I Want It That Way

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

March blended into April, and April to May. Study, work, skim chapters, memorize material, go to the practicum, joke around with the roomies: that was my life. And time marched on. One low night, I crept into Max’s bed, and he held me. We didn’t talk, and the next morning, he said nothing about it. I didn’t feel much better about Ty and me, but he still didn’t answer when I talked to him in my head. At this point, I had no idea if that was good or bad.

I had just finished the last of my finals when my mom called. I’d tried to keep up with them better, sending regular emails—not that she nagged me about it. Today when I answered the phone, her tone was off, echoing with forced brightness.

“Hey, how did exams go?”

“Pretty well, I think. I worked hard this semester.” There had been no reason not to. No weekends away, no sex, no dates. If not for my roomies, people might’ve thought I’d joined a cult structured around abstinence and lack of fun.

“If you have time, your dad and I need to talk to you. Can you call us on Skype?”

“Sure,” I said as a cold hand twined around my intestines. In the years I’d been away at school, my parents had never shown any interest in video chat. “Just let me get my laptop.”

“Okay, honey. We’ll be here.”

Something’s really, really wrong.

On the way to my bedroom, I almost threw up. Somehow I choked it down and called them, as requested. It took a few tries for them to answer, and I could imagine Mom and Dad arguing about how to do it, just like the stupid pine tree. The mental image put a smile on my face, so I didn’t look scared or sick when they finally picked up.

“There you are,” my dad said.

He’d aged visibly since Thanksgiving, even more lines, more gray in his hair. That was enough to worry me, but the look in his eyes? I’d never seen anything like it—a reeling combination of fear and despair, reinforced in the slump of his shoulders. I couldn’t stand it. The only time I ever saw my dad cry was when he buried my grandmother, but that was a grief I could understand. As a kid, you think your father is invincible. You tell other kids that he can beat up their dad, and he will, if they don’t leave you alone.

This man was frightened. He resembled my father, but there was none of his quiet strength, none of the certainty, only hesitation and confusion. That was not my dad. Never in my life had he ever shown any sign that he didn’t know everything. He’s dying, I thought, and then I wanted to jam a metal spike into the brain that could consider such a thing.

I take it back. I take it back, okay?

The silence went on too long, and my mom took Dad’s hand, as if to give him courage.

“Here I am,” I answered eventually. “What did you want to talk about?”

Cancer, it’s cancer.

Stark terror flooded me, sparking behind my eyes. Apart from me, the apartment was empty, so there would be nobody to catch me after I hung up with them, after I pretended to be strong and sure, all the things they’d need from me. I schooled my face, trying—for once—not to show everything.

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” my mom started.

My whole body locked.

Dad touched her lightly on the cheek, such a tender gesture for so many years together. “No, I should tell her.”

She breathed in. Out. “Okay.”

“Last year, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. I’ve tried to manage it so I could keep working, but I’m not steady enough anymore. At the end of the month, I’ll be unemployed.”

For a few seconds, I was beyond breathing as thoughts whirled in my head. What the hell is Parkinson’s? I’d heard of it, something to do with Michael J. Fox, but I couldn’t remember anything. Is it terminal?

“Give me a sec, okay?”

Quickly I brought up the browser and Googled. Disorder of the brain that leads to shaking (tremors) and difficulty with walking, movement and coordination. Can be genetic or caused by environmental factors like exposure to pesticides. Then I read a quick article about how Michael J. Fox had been battling it for over twenty years. Relief crackled through me when I realized it was a degenerative condition, but not an automatically fatal one. It doesn’t mean I’m losing him in a month or even a year. It’s treatable. I flipped back to the chat window and found my dad hugging my mom.

“Sorry, I just wanted to know more. I figured it would be faster to read it.”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Mom said.

A deep breath trickled out. “I thought it was worse. Do you want me to come home? I can quit my job to help out, whatever you need, Dad.”

At least the school year’s over. At first, I wasn’t thinking about leaving Mount Albion, but I could. My credits would transfer and—

“Only if that’s what you want,” he said. “Don’t do it for me.”

“Or us,” Mom added. “We’ll be okay. Rob’s here, and your father and I, we can weather anything, as long as we’re together.”

I want that, I thought. And then, I had that.

Mom smiled as he squeezed her around the shoulders. “The reason we’re telling you this, honey, is because it impacts your future. Your dad tried so hard to hang on until after your senior year, but it’s not going to happen. On my salary, we can’t afford our bills and your tuition, too. I’m sorry, but this last year, you’re on your own.”

