Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
That's not enough to distract him, unfortunately. “And my grandbaby is going to have an unemployed mother.”
“I wouldn't be the first.”
“Bianca…”
“They're called stay-at-home moms, by the way.”
“You know what I'm saying. I don't appreciate you making jokes about it.”
I can't count how many times I've picked up his spirits by joking around, making sarcastic comments, teasing him a little. It looks like that's not happening today. “Dad. Please, hear me out.” I sink into one of the chairs at the table with a heavy sigh. “It's not what I wanted. I never wanted that job. I know it was what you wanted for me, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but I have to do what's best for me.”
“Honey. It's not about having the perfect job, not all the time. Do you know how many kids graduate college and end up taking the first job that comes their way for the sake of experience? That's what your first job is about. You work your way up to what you actually want to do.”
Considering he went right from high school to the police force, I have to wonder how he manages to sound so sure of himself. “I understand that. And I could have stayed—they were happy to let me stay on. I just... couldn't see the point.” It sounds pretty lame when I say it out loud. Unlike me, or rather the me I used to be. I can see why he'd be confused.
“Not when you already have a meal ticket, right?”
“Please. I will need you to stop saying or doing things like that.” His head snaps back a little like he's surprised—and he's not the only one. I didn't mean to come out sounding so stern. Then again, he's done plenty of things in the recent past alone that is enough for me to get an attitude over. Maybe he has it coming to him. Maybe he needs to hear what a jerk he's being.
“I would think you'd know by now that you raised me better than that,” I continue once the first rush of anger passes. “I'm insulted that you would even speak those words.”
“Yes, but then you've done a lot of things lately that have left me scratching my head and wondering if you're the kid I raised.”
“Trust me. I am still that same person. And I'm sorry that my life isn't turning out the way you hoped. I'm sure when the time comes, I'll have the same hopes and dreams for my child.”
“Yes. You will.” He releases a chuckle, running a hand over his head before taking a seat of his own. “You're going to learn pretty fast what it feels like to stand back and watch your kid make a mistake. You can try with all your might, but there's no changing their mind.”
“I'm sorry I've put you through that.”
“You don't seem very sorry.”
“I am. But being sorry isn't the same as changing my mind to make you happy. I'm starting to learn, finally, that I need to be able to look myself in the eye every morning when I get out of bed. That I'm the person whose opinion matters most. And right now, I can tell you that if I went back to that office and wasted my life sitting in a gray cubicle, going blind, staring at tiny columns of numbers all day, I'd lose it. It wouldn't even take that long.”
“So you'll find another job. I don't want to see you waste your education.”
“And I will find another job. But it's going to be something I actually want to do.”
All it takes is seeing his lips draw together and his eyes narrow to know what's coming next. “And what does he think about it?”
“He has a name.”
“Don't split hairs with me right now. What does he think?”
“Callum wants me to do whatever I want to do.”
“Right, I know what that means.”
“Oh? Please, enlighten me. I haven't had a good laugh all day.”
“I'm going to pretend this sarcastic attitude is a result of pregnancy and let that go.”
“You don't get to make comments like that and expect me not to fire back a similar response. What do you think it means when I say he wants me to do whatever I want?”
“He's going to keep you home. That's where he wants you. You'll be the Carmela Soprano from “The Sopranos.” Spending endless amounts of money, keeping an eye on the kids, and letting your intelligence go to waste.”
The thing is, I can't even tell him he's wrong. I'm sure that is what Callum would want if I allowed him to have his way. “That's his knee-jerk reaction,” I say, choosing my words carefully and trying to ignore the smug look on my dad's face. “My happiness and what I want is important to him. I'm not pretending to know how good I have it, because being freely open to walk away from something that makes me unhappy is extremely lucky. Let's face it, it's not like I'm fulfilling my potential by checking spreadsheets all day, either.”