Page 37 of Severance

Mikah hangs up before I finish the sentence.

13. Before

My father’s face screws up in displeasure. “When were you going to tell us?”

“I’m telling you now.” My heart’s racing despite the meditation session I had earlier in my room to prepare for this conversation.

“I don’t want my daughter to wait tables in some seedy bar!”

“It’s not a bar. It’s an upscale restaurant, Dad! Why do you always have to twist everything I say?”

My mother lets out a long, slow sigh but stays on the sidelines like she always does when things between the three of us become heated.

The air in the living room is thick with rage and I already know bringing up the move at this moment is a bad idea. My father can only handle disobedience in small doses.

“What was wrong with the job at the bakery?” he asks, placing both hands on his hips. “Has Mrs. Kaminski treated you wrong? She’s a nice lady and the pay’s great. Besides, what’s going to happen to this blog of yours?”

“Dad”—I roll my eyes at the ceiling—“I don’t need to work at the bakery to have a baking blog. I want to try something different.”

“Does it have to be downtown?” His eyebrows pull together as a sign of concern. “College should be your first priority right now.”

“I have a 3.7 GPA! My last final is in two days and I’m starting at Toro Bravo after Christmas. It’s vacation time. It’s perfect. Can’t you see?”

“I don’t like the idea of you working in a place like that.”

I drop my gaze to the floor and try to breathe, but my heart’s doing a crazy dance and I realize the move-out-to-downtown portion of the talk isn’t going to happen today or anytime soon, for that matter.

One thing at a time, Alana.

“Why don’t we all sleep on it and discuss this again over the weekend?” My mother tries to defuse the situation, but it’s clearly not working, because my father’s face only gets redder and unhappier.

“I’m spending Friday night at Jess’s,” I say firmly. “We’re baking cupcakes and working on the Christmas post for my blog.”

“Waitressing isn’t good enough for a girl like you,” my father sputters, looking at me like I’ve just committed a crime, which wouldn’t be far from the truth if he knew about that kiss with Dakota and the dirty thoughts constantly filling my mind.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and head back to my room.

“Young lady!” My father’s stern voice follows me up the stairs. “You need to watch your manners.”

I shut the door, ready to sulk in silence, but a new text message from Dakota that must have come in when I was trying to reason with my parents sends my heart into overdrive.

my friend’s band has a show at Mississippi Studios on friday night. i have an extra ticket. do you want to go with me?

I reread the message at least ten more times, trying to figure out whether he wants to keep the Thursday dinner plans and see me the day after or scratch the dinner and only see me on Friday. I feel a rush of panic rolling through me. All the what-ifs suddenly make my head hurt. I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the phone for a while before finally sending him a response.

Sure. What about Thursday?

thursday i’m taking u out

An odd mix of relief and bliss washes over me.

Yes, I’d love to go with you on Friday.

A kiss emoji pops up on my screen.

I dial Jess and tell her about the change of plans.

She takes the news better than expected. “What band are you seeing?”

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