Authors: A. Meredith Walters
My mom leaned in and dropped her voice to a near whisper. “We've been getting your checks, sweetheart. And even though we were disappointed with your irresponsibility with the credit card, I think it's wonderful that you're taking care of that.” Back handed compliment number one. Check.
I gave my mom a fake smile. “Just doing what I should do. I'm sorry I messed up,” I admitted honestly.
My mom squeezed my hand. “I know you are, honey.” She reached out and brushed my bangs back from my face. “I wish you'd let your bangs grow out. They cover up your beautiful face.” Back handed compliment number two. Check, check.
I was saved from getting defensive by Riley and my dad coming into the kitchen. I got my dad a glass of iced tea and I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to withstand the cutting commentary on my college life. Riley, bless her, tried to intervene where she could. But there was only so much she was able to accomplish when faced with the full force of my father's attack.
“Wow, look at the time. Don't you have to get over to campus for your tour?” Riley interjected during one of the many awkward silences that filled the kitchen.
“Oh, wonderful! I do so love the campus tours. So fascinating!” My mom enthused, grabbing her purse off the counter and following my dad out the door.
I turned to Riley before leaving. “Thanks for the help in there,” I whispered, so my parents wouldn't hear me.
Riley's eyes widened a bit. “I don't remember your dad being so...um...”
“Dickish?” I added before Riley could finish.
Riley choked on a laugh. “Well, I was going to say intense. But sure, whatever works.” I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “Good luck at lunch,” Riley said quietly and I had to suppress a groan. Lunch. I had almost forgotten. Given the mood my dad was in, that was going to be a damn blood bath.
I followed my parents out to their car, a brand new Jeep Cherokee. “Nice car, Dad,” I commented, hopping in the back. My dad adjusted his mirrors and turned the air conditioner on.
“Yes, maybe you'll be able to afford something like this someday. That is if you can get through college without some sort of catastrophe.” Ouch. That hurt.
I bit on my bottom lip to stop myself from yelling at him. Was it any wonder my self-esteem sucked? I had been dealing with this sort of shit my entire life. And my mom just sat there, smiling like he had just commented on the fucking weather.
After the dreaded lunch, I was expected to bring my parents around to the Chi Delta house. Not that I wanted to do that...
at all.
Not only because things were so tense with the other sisters. But because my parents made no effort to hide how much they despised the whole concept of Greek life.
“Um, Mom, Dad. There's this cook out thing this evening for parents and I thought we could go,” I ventured vaguely.
My mom perked up. “Oh, that sounds lovely. Where is it?” I took a deep breath. Here we go.
“It's at the Chi Delta house,” I let out in a rush. I could see my dad frowning in the review mirror and my mom's mouth formed a little 'o' as she took in what I had just said.
“Well, that sounds...nice,” my mom said hesitantly, looking at my father's reaction.
“A bunch of the sisters will be grilling out. You know hamburgers and hot dogs. That sort of thing. And there will be music. And it's just a way for the parents to see the house and to meet some of the girls,” I hurried on.
My father cleared his throat. “I think we should go,” he said finally.
My mom looked over at him in surprise. I had to say, I was completely shocked as well. “You do?” I asked in a small voice.
My dad nodded his head as we pulled into one of the parking lots on campus. “Yes, I'd like to see what my daughter wastes her money on every month. Should be an eye opening experience,” he bit out dryly.
Okay. I was done with this already. “Dad. Please just go in there with an open mind. I like being a sister. It's important to me. So just don't ruin this for me.” I begged. My voice had gotten high and I hated how much I sounded like a little girl.
But I was relieved to see a momentary softening in my dad's features. He let out a deep breath and met my eyes in the rear view mirror. “Fine, Maysie. I'll have an open mind.” He conceded and my heart did a little tap dance. That was the closest to compromise I had experienced from my father in a long ass time.
And then I remembered I had yet to broach the topic of Jordan with either of them. They had no idea who he was and that he'd be joining us for lunch. Maybe while my dad was being semi agreeable, I should let them know I had a) a boyfriend and b) he was crashing our lunch date.
“So, guys. I wanted to let you know that we would be having company for lunch,” I said lightly as we started heading toward the Administrative building to meet our tour group.
“Oh, is Riley joining us? I really like that girl. Good head on her shoulders,” my dad said gruffly.
I looked at my mom, hoping to get some help from that corner. “Well, no. Riley's meeting up with her mom and dad downtown. Actually, a friend of mine, Jordan Levitt, is coming with us,” I said, then watched my mom and dad process that tidbit of information.
“Jordan Levitt? I've never heard you mention him.” My mom remarked. Well, no duh. I didn't need my relationship picked over the way they picked over everything. Pardon me for wanting to keep something of mine out of their controlling grasp..
“Yeah. We worked together this summer, at Barton's.” I started but my dad interrupted.
“That bar?” he asked sharply. Oh crap. I forgot the bullshit I went through when they found out I was waitressing at a bar. My dad had given me so much grief about that. It didn't matter that I was trying to do the responsible thing. Nope. All my dad had heard was that I working at a bar. And of course, that had just been another example of how I was screwing up my life.
