Page 29 of Middle Ground
“Because I’vetalkedwith him. Genuine conversations. Something you should maybe think about doing.”
“You really should be saving all this motherly wisdom for your son, you know,” I say.
She gives my arm a squeeze and then returns to her slice of pizza. “Don’t worry. There is plenty of my smarts to go around.”
I pick up my slice of pizza again. “Alright, enough of my depressing shit. What’s going on in the world of Pippa Rhodes?”
She shrugs. “Nothing new.”
Despite what she says, I know that tone. My eyes narrow. While I tend to overshare between the two of us, Pippa doesthe opposite. Luckily for her, I’m here to make sure she doesn’t bottle everything up and hurt herself in the process.
Now it’s her turn to deposit a half-eaten slice back into the box. Her shoulders slump. “I got another email from my mom,” she explains. “They want me to come back home.”
It took many months of Pippa living in one of the rooms at the inn when she first arrived for me to coax her story out of her. Even then, I’m sure I don’t know all of it. What I do know is that Pippa and Declan’s parents are pieces of work who don’t deserve their children or their grandson.
“Fuck that! You and Atticus belong in Fraisier Creek. You’re not going anywhere.”
She looks down at her hands. “They blame me for Declan leaving.”
I scoff. “They need to look in the goddamn mirror. Besides, he’s a grown man who can make his own decisions.”
I know Pippa has never regretted leaving home, despite how much her parents try to guilt her into believing it. But when her brother followed in her footsteps and showed up in town with nothing but the clothes on his back, I knew she felt bad. Like it was her fault for showing him a different life was possible when it was really the best gift she could’ve ever given him.
She shivers. “Alright, let’s not talk about them anymore. They’re ruining my appetite for perfectly good pizza.”
For her sake and mine, I change the subject entirely, and we forget about Jackson and her parents for the rest of the night.
I regret eating so much pizza.
Usually, I can put away a good three slices no problem, but tonight, the food sloshes in my stomach with unease. I thought just going to bed would help, but that has only made it worse.
I lie on my back, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. I used to have some of those glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there, but over the years, they’ve fallen down. All but one. That lonely star sits in the corner, mocking me.
A loud meow shatters the quiet, and then Fish jumps onto my bed. He prowls across the mattress until he climbs on top of me. Despite my protests, he kneads his paws into my boobs, and then he plops all his weight onto my sternum. I let out anoomph.
“I saw you with those lace panties earlier. Did you at least return them?”
It’s dark, but I can just picture his unbothered expression. The simplenoto my question.
I begin to stroke his back. Sometimes, he deigns to purr for me. Tonight is not one of those times. Still, he doesn’t leave. He just lets his weight soothe me, little by little.
“Am I a failure, Fish?” I ask. He chirps in response, as if to sayyes. “That’s it. No more catnip for you, buddy.”
With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, and I try again to fall asleep. Instead, my mind continues to race. It’s in the dark, when I’m completely alone, that I contemplate everything.
All I’ve ever wanted is to make my mother proud. To channel all this love I have for the business into something beautiful. When I was a kid, I conjured up grandiose plans ofwhat I would do once the inn was mine one day. Now that that day is here, I’m paralyzed by fear.
How did my mother ever think I would be good enough for this?
After another futile attempt at sleep, I nudge Fish off my chest and then sit up. I grab my phone off my nightstand, the brightness illuminating my face in the otherwise dark room. Good thing I picked it up—it’s nearly dead, and without an alarm clock, it’s my only defence against sleeping in.
I plug my phone into the charger, and then I fire up my trusty search engine. My latest trivial questions feel like a bad omen as I type my new search terms.College business programs.
I spend some time reading about online courses, and an in-person one at the college in Calderville. The forward momentum feels good at first. Exciting.
When I was in my last year of high school, I didn’t spend hours researching universities and colleges like the other students. I knew exactly what I wanted, and what I wanted was the inn.
I stop in my tracks, thumb hovering over my phone screen. Am I really about to change myself because some guy is trying to flex his business prowess? I never saw anything past high school in my future. Not because I thought I couldn’t do it, but because I didn’twantto.
