pry. She just can't stop herself.
“Oh, honey, we think that's just great. Of course he's just a guy and it's no big deal. We only want to know—”
“Mom. Stop. Just stop.” I've raised my voice, and now I hold out my hands like an orchestra conductor.
Kika and Dad pause again, this time with shortcake-filled forks halfway to their very open mouths.
This is going so on cue I could swear they'd studied their scripts beforehand.
I take in a long, tortured sounding breath and then head into my monologue: “Maybe I'm not being clear. I'm asking you guys to back off and let me enter into this friendship—whatever it is with this guy on my own . And to also let me handle this new internship on my own . Meaning—all of you need to please stay off my back. Don't attack me with a ton of questions. I know you love me, but if the purpose of this summer is for me to prove that I'm going to be able to make it in college, you must let me give things a shot without analyzing my every move. Or text. I'm asking for some simple respect. Please, don't ask me any questions, spy on me or invade my privacy in any way.”
“Well, you aren't going to have a teenage, summer rebellion spree, young lady .” Mom's turned all red. Getting fired up as ususal—but I'm ready for this rebuttal.
Wait for it…wait for it.
Mom crosses her arms and goes into full attorney-style argument-mode. “We're going to have to know some things about what you're doing! Asking for names is to be expected .”
I flip the switch on her and gentle my voice into absolute agreement. “I know that, Mom. And you're right. I'm sorry if I'm being
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