My dad picked up, continuing as couples who had been together a long time often did. “You needed to know what’s going on, so you can make plans. Tuition will be cheaper in state, but you won’t have a scholarship. You could transfer like Lauren’s doing, and you’ll save money by living at home. But don’t come back expecting to take care of me. I’m not that sick yet.”

Mom nodded. “Your dad will look for work, but the economy’s rough right now.”

“At my age and with my health problems, it’s unlikely I’ll find anything.” The admission came out coated in shame, as if he hadn’t already done so much. “In time, I might get disability, but it won’t be enough to help you. I’m sorry, bean.”

I said in exasperation, “Would you stop apologizing? Dad, I only care about you. I couldn’t give two shits about tuition right now.”

My mom frowned. “You should. All you’ve talked about since you were sixteen is getting your degree.”

Because I want to make you proud. I wanted to teach, too, but for as long as I could remember, my parents praised me for being smart. They talked about how I’d get out of Sharon and make something of myself. No retail job for me, no minimum wage. I’d never wash dishes or mop floors. I was too clever for that, bound for better things. So I had been trying to live up to their expectations: never miss work, study hard and don’t fuck up my chances.

Maybe it’s time I said it out loud. But I couldn’t look at them while I did, so I stared at my hands. “That’s because I don’t want to disappoint you. I thought you’d be upset if I took longer than four years or I didn’t get summa cum laude or—”

“Only if you’re unhappy.” My mom sounded shocked, shaken even.

Timidly I glanced at the screen. My dad whispered something to my mom and she nodded. “If it’s okay with you, he’s going to lie down. This seems like a talk we need to have alone first. I’ll fill him in later.”

I nodded. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” At home, he would’ve mussed my hair or poked me in the side.

It was harder to share certain things in front of him. Since he was the strong, silent type, I always felt like he thought I should be, too. Rob took after him in that respect; my brother never admitted to a feeling that I could recall. So my mom was kind of the bridge between all of us, trying to make us understand each other—with varying degrees of success.

“Okay, let’s back up. You mean you’re doing all of this for us?”

“Well, no. But...” I struggled to find the words. “I do feel some pressure to perform. My grades have to stay above a certain level for my scholarship, and if I don’t do well here, then it’s like you wasted all of that money on me, when you should’ve kept it for yourselves. Now that Dad’s sick, you might need it more than ever. So I never miss work because I don’t want you to think you made a mistake, believing in me, trusting me.”

“Nadia, honey, it sounds like you spend an awful lot of time fretting about us, what we think and how we’ll feel. But it’s your life.”

“And there’s a right way to live it, huh, Mom?” I didn’t realize her warning from Thanksgiving was still eating at me, but I could quote it by heart. “‘This boy has already gotten some girl pregnant and messed up his future. You can do better. Find someone who can start a family with you when the time is right.’”

“I sound incredibly judgmental.” She rubbed a hand over her face, but her weariness wasn’t enough to shut me up.

“Not just you. Everyone. According to the world, there’s a right way to do things. I should get my degree in four years—if it takes more, I’m a failure. Next, find an awesome job, and then, only then, look for someone to share my life. We should be married 2.5 years before we reproduce. Then if I’m infertile or he is, people will look down on us if we adopt, if we consider in vitro. One of us will be a failure again, faulty genetic stock, and if I don’t want kids at all, there’s something wrong, because normal women love babies, don’t they, all of them?”

My heart broke for Diana, who had loved Ty and dreamed of a life with him, and then she ran from domestic bliss, to a future without diapers, where she could work with lab equipment, instead. And too many people would say there was something wrong with her. Because what kind of monster could desert her own child? At this moment, I hated everyone in the world, myself included.

Now that I’d started venting, I couldn’t shut up. My mom listened, wide-eyed, as I babbled on, “God forbid if I fall in love with a girl. My roommate Angus, he’s completely wrong, according to some assholes. In some states, it’s not even legal for him to get married. Doesn’t matter that he’s the sweetest guy. Society says he’s not even allowed to have a family.”

“Nadia, are you telling me you’re gay?” Mom managed to ask.

“What? No. I’m...” Falling apart.

The months without Ty finally caught up to me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and the misery came out in endless word vomit. My mom would never want to Skype with me again, because I told her everything—about Ty and Sam—and this love that wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did or how I did it. By the time I finished unloading, my face was smeared with tears and Courtney had tiptoed in and out of our room, clearly not wanting to intrude.

“You love him,” my mom said quietly.

“God, yes. But I’m twenty-two. I’m too young to be tied down, right? And with Sam, it just can’t be anything less.”

