Page 93 of String Theory


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Needless to say, dinner was strained. Ari kept his answers short, his father directed the conversation to mundane topics like the weather and the London Knights, and Afra interrupted whenever their mother made a remark that might be even an oblique reference to the dinner with Jax.

Ari suspected she’d told Ben to stay home just in case. He could feel the argument brewing under the surface of the conversation, and it was only a matter of time before it erupted. Ari’s parents would hate for Ben to witness it, and everyone else would hate to feel like Ben was analyzing them. As for Ben, Ari suspected that there were situations therapists stayed away from, and a family dinner at your in-laws’, where every new topic was a potential grenade was at the top of the list.

Maybe he should have fallen in love with a therapist. Afra always was the smart one.

“You went with Aiden again?” Afra asked after Ari recounted, in halting words, dinner at one of Toronto’s more entertaining venues.

He nodded. “For one more song, and then Maxi Greene for two as well. Noella said she’d be in touch with them about potential tour dates.” Well, with their tour managers, anyway, if they had them. If not Afra might end up with a few more clients.

Too late, he realized that was the wrong thing to say. His mother’s fork clattered onto her plate. “I wish you wouldn’t leave again. Your father and I need you around.”

For a moment Ari was so surprised he couldn’t say anything. He locked eyes with Afra, who shook her head minutely in warning—This is going to go badly.

What else was new?

He put down his own fork so he didn’t throw it. “Maman, you know I love you and Baba. But when was the last time you asked me to help you with something?”

His mother looked to her husband, who had apparently decided Ben had the right idea by opting out of the evening entirely and was staring at his plate to avoid eye contact.

“It snowed while you were in Toronto,” she finally managed. “Your father and I can’t be clearing the driveway at our age. I’m not strong enough, and your father’s heart—”

“And yet the snow was cleared,” Ari pointed out.

“Because Ben did it.”

Ari glanced at Afra again, this time for permission. Raised eyebrows and pursed lips would’ve meant no. Instead he got a minuscule head tilt. Okay, then. “If Ben did it, then what do you need me for? Ben’s work is here. Mine isn’t, not always.”

His mother slammed her hand on the table. “Whycan’t you take this seriously? Our whole lives, your father and I have sacrificed for you, and now when we ask you to do this one thing—”

“You haven’tasked!” Ari exploded. “You demanded! And no one asked you to sacrifice for me, Maman. That was your choice.”

“And how could I do otherwise for my family? How can I not want what’s best for them?”

Ari gritted his teeth. “Of course I want what’s best for you and Baba. I will always be in your lives.”

“But not when you’re on tour,” she said bitterly.

He barely resisted the urge to throw up his hands. “What do you want me to do? Music is my profession. I have to play it to make a living.”

“You don’t. You could teach. Your friend Kayla teaches. If you settled down with Sohrab—he would be a good provider—”

What thefuck. He knew she wanted him to stay close at any cost. He just hadn’t realized she was willing to suggest to his face that he give up his dreams and become a househusband. “I need more in my life than family! I’m sorry, but I do. You and Baba sacrificed, but you had your work, your passion. Is mine less worthwhile because I don’t save lives? Because music does save lives, Maman—other people’s, but also my own.”

He needed music—the outlet, the expression. Music helped him process his emotions, and sharing his music let him connect with people in a way he had trouble with when it came to words.

Music had let him connect with Jax.

And now he was angry again.

“Ari….” She sighed, and for a moment he thought she might back off. “I don’t mean to make you feel as though your work isn’t important. But we’re your family. Surely that must mean something to you too.”

“My family,” Ari repeated. “Myfamily.”

Ari’s father put a hand on his forearm. “Ari—”

The fury inside him boiled over. “It’s funny you should say that, Maman, because family is important. And I think you would actually like for me to have one of my own one day.”

Afra reached for her water glass, presumably so she had something to do other than look at anyone.