Page 9 of Choosing You

“I’ll see plenty of it later. Let’s just go.” I pull on him, trying to get out of there as fast as possible.

We find a restaurant a couple miles away. It’s loud with screaming kids and clanking dishes. I don’t do well with loud noises. I get very anxious and feel like I can’t breathe. When my mom was alive, she would yell and throw things or bang pans together to get my attention. When I got older, I’d run out of the house to escape the noise.

“How was your first night at college?” Ryan asks. He’s way more excited about the whole college thing than I am.

I hesitate, wishing I could tell him the truth. But I can’t. Over the years, I’ve learned that people really don’t like the truth. The truth is ugly and painful. It’s uncomfortable. It makes you question things. It creates uncertainty. People don’t want that. They want to hear a version of the truth that meets the expectations they’ve already conjured up in their own head. And Ryan has conjured up the idea of me living this picture-perfect happy life at a prestigious private college.

“It was great,” I say, smiling but also cringing as the toddler in the seat behind me lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Did you meet anyone last night or did you go right to bed?”

“I met some girls when I was in the bathroom,” I lie. “They were really friendly and they live on my floor.”

“See? I knew you’d make friends right away.”

“And that Garret guy stopped by again. He thought you and I were dating. I almost couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Huh. So he’s trying to see if you have a boyfriend.” Ryan gets his overprotective look. “I want you to be careful around these college guys. Keep practicing those self defense moves I taught you and don’t be afraid to use them.”

“Okay, Dad.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m serious. Remember, bony parts meet soft parts equals pain. Jab an elbow in his eye or a knee in his groin.”

“Yeah, enough of that. I’m trying to eat breakfast.”

“I’m just saying. It works. You may need it someday, especially if you’ve got pretty boy knocking on your door all the time. What did he want anyway?”

Pretty boy? I guess Garret is kind of a pretty boy. Like a male model for one of those preppy clothing brands.

“He invited me to a party tonight. I told him I’d go, but I’m sure I won’t.”

“You should go. But go with a group of girls. You shouldn’t get in a car alone with a guy you just met.”

“He said it’s close to campus. We’ll probably just walk there.”

The toddler behind me screams again making me nearly jump from my seat. The screaming doesn’t stop. It’s too loud. Way too loud. My feet start nervously tapping the floor under the table.

Ryan doesn’t seem to notice the noise. “Still, just go with those girls you met. It’s safer.” He pours more syrup on his pancakes.

“You worry way too much. You’re like a 50-year-old stuck in a 21-year-old’s body.”

He keeps his eyes down on his plate and I realize I shouldn’t have said that. I know Ryan doesn’t want to be that way. He wants to be a carefree college student like other guys his age. Instead he’s been forced into this caretaker role for his dad. I suppose that would’ve been my future, too, if my mom hadn’t died. I’d be the responsible caretaker of my drunk, pill-addicted mother.

I kick his foot under the table. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I like that you’re responsible. I was just kidding.”

He sets his fork down and looks at me across the table. I know that look. And I know I won’t like whatever he’s about to say.

CHAPTERFOUR

“I have some bad news.I was going to wait until after breakfast but I might as well tell you now. My dad—” Ryan stops for a moment as the bus boy cleans the table next to us, banging dishes together. When he leaves, Ryan continues. “Dad went to the hospital in the middle of the night in an ambulance.”

“Why? What happened?” I swallow hard as my feet continue to anxiously tap the floor.

Before he can answer, the toddler behind me goes into total tantrum mode, stomping repeatedly on the seat of the booth and screaming even louder than before. I can’t take another second of it. It’s so much noise and I need it to be quiet right now.

I whip around and glare at the parents who don’t seem to notice the excruciating sounds coming their child. “What the hell? Can’t you make that thing be quiet? I mean, seriously? Are you not hearing this?”

They stare at me as if I’m the rudest person on the planet. I turn back around. Ryan’s red with embarrassment, trying not to make eye contact with the people behind me. Meanwhile the kid continues to scream.

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