I check the time. 6:10. He’s not coming. My mom hascasuallypeeked out the front windows for him more than I have. And I’ve looked no less than a dozen times already. Time to break her heart.
I wander into the kitchen studying my phone like I received a text. “Oh shoot, Connor got held up at work. He says he can’t make it.”
The salad she’s tossing gets an extra flick into the sky, and a few baby tomatoes roll across the table.
“He did not text me,” she says.
“Why would he—?” Of course, they exchanged numbers when I wasn’t listening. That sounds like the work of two meddlers. “Never mind. Should we eat? It smells so good; you outdid yourself, Mom.”
She waves away my compliment. She doesn’t care how good her food is if a stranger isn’t here to praise her. But she calls my dad in and we say grace anyway.
“Are you still coaching?” my mom asks, while scooping an enchilada onto her plate.
“Yep.” It certainly didn’t take long to get to the career questions tonight.
She takes a bite and chews slowly, deliberating her next words. “You should let someone else take over so you can focus on your career.” Her words have all the makings of a generous notion, but what they lack is the knowledge of her daughter.
Heck, for the last four years, I lacked that same knowledge.
I put my fork down and rest my hands on my lap. “I don’t want to be a lawyer.”
“What?” Her fork clatters to the table. “But who will fight for our rights? Who will fight for our country?”
“I believe that job still belongs to the soldiers.”
She shakes her head, her disapproval evident in the years of wrinkles around her eyes. The wrinkles that were put there while she worked laborious jobs for twenty years to ensure I had a good future. The future she wanted for me.
“I don’t want to be a lawyer,” I try again, softer this time. “I want to be a volleyball coach. I love working with the kids. They are so incredi—”
“But you went to law school!” Mom shoves her plate away and takes a long drink.
I look to my dad for support, but he is studying his plate like it might disappear if he doesn’t keep an eye on it.
“And you helped Lyndi,” Mom says.
I nod. If the only reason I went to law school was so I could protect Lyndi like that, I’d do it all over again. I’m so glad I was able to get a good lawyer for Lyndi and help put her ex away for a long time, but right now, I feel like I could do more good in a different kind of court altogether.
“I did.” I sigh. “But Mom, I hated being a lawyer.”
Her expression softens, and she’s quiet for nearly a whole minute. A record time for her. “What?”
“I threw up before every mock trial. I hate public speaking. And I had a panic attack before Lyndi’s case went to trial.” The words fall out of me in a rush. And man, do they feel good.
Her mouth opens then closes again.
“Maddie.” Dad finally speaks up. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I slump against my chair. “I think I didn’t realize it myself until recently. I was too stubborn to give up during school. You guys were so proud of me, and I wanted to show you I could do anything.” My eyes sting, and I rub my nose. I’ve never spoken to my parents so openly. But it’s been necessary for a long time now.
“Filha…” Mom places her hand on the table. “I pushed you because I knew you could do it, but I didn’t know I pushed you up the wrong street.”
“You mean the wrong direction?”
She waves my comment away. “I want you to be happy.”
“Coaching makes me happy.”
“Then we will support you.” She says with a quick bob of her head. I can tell she wants to say more, but she doesn’t.
