Chapter one
“I will never understand why you insisted on bringing this god-awful chair all the way from home. A pink velvet chair belongs in a teenage bedroom, Sloane, not your first college apartment. This is a chance to refine your home design skills before you get married and have an entire house to decorate yourself.”
And I’ll never understand why you bothered having a child, Mother, but you don’t hear me criticizing your decisions.
I turn, eyeing the only piece of furniture I’ve ever picked out for myself. “Fine, Mom, we can take it to Goodwill and donate it if you don’t think it matches the space.”
“Well, nothing isreallygoing to work in this space. The building’s orientation does not allow for any good natural light during the day, and the layout of the bedrooms is abysmal. I’m not sure why you picked this complex to begin with. And we aren’t taking the chair back home. Your father already went to the trouble of bringing it all this way. Especially after he almost threw his back out carrying all your books,”my mother says, continuing the overarching theme of my life—that no decision I ever make is good enough.
Not for a lack of trying.
Hobbies, clothes, hairstyles, boyfriends. They’ve all been carefully chosen in an effort to keep Janice Johnson happy. The only things that have come close to succeeding have been my choice of college (her alma mater) and my current boyfriend of three years, Dean Christensen.
Maybe my parents can adopt him, and they can live a peaceful beige existence together.
Wishful thinking, although I doubt I would be missed at all in this scenario. It might take a month or more for anyone to notice I was gone. At least until my parents host another party or event that requires my attendance, in a nice dress, on Dean’s arm, making small talk and listening to jokes about when we’ll finally get engaged.
My mother’s scoff from the front door of the apartment brings me out of my daydream world, where my parents and I don’t know each other. “I think you have the wrong apartment, dear. This is 121 Bedford Street. Are you sure you aren’t looking for another address, perhaps something on the east side of town?”
Looking toward the door, I see that Jan has physically blocked a petite brunette with bright blue highlights from entering.
“Allie! Thank God you’re here,” I greet my roommate, who I met last fall in speech class. She single-handedly saved me from an hour of utter boredom and icebreaker questions by suggesting we make up increasingly outlandish stories about ourselves to pass the time. We stayed close after that and evenhad a few of our introductory-level drama classes together. Those classes were really what kept me from breaking down during my freshman year—the only light-heartedness I felt among the business classes my parents forced me into.
“Sloane, I’ve missed you so much.” Allie gives me a look that says she can’t believe she’s finally met the infamous Janice Johnson, and she’s even more impressed than she already was that I’m such a well-adjusted, relatively normal human.
I know, aren’t I impressive? Can you believe she spawned me?I try to convey with a look, but Allie is already in the apartment and moving toward what we agreed would be her bedroom.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear, you must be Andrea. Sloane has told us so much about you, but she didn’t mention what…fun hair you have. Scott, isn’t this hair just the quirkiest thing you’ve ever seen?” my mother says, clearly looking to my dad for backup on the unsavory character who just interrupted her monologue on my shortcomings.
My dad is too engrossed in golf highlights on his phone to offer more than a dismissive, "Of course, dear."
“It’s Allie, ma’am, and I’m so glad you like my hair,” Allie says with a casually dismissive wave as she heads into her bedroom.
Watching her leave, my mom turns back to me and opens her mouth to no doubt spew some sexist, homophobic, or otherwise offensive nonsense, but I’m saved when a timer goes off on her phone and she’s redirected. “Oh, it’s already half past five. We need to leave to meet Dean at Marchetti’s for dinner.”
My gaze snaps up to meet hers as she gathers her things, my dad already standing to head to the car. “I didn’t know youwere planning to meet Dean. I made plans with Allie to see some of our friends from class once we finished settling things here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sloane. Of course Dean would want to see you the first day you were back in town, and surely, you knew we wouldn’t leave without seeing our favorite guy. Just because he had a prior commitment this morning and missed the actual moving doesn’t mean you aren’t his top priority,” my mom says.
“His prior commitment was golf with his fraternity brothers, Mom.” I sigh. Not that I’m surprised at the fact that I’m not his priority. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s priority. Certainly not for something as insignificant as moving day.
The drive to the restaurant begins with instructions on how I should conduct myself this semester, as well as the organizations and activities I’m expected to participate in. A few reminders are thrown in about how I’m the only child my parents have and how I have the sole responsibility for our family’s reputation.
“When did Dean say he was supposed to meet us? I thought we agreed on six o’clock?” Mom asks after being seated at a booth in the back corner of the cozy Italian restaurant.
I start to tell her that he hasn’t responded to my text, letting him know we finished with the moving truck and were on our way, but I stop when I hear Dad defend his tardiness.
“It’s only six twenty, Janice. He’s been golfing all day. Cut him a little slack.”
My father, ladies and gents, always wanting the absolute bestfor his daughter.
“I know, I know—but we need to get checked into our hotel. We’ll need a good night’s sleep tonight after all that moving if we’re going to make the first service at Sloane’s church tomorrow morning.”
Oh crap. I forgot I told her about that church. My parents are religious with a capital R. Finding a church was a requirement of theirs if I was going to go away to college, but to be honest, I’m a little churched out. And with the extra classes they insist I take every semester, I really just want to sleep in on Sundays. I told them I had been attending a church called “Calvary” last year and have just rolled with that ever since. I even told Dean I was going regularly, and because he’s either sleeping off a hangover on Sundays or golfing, he’s never called my bluff.
In the past, I’ve wondered why my parents don’t expect Dean to attend church if it’s so important to them, and the only answer I’ve arrived at is the patriarchy. Or just general misogyny? He’s golfed with my father for years, and I’m convinced he’s more like a child to them than I am. If both of us were hanging off a cliff, they would save him, I’m sure. He and his “golf career” are way more important.
“There he is!” my dad bellows, breaking my thoughts about how I’m going to explain to my parents why literally nobody at that church will know who I am.
