A Slip of the Hand

Chapter 57

The tantalizing aroma of garlic and basil wafts out as I eagerly flip open the top of the cardboard pizza box, revealing the gooey expanse of cheese and sauce within. My stomach rumbles in anticipation as I grab a piece and find a cozy spot on the couch. Ellie plops down next to me, her plate filled with an equally delectable slice. Our week has devolved into indulging in takeout comfort food and trashy reality shows.

"Best way to end the week," Ellie declares with a grin, twirling cheese around her fork as she daintily eats her slice. But her smile doesn't quite reach those bright blue eyes of hers.

She's fine. At least, that's the script she adheres to, even though I've known Ellie long enough to read the subtitles of her silences. She wears a practiced facade, snug and familiar like her favorite pair of high-waisted jeans.

My gaze drifts to her phone, which rests face down in front of her on the coffee table. I've seen the screen light up with Johnny's name, heard hushed conversations muffled by the thin walls of our shared space. Yet, I don't press her, knowing she'll talk when she's ready.

"Big day tomorrow, huh?" she asks, pointing her fork at me in an accusatory gesture.

"I guess so!" I respond, trying to push away the heaviness of my thoughts. The night before my birthday—a Saturday birthday, no less—should be filled with anticipation and excitement. And it is, but it's tangled in a knot with other, less celebratory feelings knowing that Ellie is silently hurting.

"Daniel's got something special planned, right?" Ellie prompts, nudging me with her elbow.

My mind races as I contemplate Daniel's mysterious plans. I'd be delighted to spend my birthday with him no matter what, but the thrill of not knowing what to expect heightens my excitement. "I have absolutely no clue what that man has in store for me. All I know is that he's reserved me for most of the day, and I'm invited to stay the night."

"Mad, you're blushing," Ellie teases, swallowing another bite. "Come on, spill! What're you hoping for?"

"Honestly, anything." A grin spreads across my face as I allow my imagination to run wild with possibilities. "Maybe we'll finally have a quiet dinner, just the two of us. Or maybe he'll bring me to some rooftop bar overlooking the city. I'm just excited to... exist with him."

"Sounds wonderful," Ellie sighs, leaning back against the cushions. "I can't wait to hear every juicy detail."

"I'll give you a high-level summary," I tease.

As I take another satisfying bite of cheese and dough, I experience the final few hours of being one year younger, one year less experienced, while enjoying the simple pleasures of life with the best friend a girl could ever want at her side.

***

Soft rays of morning sunlight filter through my sheer curtains and dance across my bedroom floor as I get ready for the big day ahead. Excitement bubbles within me as I peruse my closet, contemplating my options. The mystery of Daniel's surprise has me second-guessing every piece of clothing I own, but I settle on a dark floral sundress paired with a black denim jacket and ankle boots.

My phone buzzes from beneath a pile of discarded options, and my stomach clenches when I see it's Mom calling.

"Hey Mom," I answer, balancing the device between my shoulder and ear as I rifle through my belts.

"Hi honey! Oh, it's nice to hear your voice. It's been so long since you called, Madison!" Mom's voice funnels through the speaker, laced with that familiar mix of over-the-top concern and reproach.

I tug at my dress, smoothing down imagined wrinkles as I continue to scrutinize my reflection in my floor-length mirror. "You know, you can always text or call me, too." The guilty truth is, I've enjoyed communicating less. Each call with Mom is a maze of emotional tripwires, and I haven't really talked to her since back before the concert.

"How's studying for the PCAT going?" she asks.

My reflection shows a furrow in my brow deepening, the corners of my mouth turning downward. She didn't even say 'Happy Birthday' before launching into her interrogation.

"It hasn't been," I respond, a hard edge already creeping into my voice. "I'm not ready to commit to pharmacy school."

"But you have to get into school this year in order to start next year," she responds, completely ignoring the second part of my statement.

"Mom, I'm not going to pharmacy school next year."

"Well, you're taking a year off, right." Her tone is matter-of-fact, making it a statement rather than a question.

With a deep inhale, I search for calm. "I'm taking some time to gain experience and figure out what I want to do next. That's not limited to a year."

In the silence that follows, I can almost hear the cogs turning in her mind, probably calculating where she went wrong with me.

"But don't you want to establish yourself before 30?" she presses.

My nails dig into the rubbery sides of my phone case as my grip tightens. The constant fear of disappointing her has guided far too many decisions in my life. "I'm not even sure I want to go to school, just... I'm figuring this stuff out at my own pace."

"So then, what have you been doing with all of your free time since you're apparently not studying?" she asks, redirecting without even acknowledging the weight of my statement. "You're not seeing someone, are you?"

"Yeah, I am," I admit, almost cursing my honesty because I already know what's coming next.

"Oh! Well, is he a Christian?" Her insistence on bringing her religion, which I've shown exactly no interest in for at least a decade, into every conversation is as predictable as it is exhausting.

My thoughts spin inside my head as I try to come up with a response that won't trigger a lecture. Based on my conversation with Daniel that morning in Johnny's shag shack, I know the answer, and I know it won't be to her liking. But is there a way to soften it? "No, I don't think so," I say, and the phrase answers my thoughts as much as it answers her question.

"Isn't it so much easier to date someone who shares your faith? Like, wouldn't it be fun to have your boyfriend take you to church?"

I press a hand against my forehead in exasperation. "Mom, I'm not really into all of that. Can't we talk about something else?"

"My number-one job as a parent was to guide you spiritually, and I just feel like I failed!" Her voice cracks, and the familiar weight of guilt tries to anchor itself around my heart.

"Mom! Do you even want to hear about what's happening in my life? Or are you just looking for opportunities to tell me what I'm doing wrong?" My words come out harsher than I wanted, but I'm losing the fight against my frustration. I've spent too much of my life sacrificing my happiness while chasing her approval.

My pulse pounds in my temples during the pause that follows.

"Where's all of this coming from?" she finally asks, as if she can't possibly comprehend that I'm a separate human with interests and needs that vary from her own.

I consider letting her know exactly where it's coming from: my unwillingness to go back to living under her scrutiny. But I've already said more to her today than I ever have, and while it's an important first step, I'm not willing to walk into further drama on my birthday of all days. "Actually, I have to go. Bye, Mom!" My finger hits the red icon to end the call before she can protest.

Taking slow, full breaths, I wipe away the smudge of mascara beneath my eyes, refusing to let the conversation with Mom derail my day. It's probably just a coincidence that it's my birthday, but I do somehow feel older, more capable than I did the last time we talked. I'm no longer that little girl who wanted nothing more than to be good enough for her; now, I'm able to find contentment within myself and with those I allow into my life.

People like Ellie and Daniel.

I let the anticipatory excitement of seeing Daniel and finally learning what my surprise is bubble up within me again, and by the time I rush out of the door, I'm back to daydreaming about falling asleep in his arms after a day of whatever he's cooked up.