Page 7 of Being Julia

“Connor, she’s sixteen. Come on. You remember what it was like when you were sixteen.”

“Exactly, and that’s why she’s not allowed to date. I only had one thing on my mind at that age,” he said. “Sorry, princess, but the answer is no.”

I stood there and shook my head at him. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I was a lesbian?” I shouted.

As he sat there, he slowly shook his head and glared at me with angry eyes.

“You may go to your room now, Julia.”

When I started to walk away, I stopped, turned around, and looked at him with tears in my eyes.

“For the record, I know what a man-whore you used to be until you met Mom, so you have no right!”

“Julia!” my mom exclaimed.

I stomped up the stairs in a huff and slammed my bedroom door as hard as I could. I threw myself on my bed, lay face down, and sobbed into my pillow. My phone beeped with a text message from Collin.

“Are you okay, sis?”

“No. I hate him,”I replied.

There was a soft knock on the door, and my mom walked in. She sat on the bed next to me and rubbed my back.

“Julia, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Mom. Please get out,” I said in between sobs.

“You can go out with him, Julia. Just make sure he comes to the door when he picks you up so we can meet him first.”

I sniffled and turned my head. “Really? You’re going to let me go out with him?”

She took a tissue from my nightstand and handed it to me.

“Yes, you may go out with him.”

“But what about Dad?”

She pursed her lips as she gave me a small smile. “I’ve handled your dad. So don’t worry. But you need to understand that he’s only trying to protect you, and I know he goes overboard sometimes. But he does it out of love, Julia.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said as I hugged her tight.

“Dry your tears and go to bed.” She smiled as she walked to the door. She stopped and turned around. “I love you, Julia. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I love you too, Mom.” I smiled back.

The next morning, I got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. My dad was sitting at the table drinking his coffee, and I could feel him staring at me.

“Good morning, Julia.”

“Morning,” I said in a short tone.

I grabbed a bowl, poured some cereal and milk into it, and then took it over to the table. I wouldn’t look at him because I was still mad and felt terrible for what I’d said.

“This boy you’re interested in. Is his name Brody Sullivan?” he asked.

I looked up from my cereal bowl. “Yes.”

“He comes from a good and successful family. He’ll be picking you up tonight?”

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