Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute(79)
Dad appears to be frozen. Mum asks carefully, “Applied to study what, sweetheart?”
“Um. English.”
Dad is still frozen. I am slightly (massively) concerned.
Mason is laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach like a cartoon, my jelly abandoned. “What? Why?”
“You…you don’t even study English at school now,” Mum says.
“I know but my grades are good, and my personal statement is incredible.” That’s what Celine called it. Incredible.
Ouch. No thinking about Celine.
“What?” That’s Dad, finally, his voice thready with disbelief. “But…when…you told me you had— Why would you do this?” He leans forward, puts a hand on my forehead as if to check my temperature. “Are you okay?” He’s scanning my body like he might discover a badge that says TEMPORARILY ADDLED, DON’T LISTEN TO A WORD THIS PERSON SAYS. Maybe he finds it because he starts to laugh nervously. “Of course. You’ve bumped your head, son. That’s o—”
“I’m not delusional, Dad.” I try to roll my eyes and discover the hard way that that is not a good idea. “Ow.”
“CAN WE GET SOME MORE PAINKILLERS FOR MY SON, PLEASE?” Dad gets louder when he is panicking.
A nurse with a pink hijab and a steely gaze sticks her head between the curtains and practically pins him to a wall. “Sir. There are children sleeping.”
Dad clears his throat. “Right. Sorry.”
The nurse softens. “I’ll see what we can do.” She disappears.
“Why would you want to study…anything else?” Dad demands as soon as she’s gone. “Is this…Are you feeling too much pressure? I was worried you might. You shouldn’t. You can do anything, Brad, anything at all—”
I know I can because that’s how he raised me. “Like English?” I suggest.
Dad is baffled. “You love law! You were so excited—”
“No, he wasn’t, Dad,” Mason says, boredom dripping from each word. “You were excited. Brad didn’t care.”
I blink at my little brother, astonished.
He tuts and shifts in his chair self-consciously. “What? You’re not subtle.”
I have no idea what to say except…“Thanks?”
Mason is appalled. “I’m not, like, helping you. Just glad I won’t be the only family disappointment.”
Both my parents start at that, like they’ve been electrocuted. “I beg your pardon?” Mum demands. “Mason Ashley Graeme, you are not a disappointment. I don’t ever want to hear that out of your mouth again.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mason snorts. “Admit it. You want us to be like Emily. You want us to be like you. But I’m not a genius—”
“Mase,” I say. “You’re a football genius. That’s just as good. You know that, right?”
He falters, splotches of red climbing up his neck. “Well. Whatever.” His scowl returns but it’s not nearly as hard-core. Mason turns toward our parents. “The point is, I don’t like school, and Brad is a genius, but he doesn’t even care. So get over it, both of you.”
Dad holds up his hands, his frown pure confusion. “Boys. What is this all about? You know we don’t care what you do in life. We just want you to be happy.”
“Then why do you make me study when I’m going to be a footballer?” Mason demands.
“Because if your legs fall off, you’re going to need a proper education, Mason!” Mum says, exasperated. “Why do you think? We only want the best for you!”
“And why were you so upset,” I ask Dad, “when I mentioned before that I didn’t want to study law?”
Dad’s mouth drops open and stays that way for long seconds before he answers. “I…I…You took me by surprise. I don’t understand. I thought…” He looks so sad for a moment I sort of feel bad. But then he pulls himself together and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m sorry, to both of you, if we’ve ever made you feel like you can’t…live the lives you want.” He looks at me. “I thought you were passionate about law, Brad. I thought you just needed support. I didn’t realize it wasn’t actually something you wanted.”
In fairness, I never told him either. All the tension coiled in my gut unwinds, leaving behind relief and a little pit of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I say, because I really am. He’s my dad. And I assumed he’d, what, lock me in the house and insist I could only follow the path he chose? All my worry, all my sneaking around, feels so out of proportion now. “I didn’t want to let you down.” It took a while for me to believe I could pursue writing. Other people believing in me felt like too big an ask.
You asked it of Celine.
Stop thinking about her.
“English, eh?” Dad says after a moment. His voice is uncertain, but he seems determined, and Mum smiles at us both encouragingly. “What’s that for, then?”
I swallow down my embarrassment and admit, “I want to, er…write books?”
Mason bursts out laughing. I barely mind.
CELINE
After they send Brad off in the ambulance, I text him a thousand variations of I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT ARE YOU OKAY CAN WE TALK. Then I find his phone vibrating in the tall grass at the base of the hill where he fell and come to my senses.