“I was twenty-one when I had Rob. Twenty-five when you came along. And your dad was twenty-six when we got married. I was nineteen. My mother told me he was too old—that it would never work out. She didn’t like his family, either, or the fact that one of his brothers went to prison. But...he was the right person for me. So I didn’t listen. I married him, anyway.”

That was news to me. My grandmother, who made winter soup and black bread, she’d disapproved of my dad?

“She never gave any sign that she didn’t support you two.”

“Not after I proved to her that it could work...and that he was good to me. Telling her wouldn’t have been enough. She threatened to disown me, but once she saw, she understood.”

From the strength of their relationship, my mother made the right call back then. With my parents together and happy, I’d always been an oddity at school. So many relationships ended in divorce, maybe because some people were terminally stupid at nineteen and shouldn’t be in charge of a kitten’s well-being, let alone a baby. But others, like my mom, could start young and build a beautiful life with someone.

With my dad.

That was when I suspected what she was getting at. I froze, staring at the screen. “What are you saying?”

“I want you to be happy, that’s all. I don’t care about college, except that it’s your dream to teach. Obviously, I want better for you than I had, but I can tell you’ve thought about Ty a lot and that you understand how it will be with him. If this boy will put the smile back on your face, you have my blessing.”

“He’s not a boy. He hasn’t been since Sam came along.”

My mom smiled. “Fair enough. But I’m forty-seven years old, and anyone under thirty seems like a baby to me. What are you going to do?”

“About college, tuition or Ty?” The tension eased out of me. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much worry I was hauling around.

“All of the above.”

Pausing, I pondered my options then shook my head. “I’m not sure. I need to think. Right now I’m too emotional to work it out and be sure I’m making the right choice.”

“Keep me posted,” she said, smile widening. “You know, I like this Skype business. It’s harder for you to lie to me.”

“Impossible. Take care of Dad, okay?”

Her eyes were beautiful and serene. “I’ve been doing that for twenty-eight years. I’m not likely to stop, just because he needs me a little more.”

“Hug Rob and Dad for me.”

“Of course. Bye, honey.”

Stunned by the honesty I’d unleashed between us, I staggered to the bathroom to blow my nose. My eyes were so red, it looked like I was having an allergic reaction to my face. A few minutes later, Courtney brought some ice in, wrapped in a towel. I took it gratefully and balanced it on my nose, sighing as the coolness soothed the sting.

“Heavy family drama?” she asked.

“You have no idea.”

“I got a few pieces, here and there. Dad’s sick, you’re challenging the current world order and ready to march for gay rights?”

“Well, yes and yes, but there’s more.” Quietly, I filled her in.

“Wow,” she said. “I understand the conflict. It’s not like you can date Ty in the traditional sense. You have to accept both of them.”

“I am. I do.” Until that moment, I didn’t realize how complete the internal shift was, but as I spoke the words, I recognized their truth. “I’ve tried the bar scene. I tried meeting other guys, but when someone else touches me, it just makes me sad. I don’t want to drink until I barf. I don’t want the type of fun I’m supposed to be having. I just... I want Ty, that’s all.”

“It sounds like he was pretty adamant when you split, though.”

“He was.” The weight shifted from my chest for the first time in months. “But I think it’s because he’s trying to put me first. He talked about me ruining my life over him. But...Lauren? To the rest of the world, she’s a failure. She flunked out of college. Lost her scholarship. Now she’s back in Nebraska, living with her mom. How’s that not crashing and burning?”

Courtney nodded, like she wasn’t sure where I was going with that.

I went on, “But...she’s happy. For her, getting out of Michigan was a huge relief. And that’s how I feel right now. I don’t have to live on other people’s timetable anymore. I can do what I want, whatever makes me happy. That’s...freedom.”

She cocked a worried brow. “You’re not planning to ditch classes and stash pot in my underwear drawer, are you? Because that’s what drove me out of my last housing situation.”

I laughed. “Not even remotely. I still plan to graduate. I don’t know yet if I’ll take out loans to finish or drop to part-time. I have the summer to decide, though my instinct is to slow down. The idea of going into debt freaks me out.”

Courtney patted me on the back with a commiserating look. “I’m right there with you, but unfortunately, I’m already in hock to the man. Well. To my parents, which is worse than the government. What are you going to do about Ty?”

“What I’ve done almost since the first time I saw the guy,” I said softly.

“And that is?”

I offered a mysterious smile. In my head, I was Boadicea and no man could stand against me. “Love him so much, it hurts.”