I can tell she expects this name to mean something to me, but it doesn’t. “Who?” I croak.
“She’s on the admissions committee at Juilliard! Of course this won’t be an official audition, but it’s a perfect opportunity for her to get a sense of you as a performer before you—”
“No,” I say, so panicked that I forget about my fake sore throat. “Mom, you can’t bring her here.”
“Sweetheart, I know it’s scary, but you’re going to be wonderful. And it’s time to start thinking about your future if you want to—”
“You have to call it off,” I say. “I’m serious. If you bring her here for nothing, it’s going to be really embarrassing for all of us.”
“What do you mean? It wouldn’t be for nothing.”
If I tell Mom I’m sick, I can shut this Juilliard thing down and keep my role in Bye Bye Banquo a secret. But even if I do, I’ll be safe for only a few more weeks; once my mom sinks her teeth into an idea, she never lets go. Kristen Viorst will probably show up at our next Family Night to watch me perform, and I’ll have to come up with a whole new set of excuses and lies. The idea of jumping through any more hoops for a career I don’t even want is suddenly too exhausting to bear. It’s time to tell the truth, once and for all.
“Listen,” I say. “This show is really important to me, and I want you and Dad to come. But the role I have isn’t the kind of thing Juilliard would be interested in.”
“Brookie, she knows you’re just part of the ensemble, and she’s still—”
“That’s not it,” I say. “I’ll explain everything when you get here, okay? I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone. Can you trust me on this?”
She must hear the desperation in my voice, because she stops arguing. “Okay,” she says. “I won’t bring her. Are you all right? You’re worrying me.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but I don’t feel fine. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that has started its ascent toward the first dizzying drop, way before I’m ready. Now that I’m strapped in, the only way out is through.
Time always speeds up when you want it to move more slowly, and before I know it, Friday has flown by and it’s time to walk into town and meet my parents for dinner. Before I leave, I do a few affirmations in front of the mirror: The Allerdale company respects me for what I’ve created, and Mom and Dad will, too. Even if I tell them I don’t want to sing anymore, I’ll still be part of the family. But talking into the mirror isn’t the same without Zoe, and I abandon the cause long before I start believing what I’m saying. Tonight is about being honest, and sugarcoating the truth for myself won’t make things any easier.
I get to the bistro early so I’ll have some time to compose myself, but Mom is already there when I arrive. She looks so happy to see me that I wish I could freeze this moment and seal it in a glass jar, so I could take it out and stare at it in the future when nothing is the same between us anymore. I love her fiercely, and I know she loves me back, but sometimes love isn’t enough to mask disappointment.
Mom springs to her feet, throws her arms around me, and rocks me back and forth. “It’s so good to see you,” she says. “It feels like it’s been forever, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I say. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Of course we’re here! We wouldn’t miss our girl’s first performance in Legrand for anything.”
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes—he’s parking the car. Sit down, sit down.”
I do, and Mom settles in across from me and pours me water from the carafe on the table. “Is Zoe on her way?” she asks.
I’ve been so focused on the other conversation I need to have with my parents that I completely forgot that they thought Zoe was joining us tonight. I consider telling my mom my “girlfriend” is busy—at least I could save face in one small way—but it’ll hardly make a difference in light of the huge bomb I’m about to drop on her. I might as well come clean about everything.
“Zoe’s not coming,” I say. “We broke up.”
My mom looks stricken. “Oh no! When did that happen?”
Five days, eighteen hours, and six minutes ago, reports my brain, but my mouth says, “Earlier this week.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Was it because of her boyfriend? I know they have an open relationship, but men can be so possessive.”
“No, it had nothing to do with him. I just…couldn’t do it anymore.”