Page 96 of Flirtasaurus
“When will you decide that my choices are worth your respect?” I explode.
“Um. Who are you talking to?” Scott asks.
“All of you! Every single one of you! I like my life! Do you get that? I like my career! And itisa career. It’s not Calliope’s dino thing. It’s happening. It’s real. It’s not a joke.”
“Sweetheart, no one thinks it’s a joke—”
“I’ll have you know that I was just asked to assist my mentor on a massive dinosaur dig in South Dakota this summer. Twenty-two years old and I’ll be out in the field with some of the best minds in science. Yeah! This is a huge freaking deal! Any other family would be proud of a daughter like that, instead of making fun of her, making light of her accomplishments, and calling her ‘mopey Lopey’ all the time. You know why I’m mopey? It’s because you always do this! You don’t even try to understand me! You dismiss me like I’m some weirdo heathen who won’t have any value in your eyes until I get married under the eyes of the Big G and make lots of little religious babies for you all to ooh and aah at. Well, guess what? That’s not happening! I don’t have any desire to give up on my dreams like you all did so I can sit in judgment of the people who actuallyarepursuing something. We call ourselves a family of writers, but that’s such a fucking joke. When was the last time any of you picked up a pen? You all sold out when you found someone you wanted to settle down with, and then you did exactly that… you settled.”
“Easy, kid,” Dad says. “People’s ambitions change, and there isn’t anything wrong with that. Take you, for example. When was the last time you picked up a pen?”
“Callie writes constantly actually. You should know that she has a secret project she’s working on and—”
“Ralph, stop.”
“It’s under a pen name called Tracy Triassic.”
“Ralph?!”
“Yeah, she writes these really fun, dinosaur-themed romances! You’d love them. Check them out when you can because—”
“Ralph! What the hell? Stop!”
Everyone is silent.
My entire family observes me as though I’m that stuffed baby fawn in the Hall of Mammals.
But their faces all project the story thatIhave woundedthemwhen it’s always been the other way around.
Hasn’t it?
“I’m sorry, but… I’m sorry.”
I grab my shoes and backpack and storm out.
“Calliope, it’s your birthday, don’t do this…” I hear my mother’s voice trail off behind me as I slip out the door.
By the time I slam the passenger side of Ralph’s car, I can see him stepping out under the porch light with my parents, shaking my dad’s hand, then… giving my mother a hug. What a buffer. They exchange a few words—I’m guessing about me—and with one more pat on the back from my dad, Ralph starts to walk toward the car.
I close my eyes and try not to cry.
Why do I always end up feeling like the bad guy?
AmI the bad guy?
Ralph gets in on the driver’s side and puts his key in the ignition.
“Heading home?” he asks simply.
“Yes, please.”
“Just a guy from work you boned while on shrooms, huh?”
“I’m sorry about that. That’s not how I wanted to… I have to speak in a certain way with my family, or they feel they can infiltrate and…”
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
I look up, and my parents are standing under the porchlight together, their arms wrapped around each other’s back.
