Page 44 of Make The Cut

She sighs. “Ryder told me.”

At five-one, my mom is two inches shorter than me, but when she crosses the room to engulf me in a hug, I feel like a child again. The nostalgic scent of Pond’s cold cream wraps around me. I wish I was five years old and the only thing I had to cry about was a bully shoving me on the playground and giving me a skinned knee.

“Sometimes, I wish I never wrote that stupid blog…” I say into her shoulder, holding back a sob that’s desperate to break loose. “Then, I’d have my brother back.”

“Family’s important,” my mom says softly. “But you can’t live your whole life worried about what they’ll think, Poppy.”

I sniff, looking into her warm, brown eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when I married your dad, my parents were furious. They’d spent all this money sending me to college only for me to get married right after graduation and have River.” She chuckles.

“I always felt like you gave up your dreams for us. For your family.”

“Dreams change, Poppy.” She smooths my hair back from my face. “The dreams you had when you were twelve aren’t the same dreams you have now, right?”

I open my mouth to protest, but she’s right. At twelve, I wanted to be a veterinarian. “Yeah…”

“When I looked at your older brother’s red, wrinkly, crying newborn face… Well, all my dreams changed. I loved art, Poppy, don’t get me wrong, but my priorities were different. I knew I’d spend the rest of my life for a greater purpose than doing whatever I wanted to do at any moment. And that’s better than any fancy art gallery or European vacation could give me.” She kisses my cheek. “I know you think Ryder’s never gonna speak to you again. But he’ll come around.”

“Will he, though?” I sigh as she pats me on the arm. “He was so mad… Mom, I’ve done so many terrible things, hurt him in so many ways…”

Guilt coils in my stomach at the thought of the things I wrote, the things I said. I was bitter, jealous, and spiteful. I wanted to hit him where it hurt, to tell myself that he deserved the nasty things I said about him, because he was succeeding, and I wasn’t—not atLa Mode. Somehow, in my mind, his success gave me the right to tear him down. That maybe, if I threw enough mud on his reputation, I’d cover up the dirt festering in my soul.

“Oh, honey. You and Ryder may have fought as kids, but you always made up after, didn’t you? This is gonna be like that. Don’t worry too much, okay, Poppy? It gives you wrinkles.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”

Chapter Twenty-Two: Naoya Sugawa

Thanksgiving isn’t usually a big deal in our family. We usually make a bigger deal out of celebrating Chinese New Year or even the Mid-Autumn festival.

At least, I thought that was the case, until I woke up on Thanksgiving to the pounding on my bedroom door that could only be from my mother.

I groan. Fighting the urge to pull the covers over my head—that would be too childish—I trudge out of bed, feeling like a teenager again.

“Good morning to you, too, Mom. A phone call would’ve been nice.” I tug a t-shirt over my head before cracking open the door.

She’s wearing her nicest clothing: pearls that my father gave her—the only thing she didn’t give away after the divorce—and a knockoff Chanel tweed suit. In other words, she looks like a PTA mom at a school board meeting.

“Why do I need to call my son when I can just drive over to his house and see him? Especially on Thanksgiving.” She shakes her head as she surveys the room.

Her disapproval lands heavily on me. I tug at the collar of my t-shirt, my bedroom suddenly feeling too hot and cramped despite being large and airy. “I’m sorry I forgot about Thanksgiving, but we don’t usually do anything for it.”

A part of me had wondered if Poppy would invite me to hers. Of course not. That’s something people only do out of pity, and I don’t want to be someone she pities.

I don’t want her to see me as a kicked puppy or a boy abandoned by his father.

“Well, I thought it would be a nice change to do something this year, Naoya. Change is good.”

I catch her not-so-subtle implications and sigh. “I’m sure some change is good.”

She tugs at my shirtsleeve. “Come on, let’s go get some dim sum and you can tell me all about your life.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Have you heard from Dad recently?”

“I’m sure your father is very busy. He has wedding preparations to do, after all.”

“He keeps trying to call me and tell me about how he wants me at the wedding. As if I would want to go to a wedding and see my father get remarried to his mistress.”

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