Page 144 of Illegal Formation
“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 haveeverbrought us is joy.”
“And you think we’re embarrassed that you love to dance? That you travel and see the world the way you do?” Mom laughed. “Honey, IwishI could dance like you! I wish I’d leaned into the freedom I felt pulling my soul when I was a young adult and had done the same. I wished I’d taken time to get to know myself, to try things and learn from them before trying something else.”
“We both rushed into responsibility because we wanted success,” Dad continued. “And we love our lives. But we look at you and we smile because this was what we worked so hard for. We’re happy we could provide for you to take this time to discover yourself.”
“God, are we,” Mom echoed. “Nothing in the world makes me happier than knowing you could explore who you are with the security we provided. And we’d provide it your whole life, if that’s what you wanted.”
“Because in the end, you being happy is the only thingwewant,” Dad finished.
I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears streamed down my cheeks, falling into my lap. “You guys always do this thing… this pause where you look at each other and it’s like… it’s like you pity me. Or like you worry about me.”
“Well, of course, we worry about you,” Dad said on a laugh. “If you ever decide to have children, you’ll understand that. But that pause we share?” He took a moment, and I laughed to myself, imagining them doing it now. “It’s a little thing your mom and I do in moments we want to soak up and not forget, in moments where we see you making decisions we wish we could have.”
“It’s us taking a mental snapshot, and telling the other that we did this, we raised a beautiful, strong, talented woman who takes life by the horns,” Mom said.
Now I was really crying.
“I thought you guys stayed away from me because I didn’t fit into your life.”
“We’ve kept a distance because we thought that was whatyouwanted,” Mom said. “We didn’t want to suffocate you.”
“We’d move next door if you said it was okay,” Dad added. “Is it? I’ll call a realtor right now.”
I laughed. “No, don’t do that. Mama would die without New York City hot dogs.”
“It’s true,” she said on a long sigh.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I let anxiety take over me, I guess. I thought the worst.”
“We all do that sometimes,” Mom said. “You get that from my side of the family, I fear. But… we’d love to start changing things. Can we come visit again soon? And actually stay a while?”
“I’d love that,” I croaked. “I… there may be someone I want you to meet when you come.”
That made them pause again, and this time, I didn’t see it as a bad thing.
“Oh?” Mom asked in a teasing tone.
“Maybe,” I said. “It’s… things are complicated right now. I’m not sure we’ll be able to figure it out, but… I’m trying to have hope.”
“What’s so complicated about it?” Dad asked, and I heard the protectiveness in his voice. “Any man would be lucky to have your attention.”
“He’s a football player. For Seattle.”
“Oh,” Mom and Dad said in unison. “I guess that’s a bit of a problem,” Mom surmised.
“A bit,” I echoed. “But… I think we could make it through. Especially because I’m pretty sure this is my last season with the team.”
“What? Why?” Mom asked.
I bit my lip. “I… well, I think I may want to get a studio of my own and teach.”
There it was again. The Huxley Pause.
