Ann Aguirre - I Want It That Way

Mom nodded. “Your dad will look for work, but the economy’s rough right now.”

“At my age and with my health problems, it’s unlikely I’ll find anything.” The admission came out coated in shame, as if he hadn’t already done so much. “In time, I might get disability, but it won’t be enough to help you. I’m sorry, bean.”

I said in exasperation, “Would you stop apologizing? Dad, I only care about you. I couldn’t give two shits about tuition right now.”

My mom frowned. “You should. All you’ve talked about since you were sixteen is getting your degree.”

Because I want to make you proud. I wanted to teach, too, but for as long as I could remember, my parents praised me for being smart. They talked about how I’d get out of Sharon and make something of myself. No retail job for me, no minimum wage. I’d never wash dishes or mop floors. I was too clever for that, bound for better things. So I had been trying to live up to their expectations: never miss work, study hard and don’t fuck up my chances.

Maybe it’s time I said it out loud. But I couldn’t look at them while I did, so I stared at my hands. “That’s because I don’t want to disappoint you. I thought you’d be upset if I took longer than four years or I didn’t get summa cum laude or—”

“Only if you’re unhappy.” My mom sounded shocked, shaken even.

Timidly I glanced at the screen. My dad whispered something to my mom and she nodded. “If it’s okay with you, he’s going to lie down. This seems like a talk we need to have alone first. I’ll fill him in later.”

I nodded. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” At home, he would’ve mussed my hair or poked me in the side.

It was harder to share certain things in front of him. Since he was the strong, silent type, I always felt like he thought I should be, too. Rob took after him in that respect; my brother never admitted to a feeling that I could recall. So my mom was kind of the bridge between all of us, trying to make us understand each other—with varying degrees of success.

“Okay, let’s back up. You mean you’re doing all of this for us?”

“Well, no. But...” I struggled to find the words. “I do feel some pressure to perform. My grades have to stay above a certain level for my scholarship, and if I don’t do well here, then it’s like you wasted all of that money on me, when you should’ve kept it for yourselves. Now that Dad’s sick, you might need it more than ever. So I never miss work because I don’t want you to think you made a mistake, believing in me, trusting me.”

“Nadia, honey, it sounds like you spend an awful lot of time fretting about us, what we think and how we’ll feel. But it’s your life.”

“And there’s a right way to live it, huh, Mom?” I didn’t realize her warning from Thanksgiving was still eating at me, but I could quote it by heart. “‘This boy has already gotten some girl pregnant and messed up his future. You can do better. Find someone who can start a family with you when the time is right.’”

“I sound incredibly judgmental.” She rubbed a hand over her face, but her weariness wasn’t enough to shut me up.

“Not just you. Everyone. According to the world, there’s a right way to do things. I should get my degree in four years—if it takes more, I’m a failure. Next, find an awesome job, and then, only then, look for someone to share my life. We should be married 2.5 years before we reproduce. Then if I’m infertile or he is, people will look down on us if we adopt, if we consider in vitro. One of us will be a failure again, faulty genetic stock, and if I don’t want kids at all, there’s something wrong, because normal women love babies, don’t they, all of them?”

My heart broke for Diana, who had loved Ty and dreamed of a life with him, and then she ran from domestic bliss, to a future without diapers, where she could work with lab equipment, instead. And too many people would say there was something wrong with her. Because what kind of monster could desert her own child? At this moment, I hated everyone in the world, myself included.

Now that I’d started venting, I couldn’t shut up. My mom listened, wide-eyed, as I babbled on, “God forbid if I fall in love with a girl. My roommate Angus, he’s completely wrong, according to some assholes. In some states, it’s not even legal for him to get married. Doesn’t matter that he’s the sweetest guy. Society says he’s not even allowed to have a family.”

“Nadia, are you telling me you’re gay?” Mom managed to ask.

“What? No. I’m...” Falling apart.

The months without Ty finally caught up to me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and the misery came out in endless word vomit. My mom would never want to Skype with me again, because I told her everything —about Ty and Sam—and this love that wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did or how I did it. By the time I finished unloading, my face was smeared with tears and Courtney had tiptoed in and out of our room, clearly not wanting to intrude.

“You love him,” my mom said quietly.

“God, yes. But I’m twenty-two. I’m too young to be tied down, right? And with Sam, it just can’t be anything less.”

“I was twenty-one when I had Rob. Twenty-five when you came along. And your dad was twenty-six when we got married. I was nineteen. My mother told me he was too old—that it would never work out. She didn’t like his family, either, or the fact that one of his brothers went to prison. But...he was the right person for me. So I didn’t listen. I married him, anyway.”

That was news to me. My grandmother, who made winter soup and black bread, she’d disapproved of my dad?

“She never gave any sign that she didn’t support you two.”

“Not after I proved to her that it could work...and that he was good to me. Telling her wouldn’t have been enough. She threatened to disown me, but once she saw, she understood.”

From the strength of their relationship, my mother made the right call back then. With my parents together and happy, I’d always been an oddity at school. So many relationships ended in divorce, maybe because some people were terminally stupid at nineteen and shouldn’t be in charge of a kitten’s well-being, let alone a baby. But others, like my mom, could start young and build a beautiful life with someone.

With my dad.

That was when I suspected what she was getting at. I froze, staring at the screen. “What are you saying?”

“I want you to be happy, that’s all. I don’t care about college, except that it’s your dream to teach. Obviously, I want better for you than I had, but I can tell you’ve thought about Ty a lot and that you understand how it will be with him. If this boy will put the smile back on your face, you have my blessing.”

“He’s not a boy. He hasn’t been since Sam came along.”

My mom smiled. “Fair enough. But I’m forty-seven years old, and anyone under thirty seems like a baby to me. What are you going to do?”

“About college, tuition or Ty?” The tension eased out of me. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much worry I was hauling around.

“All of the above.”

Pausing, I pondered my options then shook my head. “I’m not sure. I need to think. Right now I’m too emotional to work it out and be sure I’m making the right choice.”

“Keep me posted,” she said, smile widening. “You know, I like this Skype business. It’s harder for you to lie to me.”

“Impossible. Take care of Dad, okay?”

Her eyes were beautiful and serene. “I’ve been doing that for twenty-eight years. I’m not likely to stop, just because he needs me a little more.”