Between the Lines
His eyebrows kick up once before he rolls off the sofa. “Yeah?”
She asks for a towel. He slips into the bathroom to show her where they’re kept, and stays in. The sound of giggling pushes through the door, and I pick up the remote and click on the television. My voyeuristic tendencies have explicit limits, and listening to John screw some chick in the bathroom is definitely outside that perimeter. On the screen a correspondent reports on a politician who got caught cheating on his wife with their kid’s nanny… who’s in the country illegally.
My first thought is what a moron, and then they show a photo of the hot Guatemalan nanny. Damn—that poor bastard was doomed from the start.
*** *** ***
Emma
“I’m just not sure this is such a great idea.” I sit in Emily’s vintage Sentra, staring at the house. “Talking to my father how I feel is always an exercise in frustration, Em. There’s no way I can tell him all the stuff we talked about.”
“Then start with the college thing. Tell him you want to go.”
“Do I?”
She sighs. “You said you did last night.”
“I felt safe talking to you about it. It’s different, bringing it up to him. He’ll probably just say no, anyway, even if I manage to argue my point adequately, which is doubtful if he starts objecting right off. Plus I’m half scared to death that if he actually lets me do it, it might be a huge mistake.” I hear the panic building in my voice. “I could flunk out. I could ruin the career I have. Emily, if that happens, what else do I have?”
She grabs my hand. “Emma, what the hell. A few hours ago, you were way more certain of yourself. It’s like the sight of this place scares the confidence right out of you.”
“He doesn’t know me. He only thinks he does. I’ve just followed along my whole life, no big rebellion, barely any disagreement. I always thought that at least he understands my need to be an actor. But what if that isn’t him understanding me at all, what if that’s just what he wants, and what he really understands is nothing.”
“He’s your dad, Emma,” she says, still holding my hand.
“Em, sometimes you and your parents argue. Yell at each other even. But you know they’re trying. You know they love you.” My throat feels tight. “It’s not the same with me and them. It never has been. You know that as well as anybody.”
She pulls me in for a hug. “If you don’t want to talk to him, then don’t. But I think you should go in there and say what you need to say. For your own sake. Because yeah, you’re almost eighteen, and it’s your life, and maybe this is the first step to just telling someone besides me what you want out of it.”
“I don’t know how to start, what to say.” I’m stalling, and we both know it.
“Yes you do. Go in there. Just say it.” Emily has this way about her when she knows she’s right. Compassionate, but persistent. I take a deep breath, and go inside.
My father’s sitting in his reading chair with a business magazine spread across his lap. He reads them all, in paper form and online. I fear the usual smallness of my voice. “I need to talk to you,” I say, too loudly, because I have to force it out. He startles and the magazine jerks in his hands.
He exhales. “Okay. What’s up?” Looking at my face, he reads something there that changes his expression from interest to wariness. “Um, Chloe will be home in an hour or so, if this is something important …”
I ignore that, clear my throat and sit, my hands clenching each other on my knees. No way in hell I’m waiting for Chloe to return. “I, uh… I want to go to college.” Sitting on the sofa across the room from him, I wait while the silence lengthens between us. I think maybe he’s in shock, and I wait for him to snap out of it.
He frowns, puzzled. “You do? You’ve never mentioned this before…”
“I’ve just been thinking lately, with high school almost done, you know… What’s next? I’ve been talking to other cast members who are planning to go, and I started considering the idea. And I decided I want to go.”
“Okay…” he says after a moment. “Do you have a university in mind? A course of study?” I look at him, searching for potential disparagement. I don’t see any. Not that this means there isn’t any. But I don’t see it.
I swallow the lump in my throat, the half-dozen arguments Emily and I formulated last night jumbling together in my head, like I stopped short in the middle of the path and they all ran into me. And then I realize he’s not saying no. “Theatre, I think. I don’t know where, yet. I can start checking out places online, looking at requirements and stuff. I need to take the SAT…” My eyes slide to the floor. “Um, how will I pay the tuition?”
“Oh, you’ve got that covered with your Coogan account. After School Pride wraps up, you’ll have more than enough, if you’re sure that’s what you want to use it for.”
“I’m sure.” I’m more sure about this than I’ve ever been about anything.
“Is there… anything else?”
I look at him, and I can’t say any more. As high as this one thing leaves me, as giddy with truth-telling as I feel, I’m not ready to bare my soul just yet.
“Um, no.”
He smiles, relieved. “Okay then. Well, you should probably go get ready for dinner. I think Chloe’s planned a fun night out for your last night home.”