“Uh, yeah. But anyway. He's a senior and we've been seeing each other for a little while.” My dad's jaw tightened. My mom's eyes got wide again. She did that a lot.
“Is he your boyfriend, Maysie?” she asked. I coughed and nodded.
“Oh,” my mom said quietly. I peeked up at my dad. His shoulders were tense but he wasn't yelling at me. So that was a good sign.
“Is that okay? He's really nice and really wants to meet you.” I said quickly. My mom nodded. My dad didn't say anything for a moment and when he decided to speak it was less than heartwarming.
“It would have been nice to have a little warning that we were going to be meeting the young man you're dating,” my dad said coldly.
“I'm sorry, Dad,” was all I could say. My dad gave a curt nod and nothing more was said about the matter. We joined our group and headed out for the tour. The same tour I took as a prospective student. The same tour I took my first week as a freshman. The same damn tour I took every flipping year with my parents. It's not like the campus had changed that much.
I was suddenly very resentful of having to suffer through the mind numbing boredom of that god damn college tour. I'm sure it had everything to do with my mixed up feelings about the two people walking in front of me.
Why couldn't I ever be enough? Do enough? Growing up, my dad never seemed particularly interested in me. You'd think as a teacher, he'd understand how important parental involvement was. But he just never took the time to get to know me.
One of my earliest memories was at the age of five, asking my father to play a game of Candy Land. Do you know what he did? He told me he was disappointed that I wasn't playing with the chess set he had gotten me for my birthday. Who gives their five year old daughter chess for their freaking birthday? I wanted pink, sparkly unicorns and Barbie dolls. Not chess! But that's the sort of thing I came to expect from my dad. He never got me something because
I
liked it. It had to be educational and meant to make me a smarter, better and an all-around perfect person. Too bad his money was spent in vain.
Because as I got older it became pretty damn clear that the daughter he wanted just wasn't me. I tried so hard in school to get good grades and participate in the activities he wanted me too. I suffered through four excruciating years on the debate team in high school, all because my dad had been the state debate champion when he was a teenager.
I had hated it. Every single, obnoxious moment of it. I twisted myself inside out trying to please that man and it was never,
ever
enough. What really hurt was when I had gotten to high school and realized that the relationship I longed for with my father, he was having with every single one of his students.
He was the most popular teacher at the high school. Everyone wanted to have Mr. Ardin for Honors English Lit. The kids loved him. He was funny, encouraging, motivating. Just not with me. His child.
I remember going to my dad's classroom one day at lunch time. I had stopped just before going inside. I heard him talking to Sarah Keller, a girl in my grade. She was on the debate team with me and my biggest competition for becoming Valedictorian. She and my dad were talking about colleges that she had applied to and she mentioned USC, my dad's alma mater.
I had watched while my dad clapped his hand on her shoulder and gave her a supportive smile. Then he had told her how proud he was of her and how he knew she'd succeed. That crushed me. My heart literally fell to pieces right then and there. This girl was experiencing my dad's pride, something I had never had. He looked at her with all the warmth he never once showed me. And part of me died that day.
I wanted to give up on my need for my dad's approval. But it was so deeply ingrained that I couldn't shake it. And my mom, well, she did very little to curb my dad's militant need for perfectionism. She had her own critiques where I was concerned. Where my dad was obsessed with my academics, my mom was fixated on my popularity.
You would think, given that they were older when they had me, they wouldn't be as focused on that stuff. They should have just been thankful for the miracle that was me, considering they never thought they'd be able to have kids. But that wasn't my lot in life. Instead, I was born to parents who wished and hoped I'd be someone else. Anyone, but who I was.
Instead of going all rebel and becoming a crack addicted prostitute, I became the hyper vigilant, overachiever. So when I came to Rinard College, the ties that had bound me so tightly had loosened their grip and I had finally been able to breathe.
For the first time in my life I could become somebody
I
could be proud of. So I joined a sorority and now I was dating a bad ass drummer with an eyebrow and tongue ring and a sexy as hell tattoo covering most of his back. My parents were going to hate him. And that juvenile part of me that so desperately wanted her parent's pride and approval, cringed at the thought. Then the other more rebellious side of that same girl, looked forward to watching their faces when they saw Jordan for the first time.
And as predicted my mom's mouth fell open and my dad's eyes narrowed. We were sat in a booth at Bakersville Deli, having just ordered our drinks when I saw Jordan pull up on his Ducati. Oh shit, he'd ridden his bike. My dad watched out the window as Jordan dismounted and took his helmet off. My father's lip curled in disgust. “How can anyone willingly ride around on those death traps?” he asked in disgust.
I, on the other hand had to discreetly wipe the drool that started to collect at the corner of my mouth. Jordan was gorgeous. And he was mine. And I didn't give a fig what my dad had to say about that. I followed him with my eyes as he tucked his helmet under his arm and raised a hand to rub it across his dark, buzzed head. He did this when he was nervous or anxious and I found the gesture endearing.
He had dressed in a dark pair of jeans that hung deliciously on his narrow hips. I could see a button down shirt peeking out from underneath his leather jacket. He came into the deli, looked around and when he saw us, walked over.