Page 43 of Totally Off Limits

“I hated it, dad. I felt like my soul was dying.”

Now Sierra was actually enjoying the proceedings. It was just like when she’d admitted to her parents that she was pregnant, only this time she wasn’t the one getting raked over the coals. And for precious Layne to fall out of favor…well, that really was something. And it was about time something was hard for him. The little shit had breezed through high school, even graduating early while simultaneously knocking out a few senior-to-sophomore credits with the community college—and now the apple was officially losing its shine.

“Your soul was dying. Really? Do you know how fortunate you are to live in a country and a time where and when you can even consider that?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s my life and if I’m going to work, it’s gonna have to be doing something I love.”

Rebecca finally spoke. “And what would that be?”

Layne’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “English.”

“English.” Rebecca repeated the word as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Yeah. I tried it, okay? I tried. But I was so damn miserable and bored reading about quantum mechanics and thermodynamics—and I don’t get off on all the analysis and equations and algorithms like all the other nerds do. It’s not my thing.”

Paul said, “Wait a minute.”

“No, dad. I’vebeenwaiting. I’ve been trying. And it wasn’t getting better. So I talked with my advisor, and she said if I hated my classes, I was going to hate my whole life, because it would be more and more of that.”

“No, son. The physics degree is just a steppingstone for becoming a university professor.”

“But I don’t want to do that, either. Then I’d just be teaching shit that I hate. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Language,” Rebecca said, her right eyebrow pressed down, indicating extreme displeasure, even while the rest of her face maintained its frigid rigidity.

“Just listen to what I’m saying, mom. I hate—hate—physics, and even that isn’t a strong enough word. Studying it was killing me, and after I met with my advisor, I took some online assessment tests. And I realized the gen ed English classes I’d had to take had been my favorites. I love reading literature and I enjoy writing. So I changed my major.”

“Without telling us.”

“Yes, because I knew what you’d say. And I was on track to graduate—or so I thought. But my new advisor somehow missed something. They found it when they were doing my degree audit.”

“How long have you known this?”

Layne’s face mirrored his mother’s, cold and unmoving, but Sierra could see heightened emotions in his eyes. For just an instant, Sierra once more felt sorry for her brother. She knew how he felt, tired of being bullied by their parents into ignoring their true desires to be the perfect adult children. And, like a child outgrows his school clothes over the summer, Layne’s true nature and emotions could no longer be tamped down.

Sierra had been there many a time…but she continued stuffing them inside.

Paul pushed his plate away from his body in such a way that everyone looked at him. “He’s known for a while. Degree audits aren’t done a week before graduation.” He turned his Arctic gaze toward his son. “You’ve known for a while. Probably February at the latest?”

Layne’s eyes showed regret and fear, but the rest of his face and even his body reflected resistance, from his clamped jaw to his overly straightened shoulders. Instead of saying anything, though, he simply shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Finally, Layne shook his head. “Partly because I knew you’d reactthisway.”

“That’s a copout.”

“AndI was hoping to fix it. I met with several advisors, the Dean, the Chair of the English Department…even the Provost. They apologized profusely but ultimately told me I had to meet all of the requirements for graduation. One of the other advisors I talked to said maybe I could take a comparable class from an online university and transfer it over, but by the time we found something that would work, it was too late to get it all done before graduation.”

Paul asked, “So whenwillyou graduate?”

“I think I’ll be done by the end of the summer or fall—but I probably won’t walk till next year.”

“They won’t let you walk now?”

Layne sighed, his shoulders dropping. “After everything that happened, I didn’t even ask.”

“I’ll give them a call.”

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