Page 72 of Face Me Off

“What does that mean?” He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying. Can he?

“Honey, she’s hardly the pedigree of the Mortons. There comes a time when he’ll stop playing around and come to his senses. I do like Amanda, but she’s not a Morton.”

My fork drops. The turkey tastes like sandpaper as I process Dad’s words. How can he say that? They liked Amanda. Her work ethic. Her intelligence. They’ve done nothing but praise her. And this is what they think? That she’s not worthy of marrying someone with a bank account?

I rub the shell in my pocket, harnessing as much tranquility it’s willing to give.

If they think this about her, someone they liked, I have zero chance of ever pleasing them.

“I’ve decided to switch my major,” I say, letting the words hang in the air.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before the storm hits.

“What?” Mom’s voice is shrill, her face etched in disbelief. “But you’ve always wanted…”

“No, Mom,” I cut her off, needing her to understand. “Dentistry isn’t my passion. It’s yours.”

The accusation hangs in the air like a tangible thing. They draw back slightly.

“What field do you want to change to?” Dad asks after a moment of tense silence. His voice is calm, but his eyes are stormy.

I sit straighter, and with as much conviction as possible, I say, “Art.”

The veins on his neck bulge as he slams his fist on the table. “That drivel?”

There’s that word again. Reducing my talent to slander. But as the argument and the threats continued, I knew I had chosen the right path. Their disappointment is palpable, but so is my determination. I’ll never please them. So why try? I need to focus on myself. It’s my life to live, after all. I better embrace and make the most of it, or else I’ll end up with a life full of regrets.

“I can be an intelligent artist. Use that intelligence to make good business decisions.” It’s a compromise, but Dad doesn’t budge.

“There’s no way a daughter of mine is majoring in Art. That isn’t negotiable.”

“You’re right. It’s non-negotiable because it’s what I’m doing.” I rub the shell again, hoping to slow my quickened pulse.

“How do you think you’ll fund this adventure? How would you pay for your apartment?”

Tears spring to my eyes. I should’ve anticipated his threat to pull funding. It’s his only leverage. The apartment is paid for the year.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll make an Only Fans account to supplement tuition. Who knows? Maybe some of your club buddies may be clients.”

“Madison!” Mom exclaims, clutching her pearls.

“Don’t ever raise your voice to me again.”

“Or what? You’ll cut me from your will?” I shove my plate away. “Newsflash, I don’t want your money. I don’t want any of this.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Dad finally croaks out, his voice hoarse. He looks older suddenly, as if he had aged ten years in seconds.

“From me. The real me that you never bothered to know.”

Without another word, I push my chair back and stand up, my heart pounding as I make my way to the door.

I almost jump out of my skin when my phone buzzes with a text.

Ryan: How’s it going?

A strange fluttering overtakes my stomach. Ryan’s text feels like a lifeline I so desperately need.

Me: Need to see you. Meet me behind the mall in about twenty?

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