Fading (22 page)

"I thought you guys knew what I wanted. This was never something I have wavered on." I begin to feel my eyes sting, but I refuse to cry. Although I'm aware that they disapprove of my choice of major, I never really thought they would try to step in and change my dreams.

"You can't seriously think that you can make a respectable career out of dancing, do you?"

"Yes, Mom. I do." I snap back.

"Your mother and I just want to help you avoid having regrets."

"About the only thing I regret was believing that you two supported me," I whisper harshly. "How can you do this?"

"Honey, look at yourself. Your choice of friends is a little concerning, you don't participate in any extracurricular activities, you don't have a steady boyfriend, you never call us or visit when we live only a few miles away. I look around and see the girls you graduated high school with and they are either getting married, furthering their education, starting their careers, and I just have to wonder what went wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong!" I say a little louder than I should have. Lowering my voice, I continue, "Is it so hard for you to believe in me? To trust that I am making the best decisions for myself? And as far as my friends go, at least they understand me and love me anyway."

"Bunny, we do love you."

"No. You may think you do, but you just want me to be someone I'm not. I've never been that person. How can you not see that?"

"Candace, calm down."

"No, Mother. What did you expect? That you and Dad could just trap me here and I would willingly let you step in and take control of my future? That's not going to happen. Thank you for paying my way through college, but we're done."

"Your mother and I are not going to stop supporting you, Candace. That's not what we are saying. But this idea of yours...it's just not realistic—"

My father is cut short when my mother interrupts. "I can't deal with you anymore. I simply cannot figure you out and why you can't be more responsible. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me when people ask me what my daughter is studying in college? The looks I get when I tell them you're a dance major, knowing you have no intentions on going to grad school and finally getting a respectable degree. And your attitude is just very unbecoming lately—"

She stops talking when I stand up and throw my napkin down on the table. "What's unbecoming is
you
, Mother. You are nothing but a self-centered woman who never even put her education to use. You married rich and frolic with all the other housewives, and you justify your lifestyle with your charities, but I see right through you." I look over at my father and quickly apologize for my abrupt departure before turning my back to them and walking out of the dining room.

The tears begin to fall as I feel another part of myself breaking, a part that I have held onto so tightly with hope, hope that my parents, behind all their shit, really loved me. But I just realized that to them, I am nothing more than a tarnished accessory.

I feel lost, like I'm floating around and there is nothing to grab onto to ground me. Today did not go as I thought it would. Sure, I often argue with my mother, but today was more than another fight. Today was my realization, a culmination of everything, finally clear and right in front of my face, staring into my eyes.

After I walked out on my parents, I drove back to the house and grabbed all of my belongings. There's nothing left for me to say, and there's nothing they could say to dull the pain that's shooting through my chest. I finally see that I'm a failure in my mother's eyes and a disappointment in my father's. So, I just left.

Pulling up to my empty house, I sit in my car for a little while and listen to the rain beating against my car. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the headrest. Everyone is probably having a great time, eating dinner, and visiting with family and friends, laughing. And here I am, alone, sitting in my car in the pouring rain. Pathetic.

I step out into the rain, pull my suitcase out of the trunk, and walk slowly to the front door not caring that I am getting soaked. It's dark and quiet when I walk inside. I drag myself to my room and head to the bathroom to shower.

When I am cleaned up and in my pajamas, I unpack my bag and hang up all of my new clothes. While I am sorting through my closet I hear my phone chime. I rush over to my bed to grab my cell when I see a text from a number I don't recognize. Swiping the screen to open the message, it reads:

Got your number from Mark. Wanted to see how your Thanksgiving went. –Ryan

I hold the phone in my hand, staring at the text for a minute before typing my response.

I think we managed to fall into the universal tradition of holiday drama. : )

That bad?

Kinda. Now I'm home with no food.

It takes a while for Ryan to text me back as I continue to hold my phone and stare at the screen. I have never considered Ryan one of my friends, more of just Mark or Jase's friend that I hang out with on occasion. But being able to sit here tonight, when I feel like crap, and text him, feels nice.

Sorry, saying bye to everyone. About to head home myself.

Did you have a good time with your family?

Yeah, I did. Ate way too much. Feel like I need to hibernate.

LOL. Drive safe. Is it pouring where you are?

Not too bad. Try and have a good night.

Thanks.

Before I set my phone down, I store his number into my contacts then hop up to go rummage through the kitchen. I find an old bag of popcorn. No one went grocery shopping since we all were supposed to be gone for the week, and now there is nothing to eat. I decide to heat up the bag, get comfortable on the couch, and turn on the TV.

