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Luce cackles. “Leave her alone, you two. She’s…” She trails off when I shoot her a warning look. “… too good for you.”
After hugging Luce goodbye, I get in my car and head toward the familiar neighborhood I grew up in. During the drive, I try to talk myself into ditching the wig and show my family my newly colored hair. I’m twenty-eight and shouldn’t hide something as stupid as this from them. Yet, I can’t talk myself into revealing it.
Gail
The engine of my car sputters to a stop as I pull into the familiar driveway, the crunch of gravel under tires like a nostalgic whisper. The mid-afternoon setting sun bathes the old Victorian house in golden hues, a beacon of memories and simpler times. My childhood home stands unchanged, an inanimate witness to traditions, including our monthly family gathering.
I’m late for what Mom calls ‘linner’. A term she came up with for a meal that’s served too late for lunch, but too early for dinner. Extracting myself from the driver’s seat, I double-check the wig, ensuring not a strand of my Cruella de Vil inspired hair peeks out.
The door swings open before I even reach the porch, and there’s Mom, apron-clad and beaming. “Gail!” she exclaims, her voice carrying the warmth of the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.” I wrap her up in an embrace; her scent of rosemary and lemon is comfort incarnate.
Dad’s bear hug nearly lifts me off my feet next, his chuckle vibrating through me. “There’s my girl.”
“Careful, Dad, or you’ll squeeze the life out of her,” Jamie teases, sauntering over with that mischievous glint in his eyes. He reaches for my hair, probably intending to pull it or ruffle it.
“Ah-ah, hands off,” I warn him, playfully swatting his hand away, laughter bubbling up despite the panic. The last thing I need is for my brother to accidentally pull the wig off me so they all see the streaks of black and white.
“Huh?” Jamie cocks an eyebrow, but he backs off, respecting the boundary I’ve hastily erected.
“Let’s eat before everything gets cold,” Mom ushers us toward the dining room, her voice a soothing melody against the tension knotting my shoulders.
As we settle around the table, glasses clinking and silverware clattering, I’m encased in the cocoon of family. My brother’s animated stories fill the spaces between mouthfuls, and Dad’s hearty laughter punctuates the air.
But beneath the surface, guilt gnaws at me with sharp teeth. Only months ago, my parents knew everything there was to know about me. Now, you could write pages about all the things my family doesn’t know. It makes me feel like an imposter in my childhood home, cloaked in the familiarity of a life I’m doing my best to escape.
“Pass the potatoes, will you, Gail?” Dad’s request yanks me back to the present, and I comply, the weight of the dish somehow grounding. “Thanks.” He smiles widely, oblivious to the storm within me.
“Gail, have you heard your brother might be up for a promotion?” Mom asks, passing the gravy boat.
“Oh, really?” I ask, beaming. “The department must be desperate if they’re going to give Jamie a promotion.” I wink at my brother.
“Right?” he snickers. “I told them that as well. But what can ya do when you’re as awesome as me? It’s a curse, really.”
I sputter my protests, and we quickly get into easy sibling banter. We don’t stop until Dad’s gruff voice slices through the air, squashing the fun. “At least he’s moving up in the world. What about you, my girl? Don’t you want a promotion?”
Dad’s words sound harsh, but I know it’s because he wants the best for me. I just wish he would start believing I’m—or was—happy teaching. I never thirsted for a more glamorous job, I was beyond fine doing what I… well,did.
“It just seems like you’re wasting your life away.”
My head snaps in my dad’s direction. “Can you repeat that?” I ask, sure I didn’t hear him right.
Clearing his throat, he rests his elbows on the table. “You’re almost thirty, Gail. When are you going to get serious about your life?”
I blink in confusion, not understanding where this is coming from. “What makes you think I’m not serious?” I snap. “I have a steady job that makes me happy.”
“Dad,” Jamie barks, sending our father a glare. “Gail’s happy doing what she’s doing. Stop harassing her.”
Our dad grumbles something, but Mom quickly starts talking about her grand plans for the garden this year. “I was thinking of maybe mixing the flowers a bit instead of keeping the colors separate.”
And this is exactly what I mean when I say my family is loving but safe. In my parents’ world, mixing the colors of the flowers is rebellious, imagine if they knew what I do at Cupid’s Court. Or that I’m knocked up by someone whose face I’ve never even seen.
“Sounds like you’ve been busy, though,” I say to Mom, hoping to steer the conversation away from any dangerous shorelines.
“Okay, okay, I can take a hint,” Dad relents. “But will you have enough time to help Lucia with EduSync and also stay on top of your teaching job?”
The day after agreeing to join Luce on this business venture, I called my parents and filled them in on the entire thing… well, the gist of it, anyway. With the small lie that made it sound like a side gig rather than a full-time job. They both like Lucia, so they were excited. But they also wanted to make sure I didn’t quit my day job before EduSync is up and running.
