Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Maybe that was why my stomach bottomed out a bit when I dug my phone out of my duffle bag and saw my dad’s face on the screen.
It was a selfie we’d taken when I went to visit him and Mom in London one year. Dad’s rich brown complexion was warm against my lighter one, our smiles one and the same. He’d taken me to Oxford that day to tell me all about his glory days, to show me around the school he’d hoped I’d choose for myself.
Instead, I’d gone to a private university in Arizona, earning one degree in dance and the other in communications.
Every time he called me, that photo reminded me of just one of many ways I’d let my father down.
“Hey, Dad,” I answered, breath puffing out of me after running choreo. I hung my hand on a hip, staring at myself in the mirror.
“Hi, honey. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Mom is here, too.”
“Hi, sweetie!” she chimed in somewhere in the background.
“Hey, Mom. How are you guys?”
“We’re just fine. Getting ready to go to dinner with the Archers and then into the city for a show,” Dad said. I heard the groan in his voice. “Your mother is thrilled.”
“Your father is wishing he’d fallen ill so he could get out of it,” Mom added.
I chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
An odd silence fell between us, just like it always did. But for the first time, I found myself wondering why it was there.
In the past, I’d always ascertained that it was from their disappointment in me, from their lack of connection with the life I led.
But something about what had happened with Braden had me pausing to question that.
My very own Huxley Pause.
Was it really that my parents were disappointed in me, that they saw me as a failure…
Or was it me who felt that way?
“We wanted to check in on you,” Mom said after a moment. “We saw that you danced on Sunday. That must have felt so great! How is the wrist?”
“Still a bit stiff,” I admitted, rolling it with a wince. “But getting better every day. I’m nowhere near tumbling again, but maybe in another month or so I could try with someone spotting me.”
“Just take it easy. Don’t rush too quickly,” Dad said. “We also saw your podcast interview.”
“Oh. That.”
“We loved it,” Mom added.
I couldn’t help my laugh then. “Wait… you did?”
“It made us so proud, you standing up for equality like that. So unflinchingly.” Dad chuckled. “I think you get that bravery from me.”
“And the intelligence to deliver punches from me,” Mom added.
I was still stuck on the word proud, the one syllable ping ponging in my chest and cracking ribs along the way.
There was another long pause, and then Mom spoke softly. “Emily, we’re sorry.”
“For?” I asked.
“For leaving you when we did. We should have stayed. We came all that way to see you, and then you got hurt, and I know you told us to go, but we should have put our foot down. We should have stayed and helped you. We just…”
Mom’s voice trailed, and I heard Dad comforting her like he’d muffled the phone before he came on to continue for her.
“Your mother and I have felt a bit like… I don’t know. We feel like maybe you don’t want us in your life anymore.”
My stomach bottomed out.
“Of course, I want...” But my voice trailed off, my heart squeezing.
They were being real. They were bringing all the unsaid things to the surface.
It was time for me to be real, too.
“I want you in my life,” I said, and my voice was already breaking. “I just didn’t think you wanted to be in mine, not when I’ve let you down so much.”
“Let us down?” Mom tittered. “Sweetheart, in what way have you ever let us down?”
“Should I count the ways?” I asked, sliding down the mirror until my butt hit the floor. “I’m thirty years old and still living off the money you give me more than the money I make myself. I haven’t held a job longer than a year since I graduated college — with degrees I know you both think are useless. The only thing that makes me happy is dance, and I actually think I may want to make a full career of it, but that means I’ll probably never be successful like you two are. I may never have a country club membership or fly first class, and honestly, I don’t even think I want those things. I just… I don’t fit in the Huxley picture. I’m not a lawyer or a doctor or a financial advisor or whatever else your friends’ kids are, and I know it brings you shame.”
“I’m going to stop you right there, young lady,” Dad said, his voice firm. “You do not bring us shame. The only thing you have ever brought us is joy.”