Page 76 of Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances)
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kate
“Hello, Cedric,” I say to my parents’ butler as I walk into their home for the first time in three years. Cedric has been with my family as long as I can remember. He must be in his seventies now, and his white hair is a sharp contrast to his black suit.
“Miss Katherine,” Cedric says with a warm smile and wide eyes, clearly surprised to see me. I’d always liked “the help,” much to my parents’ dismay—hell, I was practically raised by them. Cedric’s greeting ends there as you never know when someone may be watching in my parents’ home.
“Are my parents here?” I ask him, resisting the urge to hug him. His smile shows more emotion than I’ve seen from my mother or father in years. Aside from Casey and Jay, I’d forgotten what it was like for someone to be happy to see me.
Cedric nods. “They’re having breakfast in the breakfast nook.”
“Thank you, Cedric.” I roll my eyes internally. Yes…my parents arethosepeople. The ones who eat breakfast at one table and dinner at another. They typically have lunch out or in the sunroom. As if having three meals at one table would bring them down to the level of a commoner.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss.” I give him one last smile as I make my way through the house towards the dining rooms.
I’m mildly surprised to see the house seems exactly as it had been when I’d left for college. You’d think my mother would have found something dated that had needed replacing, but from what I can see, everything is the same. It still looks like a museum. I smirk as I run my fingertip along the bright, white walls. Then I quickly remove my finger and feel guilty as one of the maids will likely be held responsible for any smudges I leave behind.
The breakfast nook comes into view, and I see my father seated at one end of the six-seater table and my mother at the other. They aren’t speaking, or even looking at each other. My father has his nose in the paper, and my mother is tapping away on her smart phone. They haven’t even noticed my arrival.
I clear my throat, and they both look up, annoyed at the interruption. I catch very brief looks of surprise on each of their faces before they school them back to cool indifference.
“Katherine,” my father says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why aren’t you at school?” my mother adds.
“Summer vacation,” I tell them, which isn’t entirely a lie. I’d never taken a break for the summer though; I always took summer courses. I walk over to the table and pull out a chair, intending to sit down, but then I change my mind. I need to do this standing up. I can’t give them the upper hand by being able to look down on me as they berate me for my choices.
My mother laughs. “Summer vacation? We don’t pay for you to take vacations, Katherine. What are you doing here?”
If I hadn’t been used to her coldness, her words might hurt, but the unconditional love I’ve received from my friends has shown me that I’m better than this. I’m better than the way my parents treat me. I don’t deserve it.
I take a deep, calming breath, and then I let it all out. “I’m here to talk to you. To both of you,” I say, looking first at my mother then my father. My mother looks amused while my father just looks bored.
Why have I been trying so hard all my life to impress these people? They couldn’t care less about me. They don’t care about anything.
“So talk. We don’t have all day.”
I wonder if my mother has a heart at all?
“I’m leaving Stanford.”
“Like hell you are,” my father says, slamming his hand on the table, suddenly paying attention.
If I hadn’t been expecting the reaction, I’d be startled…but I was, so I’m not. I lock eyes with my father and tell him, “Yes, I am. I’ve already withdrawn from classes and given notice to the university.”
“Well, then you’ll re-enroll. I’ll call the dean right now,” my mother says, picking up her Blackberry.
“No!” My mother looks up at me, and I can’t tell if she’s surprised I’ve raised my voice at her or if it’s the Botox. “I’m not continuing my studies at Stanford. I want to teach. I’m enrolling in a teaching program.”
“That’s ridiculous. You are not enrolling in a teaching program. You’re going to med school. We already discussed this. It’s final.”
I look at my father and shake my head. “I’m not. I’m not going to med school. I wanted to want that—for you, I really did. All I’ve wanted my entire life was to make you proud.” I look to my mother, “Both of you. But I can’t do it at the expense of my own happiness anymore. I’ve tried to talk to you about this, and you always belittle it. I don’t know what else I can do to make you understand that I’m not happy with pre-med.”
“It’s work, Katherine,” my father says. “Work doesn’t always make you happy. That’s why it’s calledwork.”
“But it can. It can make me happy. Don’t you want that for me? Don’t you want me to do something that makes me happy?” I look him straight in the eyes and plead with him to understand. I plead with him to see how miserable his daughter is and for him to want her to be happy. I get nothing in response.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t have time for this nonsense,” my mother says, rising from her chair and moving to leave the room.
