Page 75 of The Masks We Burn
Too long have I been the one to stunt my own wings. Not anymore. “I promise.”
After I hang up, grab my cupcakes, and exit my car, I take a deep, steady breath. It’s a dinner to celebrate my graduation tomorrow, and unlike the impending doom I once felt, there’s a light of hope shining on the countdown.
It’s not a sure thing at all I’ll get the loan, but for the first time in my life, I’m going to ask my parents for a little help. If they say no, I’ve promised myself I won’t shut down and give up on something that’s consumed my thoughts since Will mentioned it.
I’ll take the girls up on their offer to stay with one of them temporarily and get a job as a waitress or something and save up. Hell, I can get two jobs if I need to. The fear of living like I did during the first half of my life is slowly dwindling.
There’s no need for me to be scared of a storm that isn’t coming, and it’s time I embrace that.
“Look who’s on time,moya lyubov’.” I hear my mother call before she even has the door open.
I force my eyes not to roll and instead secure a wide grin on my face. “Hello to you too, Mom.”
“Oh, stop. Let’s not bring down the mood tonight, Amora. It’s a celebration.” My mother bites as she backs away, allowing me to walk inside before her housekeeper closes the door.
He isn’t familiar to me but when I wave a quick hello, he sticks his nose in the air and disappears in the kitchen.
Weird.And rude, but I merely shrug and walk through the open foyer, my heels clicking against the medallion tile. When I emerge into the dining room, my father rises, his arms outstretched for his usual hug, but he lowers them as his eyes fall on the box in my hand. “What are those, milaya devushka?” Sweet girl.
“I made some cupcakes,” I say, holding them out toward him.
He takes the box, a small smile curving his lips. “William told me you like to bake.”
At first, the name stings the space behind my heart, but after I rub at the pain, confusion moves in. “When did you talk to William?”
My dad opens the box, takes one out and… he’sinspectingit. Why is he doing that?
My mouth pops open to ask but he takes a swipe of the fresh strawberry buttercream and licks it off his finger. His face is as happy as a kid’s. “Hmm, that is good.”
Still a little baffled, I shift on my feet clearing my throat. He’s never tried anything I’ve made and for some reason, hearing him compliment it makes me giddy. “Thanks, Papa.”
“Yes, where is William?” my mother asks, appearing in the dining room and holding a glass of wine in one hand.
I shrug. “Not sure.”
Her laugh is too loud to be real and grates against my nerves like Styrofoam being pulled out of a box. “Why don’t you know where your future husband is?”
Instead of answering her, I hold an empty left hand, my lips pursed.
Her eyes go wide for a moment before a devious smirk curls one side of her lips. “Good. He didn’t have the proper ideals.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, popping both my hands on my hips.
“He wanted you to work, Amora. What type of a man doesn’t want to be the sole—”
“Let me stop you right there.” I hold up a hand, not giving two fucks I’m interrupting her. “He wanted me to follow my dreams, and none of them have me sitting my ass at home doing nothing.”
“Amora Joy, Don—”
“Opp. Respectfully, I wasn’t done talking. Now,heis the reason I have hope for my future. Hope that I won’t be someone’s trophy wife, and get to explore my passions. Find my purpose.”
I turn to my father, an apologetic smile on my face. Really, I know my mother won’t hear anything I’m saying and he’s the only one who will see reason. This isn’t how I wanted everything to happen, but I guess doing it now is easier than after the salad’s been served. “I love you, Papa, but I do not want to be like her. I want to find my own path in life, and I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing, even if I don’t. Let me fail without telling me ‘I told you so’. Yes, I’m an adult, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still need you. I need your advice and wisdom, I need your support and love. I need—”
My voice cracks, the burn of tears overwhelming my eyes. I try to rub them away, but they fall anyway. I don’t stop, though, I need him to understand. “I want to open a café. I am going to the bank after graduation to try and apply for a loan—”
“You will do no such thing!” my mother shrieks, grabbing me by the shoulder and forcing me to turn around. “Why must you be so difficult? So ungrateful? We have given you—”
“I have given her everything she needs to see that if she wants to start her own business, she has the perfect person to ask her questions to.” My father interjects, and when I turn to face him, I see a man I’ve never met.
