money on it. I'll go back when I know.”
“You're going to forget everything you learned. You're pissing your life away for nothing!” my dad said, slamming his hands onto the counter.
The crappy part about being in the moment was that I had to be in it. And all I wanted to do right then was be anywhere but standing up to the both of them. I knew they were looking out for what they thought was best for me, but I wasn't sure college was best anymore.
“Dad, I have a degree! I didn't quit. I know you're mad, but I'm not changing my mind. It's my life and my money. It's not your money paying for my classes; it's mine, and I don't want to waste it.
“And we don't want you to waste your life. We'll do parent loans and help,” Mom said.
“I don't want your help! I need to figure me out. I love working at the gym. People are fit and healthy there. They're not in pain and recovering. I can show them how to be better, how to train harder, and sculpt their bodies. I like it. Maybe I like it better than fixing broken people.”
“You're barely making more than minimum wage,” Dad countered.
“So?”
“So?! You can't live off of that.”
“Not forever, but I'll be fine for now.”
“You live at home. We're taking care of most of your bills. You need a career.”
“I can do it on my own. You want me to leave? I will; you know I will!”
I heard almost the same conversation between them and Theo when he decided not to enlist. Only they took it easier on him because he wasn't giving up on his future the way they said I was. Baseball scholarship or not, they blamed the reason he wanted to stay in Washington on his girl, and they blamed me taking a break on the gym. I think, deep down, Dad wanted us all to follow him into the Air Force and no decision, not a full-ride baseball scholarship, not a career in physical therapy, would have made him happy but that.
“That's not the point, Tatum. The point is you need to focus on your future.”
“But I don't! I'm barely twenty! I have my whole life in front of me and I'm not some spoiled rich kid that can afford to get three years into a degree and figure out it's not what I want to do. I don't want to enlist ... I don't. No offense to you Dad,” I said, “or to the military, but I can't stand around and have people tell me what to do all day or go get blown up or raped. It's not for me. This is the best thing for me right now.”
“Sweetie, you're young. You don't know ...” Mom started.
“Mom, stop! My mind's made up, OK? I just wanted to tell you so you stop asking what my class line-up is for September. There is no next year ... for now. I'm taking a break, for who knows how long. I'll let you know when I do.”
In retaliation for their not understanding me I pierced my lip. I always wanted a lip ring. I think it made my point rather well.
What I didn't expect was for Brett to side with me. He didn't want to enlist and miss his shot at a scholarship like Theo's, or better yet, get picked up and drafted straight into the league teams. So far no one had approached him in school but there were rumors his senior year, we all heard them, and scouts were watching him the way they had watched Theo. There were league scouts watching him, too, not just college scouts. Brett wanted nothing more than to make it to the majors. If he got picked up, his dreams could come true; if he enlisted, he wouldn't be able to take any deals. He knew, like I did, that Dad was going to flip if another one of his kids dodged enlistment, but Brett never wanted anything but baseball; Theo, Thomas and I all played around with the idea of enlisting, dangling it like a carrot in front of my dad, but only Thomas followed through. It was less of a surprise when Brett broke it to them, but the tension was still thick. Living around the house, me dodging school, and Brett dodging enlistment, was difficult for us all.
That's when Brett and I decided to make our move. We talked about it before,
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