Page 86 of His Sound
“I just...hope you think it’s good news too.”
“Wait.” She sits up straight all of a sudden. “Molly, are you pregnant?”
A nervous laugh shoots out of me. “God, no. No, Mom. I’m not pregnant.”
At least I’ve been able to start this off with some good news.
“I’ve just, uh, been given a new opportunity,” I continue, “and I’ve decided to pursue it. A few months ago, I got a part time job at a record label.”
I glance up from my lap. Mom has a hard look on her face, but she doesn’t interrupt me.
“I know how you feel about me working while I’m at school, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before, but it wasn’t something I could let myself say no to, Mom. The label is just starting up, but it has some very big bands signed to it already, and the owner is one of the most important people in the Montreal music industry. She took a chance on me and gave me a graphic design job even though I had like, no experience, and I...I’ve been good at it. I really have. They’re very happy with me there.”
“Is this why your grades have been slipping, Molly?”
And here we go.
“I know my work-life balance has been off for awhile. I just really love what I do there, and it’s hard to keep focusing on school at the same time, but I got myself back on track in time for exams, and I did a decent job on them.”
Mom raises her eyebrows. “Decent?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I didn’t work as hard as I could. It’s disrespectful to you to not make school my priority when you’re paying for it, but...but you won’t have to pay for it anymore.”
I hear her suck in a breath and force myself to continue.
“The label offered me a full time job. I’ll be the head of their graphic design department. It usually takesyearsto get this kind of a job, Mom. I’m getting handed a career on a silver platter. I couldn’t turn it down. I might not ever get an opportunity like this again.”
“Molly...” Her voice is shaking with what’s probably rage. “Your degree...Your future...”
“Thisismy future,” I urge. “I’ll be making more than enough to support myself in a steady career. I didn’t even have to intern. This is way more than I’d ever get with a sociology degree, and I want it so bad, Mom. I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.”
“What happens—” She pauses to swallow. “What happens if this...labelgoes under? What if you’re out on the sidewalk in a few months? You don’t have graphic design credentials. You said yourself you don’t have any other experience. Is another company really going to hire you if you lose this job? I get that you’re passionate about this, Molly, but you need to be practical. Your father—”
“Dad loves his job,” I interrupt, “and he loves us too. He taught me to be passionate because he knows how important it is, and you taught me to be practical because you know how importantthatis. I’m taking this job forboththose reasons. It’s a solid career, Mom. I’ll make more money at Metro Records than I would even years after finishing my degree, and if it does go under, working for Shayla McDougal means I have one of the most powerful references in the city. I can make this work, and...and Iloveit, Mom. It makes me feel like the old me, like how I was before the divorce...”
It takes me a second to recognize the sound she makes as a sob. She drops her head into her hands as her shoulders begin shaking.
“Mom.”
I reach for her, and she flinches before leaning into my touch.
“I...I just...” she chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”
I do my best to hide my shock. Seeing her like this is as disorienting as watching the floor tilt.
“Mom, it’s okay,” I manage to murmur.
“No. No, it isn’t.”
She cries quietly for a minute before she snuffles and lifts her head, balling her sleeve up in her hand to wipe her cheeks.
“I let you down when your father and I divorced. I let you all down. I don’t regret leaving your dad; it was the right choice, but I went about it all wrong. I was just so scared, Molly. I spent all day looking at the bank statements, calculating and recalculating to somehow come up with enough to make all the payments and still put food on the table. I felt so trapped. I hadn’t worked since before Stephen was born, and even then, all I ever did was wait tables. You can’t support three kids on a waitressing salary. You just can’t. I wasn’t going to raise you on rice and canned ravioli. I wasn’t going to let you be the kind of kids who only got socks on Christmas morning, and I was somadyour father refused to see it that way.”
She slams her fists down on her thighs.
“It’s okay,” I soothe. “I understand.”
“Do you?” She blinks at me like I’m offering her a lifeline. Her hand reaches out to cup my cheek. “I saw you becoming a shell, Molly. I saw you crawling inside yourself to feel safe. I should have been there to help you, instead of spending all my time worrying about the money. You all became such different children after the divorce...”
