It’s a mistake to look up at my dad’s eyes.
Because they’re full of tears suddenly.
Dripping down his cheeks.
You’d think I was a child again wearing some cheaply-made dragon costume mumbling through the two lines I had.
“So here I am,” I say, lowering my wrist. “My way of honoring my granddad … and myself … to see more of the world before I choose what to do with my life. Whether I finish out school or not. Return here to take over the business when it’s time. Or pursue a career in doodles. Or become a wedding DJ in Iceland. Or live in a truck making sourdough. Or … something else entirely. I need to experienceeverythingthis life of mine has to offer.”
My parents haven’t let go of each other’s hands.
They’re both fighting back tears.
Too soon to say if they’re tears of joy or anguish just yet.
I give Austin’s hand a squeeze, then let out the rest: “So that’s why I plan to leave with Austin and go on tour with him.”
My mom’s eyes flash open.
Dad’s, too.
Maybe I gave them a tad too much credit and no one, in fact, guessed the twist ending of my story ahead of time.
This is when the explosion comes.
And maybe the real reason I dragged Austin into this with me.
With him here, maybe I’ll just get part of the explosion. Or a watered-down version. My dad will intensely ask me who else he can possibly hand the business down to after retirement. My mom will cry about this house being empty forever. I will be the reason everyone is left unhappy, our legacy falling to pieces, all because of my selfish desire to exist.
My mom’s hand on my leg catches me by surprise.
And silences the fears.
“Are you sure?” she gently asks me.
I stare at her, as if not hearing the question at first.
Am I sure?
I have an option to not be sure?
“Because if you are,” she goes on, “then I suppose we … need to start thinking about what that’s gonna look like. And how your dad and I …” She glances at him, then back at me. “… can best support you moving forward.”
I blink.
This isn’t an explosion. I don’t know what the hell this is. It’s almost scarier, the understanding in her voice, like they knew.
“We’re surprised,” says my dad, chiming in, still holding one of Mom’s hands. “Of course we are.”
“This isn’t a small choice,” Mom picks up. “It’s a big deal. And of course it matters. This is your future we’re talking about.”
“And ours, in a way,” agrees Dad.
“But we want to support you no matter what.”
“No matter what.”
I’m at such a loss, I nearly let go of Austin’s hand, forgetting that I’m holding it. “That’s it?” I blurt. “You’re not furious?”