Page 69 of Intermission
That’s it, then. After shooting a quick, silent plea toward my brother, I rise and do as commanded. As I make for the stairs, each breath seems to suck the atmosphere further into a black hole.
“Faith has a good head on her shoulders.” Ryan’s angry voice breaks the thick silence. “Why are you so much harder on her than you were on me and Gretchen?”
Go, Ryan!Out of sight, I pause on the stairs. I’ve never heard anyone speak to my mother in that tone.
“Every child is different. Faith isn’t like you or Gretchen. Faith is... sometimes I don’t even know where she came from.”
Gee, thanks, Mom.
“But then I remember exactly where her artistic, dramatic, musician tendencies come from, and I refuse to let her travel that destructive path.”
“Faith is not Aunt Becca.”
My hands clench into fists. I hate it when Mom compares me to her sister.
My mother loves structure and predictability. She adores columns and numbers that add up to an expected outcome—and she prefers it when the people around her behave that way as well. Her sister is exactly the opposite. A free spirit who thrives on chaos—most of which she creates with her own questionable life choices—Aunt Becca is, in a word,fun. She’s really easy to like... but it’s not quite as easy to respect her. We see her rarely, even less since she and her struggling band of middle-aged alternative rockers moved from Chicago to Denver—a move that came soon after the legalization of marijuana in Colorado.
“The tendencies are there, Ryan,” Mom continues. “If my parents had set clearer expectations and had been firmer with Becca, she might actually be a productive member of society now.”
“Maybe you should start paddling Faith with a big ol’ King James Bible, then. Isn’t that how Grandpa Hoffman punished Becca for her godless ways?”
“I am not like my parents, especially in that regard, and you well know it.”
Not like your parents? That makes two of us.
“And that’s another thing,” Mom says, sounding exasperated. “This Noah character, he’s too religious. I mean, his parents are missionaries off in Africa, or some crazy thing.”
“I believe he said Eastern Europe. But why does it matter?”
“It’s not normal. And you know what they say about preachers’ kids. Wild. Morally rebellious. Do you really want your baby sister dating the son of a preacher?”
“Wow, Mom. I had no idea you bought into so many stereotypes. Shouldn’t we want Faith to be with someone with high moral standards?”
“There are high moral standards... and then there are people who only give lip service to their high moral standards.”
“True, but Noah doesn’t strike me as that type. He’s genuine. Solid.”
“Did you know that Faith has started going to Bible studies at that Fellowship Community Church?”
“She mentioned it.”
“Those people are fanatics. I’ve heard they put their hands in the air when they sing.”
“So does Beyoncé. What’s your point?”
I can only imagine the deadly scowl Mom must be giving Ryan in the pause before she says, “Youknowwhat I mean.”
“Unfortunately. But what I also know is that you’re setting impossible and unfair standards for Faith that you didn’t place on me or Gretchen. Faith’s a good kid, Mom. Trust her enough to loosen the cord and let her grow up.”
“When you’ve raised three children, Ryan, I’ll consider asking you for parenting advice. Until then, you would do well to keep it to yourself. And if I find out you’ve encouraged Faith to disobey me, I’ll...”
The threat hangs in the air.
Until Ryan laughs.
Oh, crap.I cringe. Laughing at Mom while she’s in this state of mind isn’t going to help my cause.
“You’ll what, Mom?” He laughs again. “Ground me?”