The chiming of my phone wakes me. Squinting my eyes against the sunlight that is filtering in through the windows, I grab my phone to see that it's almost eight in the morning and that I have a missed text from Ryan. I shift and sit up on the couch, then read his text.

I am heading out for breakfast. Wanna join?

Grocery shopping is the last thing I want to do, so with no food in the house, I type my response.

Sure. Where?

The Dish Café. 9:00?

See you then.

I hop off the couch to take a quick shower and get ready. I wasn't planning on coming back home for a couple days, so it'll be nice to hang out since I have nothing to do otherwise.

After smearing on some lip-gloss, I slide on my leopard rain boots under my boot-cut jeans. I clasp on my watch and make my way out into the rain to get into my car.

When I walk into The Dish, a small dive café, I see Ryan is already sitting at one of the tables. He looks up from his menu as I approach the table.

"Hey," he says.

Shrugging off my coat and draping it over the back of the chair, I sit down and say, "Hi, thanks for inviting me. I literally have no food at the house."

"So, what did you wind up doing last night?"

"I ate an old bag of popcorn and passed out on the couch."

Laughing at me, he says, "That's pathetic."

"My thoughts exactly," I say grinning.

"I ordered you a hot tea."

Surprised that he remembered that I like hot tea, I say, "Oh, thanks."

I pick up the menu and quickly decide on the blueberry pancakes. When I set my menu down and look up, Ryan is staring at me. I know the obvious question that must be lingering in his head is what happened yesterday that made me come home early. Before giving him an opportunity to speak, I quickly turn the focus on him and ask, "So, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"It was good. We did the typical family thing like we do every year. Mom and her sisters being loud and gossipy, cooking all day. I hung out with the guys and watched football while the kids ran around screaming and playing. My head was pounding by the end of the night."

"That actually sounds nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's not too often that everyone can get together, so when it does happen, it's fun. Crazy, but fun," he says then picks up his cup of coffee to take a sip.

When the waiter stops at our table, I tell him I want the blueberry pancakes, and Ryan orders the heuvos verdes.

"So how many nieces and nephews do you have?" I ask as I sip my tea.

"Three nieces and four nephews all under the age of five. I'm not lying when I say it's loud and crazy!" I can see by the smile on his face that he loves the kids regardless of his comments.

"So, you're an only child?" Ryan asks.

"Yeah. I have a pretty small family. My grandparents on my father's side died when I was in high school, and I have never met my mother's parents or her sister. My father is an only child as well, so it's just the three of us."

"Quiet."

"Hmmm..." I don't even want to begin to explain my family's dysfunction, so I ask, "Is your mother out with the crazy Black Friday crowd today?"

"God, you have no idea. She and my aunts go bat-shit over the sales."

The waiter comes and drops off our food. I let out a pleased sigh when he sets down my pancakes that are bigger than the plate they are served on. I pick up my fork and knife and look up at Ryan as he says, "That's a shitload of food. You gonna be able to eat all that?"

Putting all manners aside, I cut a chunk of pancake that is obscenely large, shove it into my mouth, and chew while nodding my head at him in response. His smile broadens and he laughs out loud at my gesture.

We continue to chat as we indulge in our food. Ryan is a really easy person to talk to, even without the company of either Jase or Mark. We talk mostly about his family, and I do pretty well with keeping the focus off of myself. When I can't eat another bite, I lean back in my seat and groan with the discomfort of being entirely too full. I close my eyes when I hear Ryan laughing at me and saying, "I can't believe you ate all that. You sound like you're about to die."

"You have no idea."

"You gonna be able to walk, or will I have to carry you?"

I open my eyes to look at him, when I say, "Honestly, I really need to walk this off."

"Come on, let's get outta here." Ryan stands up, throws some cash on the table, and reaches his hand out to me. We walk out into the rain, and he nods his head towards a four-door black Rubicon.

"What?" I ask as I wonder what he's thinking.

"I know you don't have shit to do today, so come on." He walks over to the large jeep that sits high on its wheels and opens the passenger door. "Come on."

I stand where I am and ask, "Where are we going?"

"I'll figure that shit out when you get in."

I can't help but laugh at his apparent love for the word 'shit.' Walking over to him, he takes my hand again to help me into the seat and closes the door behind me. When he gets in, I shake my head at him as he begins to pull out of the parking lot. He turns onto the main road and asks, "You like Thirty Seconds to Mars?"

"Love them."

He smirks at me and questions, "Really?"