Page 29 of Down My Chimney

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I said. “I tried to be quiet. You can go back to bed if you want.”

“No, no, if we’re up, we might as well stay up.” My dad waved me off.

“We’ve got a busy day anyway,” my mom agreed. “Might as well make use of the headstart. I’ll make the coffee.”

I’d been hoping for a few hours of sleep, but it was pointless to tell them that. They’d probably take that as just one more sign that something was wrong. So I let them usher me to the counter, let my mom pour me a cup of coffee, and smiled as I listened to them talk about their clients, their plans for Memorial Day, and the new canine nutritionist they were working with to fine-tune the dogs’ diets.

It was nice, being cocooned back with them, listening to their banter and feeling like I belonged somewhere. Until the subject changed.

After my mom poured her third cup of coffee, and my dad set a smoothie in front of me, the conversation hit a pause. My parents looked at each other, communicating silently. My dad nodded, and my mom turned to me.

“Blake, sweetheart, it’s not that we’re not happy to have you home, but are you sure nothing’s the matter?”

“What? No. Everything’s fine.” I thought I’d finally convinced them of that. “I told you, I just wanted to come home for a weekend. Is that so bad?”

“Not at all, kid,” my dad said. “We’re always happy to have you. We’re just…”

“Worried,” my mom finished.

My whole body tensed. “Worried?”

“Not worried,” my dad said. “Just…concerned.”

“Out of love,” my mom added. “Because we love you so much, sweetheart. You know that, don’t you?”

“Um, yes?” I looked between the two of them. “But you’re doing a pretty good job makingmeworried. What’s this about?”

“We’ve been doing some thinking,” she continued. “We know this semester has been hard for you—”

“And we’re so proud of all the progress you’ve been making with your tutor,” my dad said.

“Yes, definitely.” She nodded. “It’s just, well, this influencing thing…”

There it was. I knew I had to be doing something wrong in their eyes. No matter how hard I tried, I was never quite good enough.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you about that,” I muttered.

“No, of course you should have!” My dad smiled encouragingly. “We love knowing what’s going on in your life.”

“We really do,” my mom said.

“We’re just a little concerned about how this might be affecting your grades,” he continued. “We don’t want you to lose focus. And you’ve seemed a little…”

“Erratic,” my mom said.

He nodded. “A little erratic the past few times we’ve talked on the phone.”

“I’m not erratic!” I protested. “I’m just stressed. I just picked a hard major, that’s all. I was thinking that maybe I should change it, actually. I’m sure if I did that, things would get easier.”

“Now, there’s no need for that,” my dad chided. “Don’t give up.”

“It wouldn’t be giving up,” I began. “It would just be—”

“We’re so happy to finally see you buckling down,” my mom said, not giving me a chance to finish. “Getting serious about school. You’re a smart boy, Blake. And if you’d just spend a little more time on your classes and assignments—”

“And a little less on sports or posting online,” my dad said.

“We just know you’d knock our socks off with how well you could do.”

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