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It's not like he's my first-ever critic, either. I've had plenty. Friends I thought were friends, random internet trolls, genuine enthusiasts who just simply didn't like the game. Then there's myself, possibly my own worst enemy, at times—shout out to imposter syndrome.
All of that, I can live with, can shake off those doubts and move onto the next day, just fine. But Elias... there's something different about his remark.
First off, he's not someone who's poking fun, teasing, being spiteful, or trying to get under my skin. He's speaking the truth from a business standpoint. That's just who he is.
Secondly—and this is the real punch to the gut—he isn't criticizing the actual content of my game, like the graphics, the efficiency of my code, the server speeds, the user interface design, or anything I can actually improve on. No, he's doubting the entire genre. That cutesy, tower defense mobile games can't hold up in a wide market, and wouldn't prove appealing to the DreamScape audience. A theory that, if true...
Is one tough pill to swallow.
I wish I could confide in my mom about it, without inevitably spiraling into uncomfortable topics that would only be exacerbated with Jeremy sitting across the table. So, as a last resort, I fudge the truth.
I sigh, plastering on a worried expression that proves a bit too easy to fake. "Things are kinda stagnant, which feels a lot like a downhill slide, especially after such a big feature."
"Oh, no. I'm sorry to hear that, sweetie..." Her shoulders sag, clearly not what she was expecting, but she bounces back quickly, like she always does. "I wouldn't look too into it. It's just summer, is all. People are out enjoying the weather. They'll be back inside, playing games, once things get colder."
Wow. I force a nod. That's... something I haven't thought much about. If I wasn't lying, I'd take that insight to heart. "You're probably right," I say.
"Everything happens in due time." Stretching her arm across the table, she places a hand over mine, seeping comfort into me that I genuinely feel, despite keeping secrets. "Your father and I couldn't be more proud of you."
"I know."
"And..." she hesitates, as a darkness I rarely see flickers across her gaze, filled with sorrow but also strength. I know her next words before she speaks them—as I'm sure Jeremy does, too. "And I know Daniel would be too, if he were here to see it."
Silence grows between the three of us. My eyes connect with Jeremy's, his swirling with shadows.
Like my brother, I never quite know how to feel whenever Mom brings up our biological father. It's not like I met the man, and Jeremy could pretty much say the same thing, since he passed away when he was only a one-year-old, while I was still in the womb.
Daniel Lawrence was his name. A car crash is what killed him, Mom said, on his way to a job site. He worked as a carpenter and married our mother, who was his high school sweetheart, when they were both twenty-two. But to Jeremy and I... that's all he really is. A name and a story. A good man we never truly knew, who left this earth in a tragic way.
We lucked out, in a horrible, twisted kind of way, that our mother is by far the most deserving of the Supermom title. She really did it all, filled that gap so well that we didn't even know we had one.
She went to Jeremy's football try-outs, danced with me at the father-daughter dances, chaperoned our class field trips, and even managed to be the loudest cheerleader at our science fairs, all while teaching second grade at our private K-12 school, Riverside Prep on the Upper East Side. Unlike our classmates, the sons and daughters of senators, celebrities and CEOs, Jeremy and I would've never been able to attend, if it weren't for her active participation in the school affairs, granting us free tuition.
Truly, truly, truly, she did it all, and then some.
Years later, she met Raymond "Ray" Brooks, who was a substitute teacher for her class. The two got together when I was nine and Jeremy was ten, then married several years later, after Mom asked for our approval of him. It was an easy choice. We'd already started calling him Dad, as he naturally stepped into the role of our father figure. It wasn't long before we willingly took his last name. To this day, I still remember him breaking down in tears when we said yes.
Today, our dad teaches ninth grade geometry at a local public school, and our mom is still a second grade teacher at Riverside Prep. It's not the norm, having dual teachers for parents, but it does come with a few privileges. Yes, we had to learn the importance of staying frugal, but we also utilized their knowledge of the school system, which undoubtedly aided us throughout our studies and while applying to colleges.
I know Jeremy wouldn't put it any differently, including his appreciation for our mom and her enduring strength, which is why those shadows quickly lift from his gaze as he places a hand on her shoulder. He doesn't say anything, yet a glassy film waters over Mom's eyes as if he did.
I bat away my own emotions. "I know, Mom. I know he'd be proud of me. And he'd be just as proud of you."
She squeezes my hand, hers revealing a slight tremor. Thank you, she mouths, blinking those tears away.
For the rest of our lunch, those lingering doubts found their exit from my headspace, without me even realizing their absence. Although, something else slips through the door those thoughts left wide open. A memory, one that brings me warmth, even when I've tried so desperately to hate the man who repeated the beautiful words I once said to him, back to me.
I think your game is amazing, if that counts for anything...
And what does this man get in return, for days on end? A cold shoulder. Except... even with all my efforts, that coldness thaws, piece by piece, as his words sing their soft melody. Is it enough to put a stop to my silent treatment later today? Probably not. But...
Come tomorrow, I'll have no choice but to talk with Hayden.
And more.
TWENTY-NINE
JULIANA
