Page 102 of Counter Bet

Emily.

I’m mixing colors and humming along to the music playing through my speakers. I fell asleep on the floor last night, which is a first. I think I’m all cried out. My phone is still switched off on my bedside table. I need space. The more I think about last night, the more of a clusterfuck it becomes. I’m angry and sad, but also scared. I’m going to lose what we have no matter what, so why are we allowing ourselves to fall even deeper? What’s the point if it’s only going to hurt even more further down the line?

When I’m happy with my selection of colors, I set to work on my painting. Abstract art, with its explosion of colors, seems like the best fit for me right now. It represents the multitude and complexity of the emotions fighting for space inside of me. There are too many colors and shades to pick apart and make sense of.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

My mom is watching me with a deep crease between her brows.

I reach for the remote and pause the music, smiling shakily. “Hi, mom.”

She wipes away a streak of paint on my cheek before sliding her hand down my arm. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

My eyes sting with unshed tears. Here I thought I had none left. Urgh! I shrug and blink rapidly to stop them from falling. Why do parents have to be so perceptive? I don’t know how to talk to her about this. How do I tell my mom that I have a new boyfriendanda new girlfriend? Let’s not forget that I still haven’t told her about my college application, and the longer I wait to bring it up, the harder it gets.

I feel alone.

“Sweetie, talk to me.” She leads me by my elbow over to the bed. The floral notes of her perfume hang in the air. “I know your dad and I are busy a lot of the time, but I’m always here for you.”

I scoff before I can stop myself, and it takes less than a second for me to regret it. None of this is her fault.

“Where is this coming from, Emily?” she asks, taking my hand in hers.

I brush away a tear. “It’s nothing, mom.” If I’m honest, I want her to leave me alone. I know she means well, but I feel pulled in so many directions. I can’t make sense of my own emotions.

She looks hurt for a moment before she pulls herself together and says, “I get it. I received an interesting phone call from a college that I didn’t know you had applied for.”

My head shoots up.

She smiles softly and squeezes my hand. “I put two and two together. I’ve been waiting for you to come to me.”

Guilt slams into me hard. My throat constricts with emotion.

She sweeps her eyes over the canvases and drawings on my walls. “You’re really talented.”

I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.

“I regret not being more supportive.” She wipes away tears from her eyes before shifting on the bed, so we face each other. “When I spoke to the lady on admission, I realized I don’t really know my own daughter. I assumed you would follow the same path as your dad and I… I should have taken the time to appreciate how talented you are. I never asked you about your dreams.”

I stroke my hand down her arm. “Mom, don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I never spoke up.”

Mom shakes her head. “No, I should have asked you about what it is thatyouwant to do. What your dreams are. I have pushed you down a path that would have made you miserable. I mean, look around you, sweetie.” She gestures to the easel I worked on when she walked in. “You express yourself through your art. I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now, but just by looking at your painting, I can see that you’re in pain. You’re confused. You put into art what you can’t say in words.

As your mom, I should have encouraged that side of you. I’m sorry it took me this long. I wish you felt like you could approach your dad and I about your college application. Trust me, sweetie. We will always support you.”

Relief floods through me. “Thanks, mom.” I spent months worrying about her reaction, thinking she would be disappointed. It didn’t cross my mind that she might be supportive.

She tucks my hair behind my ear. Her touch lingers for a brief moment before she reaches for my hand. “The college rang because they were impressed with your work.”

“What about dad?”

She strokes my cheek. “You know what your dad is like. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

I throw my arms around her, feeling lighter than I have done in a long time. “Thanks, mom!”

She rubs my back. “Don’t forget us when you’re having the time of your life in the sun,” she says but her voice cracks at the end.

I bury my nose in her neck. “Never, mom.”

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