My dad, who wasn’t a complete idiot, frowned thoughtfully. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a long sigh.
“Don’t start pointing fingers, Sam,” Mom growled. “This isn’t about your father and I. It’s about you and how you’ve become an ungrateful, spoiled little child.”
I laughed in her face. “Don’t you get it? I’m not a child! And I’m not spoiled! I have a job! I’m paying my own way! You! Aren’t! Paying! For! ANYTHING!!! Why are you even here? Why did you have to come to San Diego in the first place?”
My mom’s brows knit together and her lips pulled back in a terrible smile.
Dad’s head hung between his shoulders where he sat on the couch. He looked up at me, his face weighed down. “Sam, your mother and I think it’s time for you to come home.”
I was stunned and confused. “What?”
“You’ve made it clear that this entire San Diego University outing was a grave mistake,” Mom said confidently. “You’ve had your fun with your boyfriend. I have no doubt he’s screwed your brains right out of your ears. It’s the only possible explanation for your terrible decision making over the last several months.”
Wow, my mom was offensive beyond belief today. The thing that made it worse was that she acted like it was no big deal for her to talk to me this way, like Christos was a worthless nobody who didn’t matter. She had no idea how important he was to me. How he had changed my life for the better. She was so out of touch.
She continued, “Now it’s time for you to leave that boy behind and get serious about college.”
“I’m not leaving Christos! You’re crazy!”
“I am not crazy,” she said. “Christos is a distraction. You’ll be better off without him.”
My heart ping-ponged in my chest for the fortieth time in the last ten minutes. I wasn’t surprised that my parents were trying to ruin my life. It was how they did things.
“Your father and I have already looked into it,” she continued, “you can transfer your credits from SDU to American University and start there in the fall.”
I wanted to launch into a tirade and tell her how awful her idea was. But if I did, I knew I’d lose this argument. I had to stay strong. I took a long, deep breath. Then everything fell into place. I wasn’t a child anymore. I didn’t need to let my parents control me. I had a choice. And I was going to make it. Smirking, I said, “I’m not going to American.”
“You are,” Mom said with certainty, “and that’s final.”
I think she’d missed the calm resolve in my voice. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I said firmly. “I’m nineteen.”
“Oh, we can’t, can we?” Mom said archly. “And how do you plan on paying your tuition in the future?”
“With the loan money I’m already getting and the job I have,” I said defiantly.
“Oh, is that so? Are you forgetting that your father and I have to sign your loan application each academic year for you to renew the loan?”
Oh, shit. My mom had headed me off at the pass.
I was screwed.
CHRISTOS
Blood red salsa blurted out of the squeezable red plastic container and drenched my carne asada burrito.
“You sure you got enough hot sauce?” my grandad asked sarcastically.
I chuckled. “You know I like it hot. This is just for the first bite.”
He smiled and took a bite of one of his chicken tacos, which had only a light drizzling of hot sauce.
We sat at a table outside the Roberto’s on the Pacific Coast Highway overlooking the San Elijo lagoon, having dinner. It had been my suggestion we go out and give Samantha and her parents some space to talk. I think Samantha had made sure she was never alone with them the whole week on purpose.
“Are you worried about Samoula?” my grandad asked.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“It’s good we left them alone. Her parents probably want to talk to her. I can’t blame them. She is their daughter, after all.”
I sipped on my Jamaica tea. “Do you think they’re arguing right now?” I asked.
My grandad chewed then swallowed. He chased it with a gulp from his big cup of horchata. “Probably.”
Man, I wish I’d brought a flask so I could spike my Jamaica with some vodka or whatever went with hibiscus tea. The odd thing was, I’d cut back on my drinking more and more since Samantha’s parents had arrived. I’d wanted to spend Spring Break with Samantha so she didn’t have to endure an entire week alone with them. It had been so easy to forget about Brandon and my gallery show. As those pressures had faded from my awareness, the urge to drink had faded with them.
But now that Spring Break was coming to a close, I could feel all those old obligations ready to nip at my heels. I was itching for a drink. But the real reason I wanted to get bombed was because I was scared shitless about what I’d find when I got back to the house tonight.
I took a bite of my burrito and chewed thoughtfully. When I was finished, I said, “I’ve been waiting for her parents to go off on her all week. If you’d heard them on the phone when Samantha told them she wanted to move in with me, you’d be pissing your pants right now like I am. They were totally irate and made all kinds of threats about what they would do if she moved in with us. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get back to the house and she’s gone. Probably cuffed and gagged and thrown into a big duffel bag so her parents can haul her ass back to the east coast.”
“Relax, paidí mou,” my grandad smiled. “Samoula is a strong girl. I have a feeling she’s standing up to her parents right now. If they think they can corner her and bully her into giving up and going home, they’ve bitten off more than they can chew.”
He took a big bite of his taco and chomped on it.
“I hope you’re right,” I said before taking a huge bite of my burrito.
I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
SAMANTHA
A big boulder dropped down into my stomach, reminding me that my insides were more intact than I’d realized. I wasn’t a hollowed out husk.
Yet.
But my mom was working on it.
She was right. Without my parents’ signature, I wouldn’t get any loan money at all. I’d have to earn every cent of my tuition and books. I’d never be able to find jobs that paid for everything. But there was no way I was going back to D.C. As far as I was concerned, San Diego was now my home.
Maybe I could plug my parents’ PIN number into the form online and sign it myself? I knew what their number was.
“And don’t think about using our PIN to forge the electronic signature,” Mom chuckled. “We’ve already changed it.”
Wow, Mom had read my mind. I wasn’t surprised. I’d learned most of my dirty tricks from her.
My dad was leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked very tired. “Sam, this was our last resort. We’ve tried reasoning with you, but nothing has worked. We can’t in good conscience let you continue as an Art major. Come back home to American University and get your degree in Accounting. Your mother and I will make sure you don’t have to work and you can focus entirely on your studies. Maybe you’ll even find a boyfriend who is a business major like you. After you graduate, perhaps you can pursue art in your spare time. Everyone needs a hobby.”
A hobby? He was completely insane and it was making me insane. My mom was crazy too. I don’t think they’d listened to a word I’d said all evening. They were ignoring me and trying to grind me down until I agreed to go home.