Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
There’s a vague sense of awareness in his eyes before he heads back into the kitchen that perhaps I don’t want to talk about my ex.
We head into the dining room and sit down at the table, all made up with layers of place settings like royalty is coming. My father serves my favorite salmon salad, and as usual there’s more tea.
Aunt Sylvia gets an extra strong martini, as that’s her thing. All day, every day. In fact, my father leaves the shaker beside her glass and a small jar of olives because he knows how fast she’ll go through them. Saves time this way.
“So how do you feel having only one year of school left?” my mother asks as she picks at her salad.
Hmmm. A “how do you feel” question. I rarely get those.
“Great,” I tell her. “I love school but I honestly can’t wait to be done.”
“Have you started looking for jobs?” my dad asks.
Sigh. I glance at him, keeping a smile pasted on my face. “Not yet. Next year.”
“Do you still want to be a writer?” Sylvia yells over her martini.
Another sigh. “I’m studying to be one.”
My dad puts his elbows on the table, folding his hands over each other in a near offering of prayer as he looks to my aunt. “With her degree, Amanda can work as a teacher if she wishes.”
“But I’ll be a writer,” I remind him.
“Even though writers don’t make money,” my mom scoffs. “Who is going to pay for your place and your clothes and everything else? Once you’re done with school, our help is gone. You’ll be living on the streets.” Here we go. Same old, same old. “You really made a big mistake breaking up with Alan.” She throws down her napkin, genuinely upset.
“Um, I didn’t love him,” I reply testily.
“Why not?”
“Maybe she loves women,” Aunt Sylvia yells.
I give her a withering glance before turning back to my mom. “Because I didn’t love him. I don’t know. He’s a nice guy but...”
“The best guy,” my mother finishes.
“Men like him don’t come around very often,” my father says, jumping in. “He’ll make one hell of a dentist.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” I mutter, spearing a piece of salmon with my fork.
“But he could have supported you,” my mother says. “If you had just said yes, you’d be planning your wedding right now. I’d be planning it! Then you’d get married when you graduate, you’d be having children by twenty-five and learning what it’s like to be a mother, a real woman, and then if you still have your flights of fancy, you could dabble in writing on the side. Maybe write children’s books.”
My face is burning with rage. I have a million things I want to say and yet my throat is so choked with anger I can’t even say it.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian,” Aunt Sylvia prattles on.
My mother ignores her. “Amanda, you threw away the one good thing you had going for you. Alan would have made you a woman. Instead you broke up with him, humiliating him in the worst way, and you’re back to the petulant child that you are. You’ll never grow up now, you’ll be lonely and single and chasing something that doesn’t even exist.”
I’m close to tears now and I never cry.
“I love writing,” I manage to say, staring down at the salad. “It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I love.”
“I love a lot of things too,” my mother says. “And I never even dared to make them a career. You need to stop living in this fantasy land and start living in reality.”
“Your mother is right,” my father says, voice all low like he’s really getting down to business and throwing his man of the house card around. “The minute you graduate, you’re getting a steady, respectable job. I don’t care where it is, but it’s not going to be based on some half-assed dream of yours. Very few people in the world get to write for a living. You have to be pretty damn special to be one of them.”
“Oh my god!” I cry out. “You haven’t even read my stuff! You have no idea at all if it’s any good.”
“You know, it’s pretty acceptable nowadays,” Aunt Sylvia says, sloshing her martini around as it splashes over the side of the glass. “One word—Ellen Degeneres. She’s a big deal. Oops, I spilled my drink.”
“I’m sure you’re good, sweetie,” my father says, changing his tone. “But having talent and being good at something doesn’t mean you’ll get far in life. Stick to what’s dependable. You know. Alan’s getting pretty serious with a new girl…”
I frown at that. Really? Already??
“Apparently she’s going to be a genetic scientist,” he says. “But you know, if you want him back, I’m sure I could put in a word for you.”