Page 89 of The Surprise
As if she can’t even hear the tone of my voice, Mom beams. “Get your bags packed,” Mom says. “That’s the end of it.”
I head for my room, tired of arguing with them. I missed the perfect date I’d waited for so long. Everyone saw me as Judas, thanks to Mom and Dad, complicit in their mess, and now they’re going to take away the roof over my head if I don’t follow them like Mary’s little lamb? Fine.
Instead of packing, I start searching for jobs in Manila.
It’s not super inspiring, to be honest. There’s not much out there in a town this small. But I did hear from someone that Bob at Gorge Tours was thinking of expanding. Maybe I could get his number from his niece Hannah.
A tap at my door has my hands clenching. “I’m not going.”
Dad opens the door and pokes his head in. “White flag.” His nervous grin irritates me more.
“What do you want?”
“Listen, kid.”
Oh, good grief. Does he think I’m too stupid to know when he’s trying to manipulate me? “Dad, just go without me.”
He slides through the door and closes it behind him. “So here’s the thing, kiddo.”
If he calls me that again, I’m going to scream. As it is, I’m already gritting my teeth.
“Your grandparents are willing to help us get settled in Seattle, because we think it’ll be better for your mom. I met with a handful of the best addiction and recovery experts in the country when I went last time. They think the small town life she’s been living has been a trigger.”
For once in his life, Dad actually looks entirely serious. I imagine he’s drowning in guilt, if he thought he was helping her, and now experts are telling him he may have been the problem.
“I don’t know what else to try.” Dad’s voice is small.
As badly as I wanted to rage and yell and pull my teenager card, his stupid little confession took a lot of the wind out of my sails. “I don’t want to go, though,” I say. “I’m tired of always being the one person whom no one cares about. Why doesn’t anyone ever ask what I want?”
“Because when a family member’s in distress, you put your resources there,” Dad says. “I’ve never had hobbies, or friends, or anything at all, because I was always trying to get your mom stable.”
Twenty years of subjugating all his wants for her? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not healthy, either. The biggest problem with Dad is that he’s always searching for the golden ticket. He always thinks the game changer is right around the corner. It’s true in ranching, in life, in business, and in relationships. “Has it ever occurred to you that she might not be fixable?” I don’t want to break his brain, but he needs someone to say it. “UntilMomdecides to change, nothing we do will make a difference.”
“It’s not her fault she hasn’t been able to change. Alcoholism is a disease. Besides, she does want to heal,” he says. “That’s the word they’d like us to use. Notfix.”
Sometimes I think these experts need a big smack. “Whatever.”
“If you come this weekend, I’ll sign your college fund into your name. You can use it for any kind of education you want, anywhere you want to go.”
As much as I hate it, that promise catches my eye. That sounds a lot like freedom, and it’s the first time anyone has ever offered it to me. “All I have to do is come this weekend?” I arch my eyebrow. “I want you to transfer it to me first.”
“I knew you’d say that.” He pulls a folded paper out of his pocket. “This is the transfer form. The second we pull into the driveway at your grandparents, I’ll sign it.”
I hate how much I want it, but I’ve been looking at photography classes, and they aren’t cheap. Even if Bob’s hiring, I doubt I’ll be able to pay for my housing and living expenses, and have anything left over to save for classes like that.
“Listen kiddo, your mom needs all our support. And who knows? You might actually like it there. You haven’t seen much of your grandparents, and maybe you’ll like them.”
“The people you were just telling me are the devil?”
He winces. “I never said they were the devil. For your mom, we both need to try.”
I insist on driving my own car over, unwilling to rely on their assurances that they’ll bring me back at the end of the weekend. Since my dad drives like he’s already an octogenarian, I pull in right next to him in front of Grandma and Grandpa’s palatial home in the center of Redmond. I haven’t been here in a long time, and looking at it now as an adult, I’m positive it cost an absolute fortune.
The lot is enormous, for one. Acres and acres. It’s heavily treed, like most of Redmond, and the drive is lined with old, picturesque trees. The house itself has a three-car-wide circular drive out front, with a ridiculous fountain in the center of it. It looks like something that would fit in as a centerpiece in a town square, but it’s here instead, in front of a single home.
The red brick house has not two, not four, not even six, but eight enormous white columns that run from the ground to the roof, shoring up a massive, super wide porch in front of a bright, red brick facade. The bushes are shaped into sea animals, as if they need to draw more attention to the fact that they have a huge boat. Dolphins leap on either end of the house. Crabs stand, claws extended, on either side of the double front doors. And in possibly the strangest trimming of all, an eel-like bush runs from the dolphins to the crab.
I wonder how much they have to pay their gardener.
