“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” I warned. “Or that’ll be a bridge you can’t cross back again. I’m serious, Ma.”
“You both just need to calm down,” Dad put in.
She spun on him. “You stay out of it, if you’re not helping.”
“I only saw a jacket and a helmet,” he protested. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Tell her to stop this nonsense.”
My father was trying to play peacemaker. “How can I? Is it fair to judge somebody this fast? How much do you know about him? Maybe a background check...”
Silently I winced. They wouldn’t like Max better when they discovered he’d dropped out and earned his GED. They’d only see it as more proof of his unsuitability, whereas to me it proved how strong and determined he was. I ignored the both of them and got my jacket out of the closet. Worst Hanukkah ever.
My mother’s voice went shrill when she realized I was serious about taking off. “If you walk out now, Courtney, we’re cutting you off.”
I glanced at my dad, wondering if he’d go along with this. He wore an uncomfortable expression, heavy silvery brows knit in a faint frown. “Why don’t you just stay for dinner? We’ll have something nice, talk it out. There’s no reason to be rash.”
“Talk to your wife. I thought she cared about being a good hostess, but I guess her manners depend on how many zeroes are on somebody’s tax return.”
“You can’t talk about your mother that way.”
I shrugged. “I would’ve said she can’t treat people I love that way. Sad. Looks like we’re both wrong, huh?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t like the way you’re acting over this boy, Courtney. You don’t sound rational.”
My brows shut up, as incredulity swamped me. “I’m supposed to sound logical when I’m mad? Nobody sent me that memo. And I’m not staying for dinner. Talk to you later.” I didn’t want to add that last part, but I was trying not to leave them in a dead panic.
“You walking out like this tells me there’s a serious problem,” Dad said soberly.
A sigh escaped me. “I’m clean.”
“We can’t take that chance. I’m not giving you the money to buy whatever you’re on.” Tears trickled down my mother’s cheeks. “This time, you have to get sober on your own.”
I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Whatever. You want my credit cards?”
Pulling out my wallet, I handed them over. “The bank card is mine, you can’t touch what I have in checking. The money in savings from Granddad is mine, too. Otherwise, I’m cut off. I got it.”
“That means no more wire transfers. No more tuition payments. No more rent money.” My dad seemed to think he could make me heel like a bad puppy by reminding me.
“That’s fine. I’m an adult now anyway. I’m sure I can get by. My roommates do.” They didn’t know Max was one of them; that would surely make the situation worse.
As I thought about the payment cutoff dates, I realized they’d probably already paid for my last semester anyway. So I just needed to earn my keep for a few months before looking for a real job or implementing my studio startup plan. The latter was more risky, but in my heart, it was what I wanted to do.
“I don’t think you realize how difficult this will be,” Ma said. “Or what you’re giving up. To me, that’s even more proof that you’re—”
“Maybe I don’t know. But I’ll learn. Obviously I won’t be sending a daily update text anymore. If you’re cutting me loose, that means I’m off the hook. So be sure to tell the Cohens that you’ve given up on me.” I flashed a sweet smile. “I bet your friends will be impressed to hear how well you dish out the tough love on your disappointment of a daughter.” Stepping around my parents, I pushed the elevator button and then handed over the passcard that let into the condo. “I won’t be needing this either, huh?”
My parents stared at me as the doors closed and the elevator jerked, carrying me away. The lobby was deserted when I reached it, apart from the doorman. Not surprising. Max would be long gone. Or maybe he was waiting for me somewhere? Surely he knew I wouldn’t stick around. So I got out my phone as I went out the front doors. Pain pricked me when I saw no new messages. But maybe he’s on the bike. I remembered how he’d left me once in Providence, but he didn’t go far. So maybe...
I sent, I’m so sorry. Where are you?
Outside the wind was bitter cold, ripping through my jacket. I got my hat, scarf and gloves out of my backpack and bundled up. I’d always loved living near the Magnificent Mile, so while I admired the familiar beauty of the city as I walked, waiting for my phone to ping, I was also quaking inwardly. Max seemed pretty angry when he left. At you, not Ma.
A few blocks later, I still had no messages from him and I found myself at the bus stop. Briefly I considered getting a cab, then I shook my head. I’m poor now. I remembered the train and bus schedules from growing up in the city, so I stopped here. Max could contact me if I was on a bus, which seemed smarter than wandering aimlessly in the cold. I still hadn’t heard from him when the 156 arrived, so I got on, planning to head for Union Station.
Out of habit, I put in my earbuds and listened to music while staring out the window. Somebody sat down next to me but I didn’t turn. Instead I just watched the winter cityscape pass by with a heavy heart and a knot in my throat. If the silence went on too much longer, I might cry, though right now I was fighting it. I handled this all wrong, huh? For the first time since I’d said goodbye, I missed Eli’s voice in my head.
My phone was still dead quiet as I hopped off the bus at the Adams & Canal stop. Union Station was only a block away, but I walked slow, hoping I wouldn’t need a ticket—that Max would text or call, giving me a chance to apologize in person. When my cell buzzed just before I went inside, I nearly dropped it. Pausing, I opened up my messages. It was a text from Nadia, wishing me happy holidays. Sighing, I sent back, You, too.
Soon, she replied, I’m going home for Christmas. See you next year!
Union Station was enormous, imposing on the outside, and there were tons of people scurrying, probably trying to get somewhere last-minute for the holidays. I hovered outside, not wanting to admit this was necessary, but my fingers were numb even through my gloves by the time I admitted defeat an hour later and trudged inside. The interior was gorgeous, historical elegance, but I didn’t have the heart to admire anything; it had been years since I’d been here. My mother preferred to fly. The last time—when I was twelve—I’d gone with my dad to Milwaukee for some reason, probably business-related.