Page 8 of Broken Chords
Damian nods. “He does. He’s my mom’s younger brother.”
“Your family is close?”
“Yeah. And they’re all here. My grandparents live in a retirement community in the Spokane Valley. My uncle owns this restaurant. My mom and her sister own a hair salon downtown.”
“Wow.” Before I can say anything else, Martina comes back with baskets of chips.
She sets them on the table along with two small bowls of salsa. “Decided what to eat yet?”
Damian gives me a questioning look. But I’ve still barely had a chance to look at the menu. I glance at it again and make a split-second decision. “I’ll have the chicken enchiladas.”
Martina scribbles my order on her notepad. “Good choice. Your usual fish tacos, Damian?”
I grin, because they really do know his usual order just like he said.
At his nod, she scribbles that down and takes our drink order before hurrying off again.
I reach for the small glass of water on the table and take a sip, glancing around the restaurant again, taking in the brightly colored murals on the walls depicting stereotypical Mexican scenes. The decor is chintzy but comfortable, and I feel like I can relax. Which is still an unusual feeling to have in public.
“What about you?” Damian asks.
Turning back to him, I set my glass down. “What do you mean?”
“Are you close with your family?”
I tilt my head to the side, considering that question. Once, not so long ago, I would’ve said yes. But things are more complicated now, especially since I decided to come to school.
“We used to be. But me coming to Marycliff has strained the relationship with my parents. Especially my mother. So, I guess not as much now.” I give him my practiced press smile to cover over the discomfort that accompanies my answer.
He braces his forearms on the table and leans closer, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. That sounds tough. Did they want you to go to school somewhere else?”
A surprised laugh escapes. “No. My mom didn’t want me to go to school at all.”
Damian blinks, taking that in. He adjusts his glasses to give himself time to think of a response. “Why not?”
“Ah, well …” I sort through the possible answers to that question, adjusting my own glasses. Some part of me wants to blurt out the bald truth, that I’m a mega-famous popstar, and my mom thinks I’m tanking my career by taking a break. Truthfully, she might be right. An industry adage is that a pop career is made up of a continuity of hits. If I take too much time off, too much time between hits, I might never recover.
But if I don’t give myself this time off, I’ll end up like Britney Spears, shaving my head and in a mental hospital after the psychotic break from coping with all the stress.
That cautionary tale happened shortly before I got discovered, and it’s stuck with me ever since. Not that I could’ve forgotten even if I’d wanted to. That was my mom’s constant refrain whenever I tried to get out from under her thumb. “Remember what happened to Britney Spears? Do you want to end up like that? I’m not going to let that happen to you. I’m only looking out for what’s best for you.”
And that was always enough to get me to buckle to whatever she wanted. But not this time. This time I’m the one saving me from a psychotic break.
Which means I can’t tell Damian the truth. At least not all of it.
I clear my throat and shift in my seat, reaching for a chip to cover my half answer. “They don’t like me being so far from home, where they can’t protect me.”
“Protect you from what?”
Why didn’t I see that question coming next? “They’re just really overprotective. Which is part of the basis for our strained relationship. I’d like to branch out on my own. I am twenty-one, after all. Most children aren’t living at home anymore by my age.”
He nods thoughtfully. Before he can ask any more questions, I turn the tables back on him. “You mentioned your uncle and cousins and your mom’s sister. Do you have any siblings? Other cousins? Are they all around here too?”
“Yeah. Three siblings—an older brother and two sisters.”
My eyes widen at that. I can’t imagine being one of four children. Although I think back to hanging out with Jonathan and his brothers when we were touring together as kids. That was a lot of fun. “Where do you fall in the lineup?”
“I’m number three. My brother’s the oldest, then one of my sisters. My other sister is the baby. She’s a senior in high school this year, so she still lives with my parents. My older sister got married last summer, which was a big deal. She’s the first of us to get married. And my brother is the IT manager at a hotel in town.”
