Page 70 of Hard to Take

“Excuse me. I just laughed.”

My mother sighs, exchanging a look with my dad.

“How’s your campaign going?” I ask.

She takes another bite of dinner, chewing thoughtfully.

“In my most recent speech, I overstated our commitment to funding on a particular program. If we issue a correction, it’ll look like we’re backing away from what we promised. If we don’t, my competition could raise it.”

“Which program?”

“After-school programming for children.”

I think it over. “You have donors interested in that. Why don’t you go to them and tell them what happened? Admit you misspoke, but tell them you’d like to meet that commitment. See if they’ll help.”

“That’s admitting my personal mistake to the people who fund my campaign. They’ll question my competence and whether they invested in the right place.”

“Or they’ll see that you’re human and appreciate your willingness to confide in them.”

She shakes her head. “Perhaps I was hasty cutting you off. I could use your help with this campaign.”

“I’m keeping busy. I’ve been working with Nova to schedule new shows and sales. Tomorrow, I’m helping Chloe with the Kodiaks New Years Eve fundraiser. And in between, I’m doing this Vivaro collaboration.”

While Miles was away, I went through the box of product they sent. There are some items I’m excited about.

“Tell me you didn’t commit to more than a post.”

“Why not? They’ve been straightforward to work with and prompt to pay.”

One brand partnership isn’t enough to sustain me forever, but it will help me to start a savings account, and be a huge stepping stone for future deals.

“They will want more,” she promises, “and they’ll expect you to fall in line. The world expects women who look like us to conform. To be grateful for every opportunity.”

“Like you expect me to?”

Mom’s eyes sharpen. “I’m trying to prepare you. And protect you.”

“I have a roof over my head, and I’m doing fine. Better than fine.”

As I head toward the kitchen with a casserole dish, I hear the front door opening.

My dad warmly greets Jay in the background. I continue to the kitchen set the dish in the sink.

“Pretending to wash dishes, huh? You haven’t washed a dish in years.”

I glance over my shoulder to see my brother leaning against the doorframe. “I know you’re not here to compliment my domestic abilities.”

“You and Miles have been sneaking around behind my back.”

I turn to face him, folding my arms. “I’m living with him. We were clearly trying to dodge you.”

Jay cocks his head. “You both had a hundred opportunities to say something. You didn’t.”

“It’s new!” I throw up my hands. “And as much as you hate to admit it, it wasn’t about you. On the court, it might be your job to boss people around, but when the whistle blows? You don’t get to say how I spend my time or with whom.”

I turn back to the sink and start furiously scrubbing the dish.

“Yeah, because you were such a great judge of character with Kevin.”

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