The Second Chance Year(45)

My mom looks back and forth between me and Jacob. “What happened to Xavier’s?”

I shrug. “I’m still at Xavier’s. This is a side gig, on my days off.”

“What’s this about Sadie having a second job?” my dad cuts in, finally giving up on whatever computer-y things Owen was talking about.

Jacob repeats what he told my mom.

“Huh,” my dad says, exchanging a glance with my mom that I can’t quite interpret. “And you’re making a solid income there?”

I shrug. “I do okay.” Zoe can’t afford to pay much, but I enjoy hanging out at Higher Grounds and trying new recipes. And it’s all going into my Someday Bakery fund, so I don’t really mind. “Why?”

“I’m wondering if you could consider leaving Xavier’s.”

I study my dad’s face. Where is he going with this? Why would he encourage me to leave a stable job to work for myself? I’ve been talking about opening my own bakery for the past twenty years; is it possible that my parents were really listening? That they might actually be ready to support this dream? “Oh, I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.” I give my parents a smile. “But hopefully someday.”

“Well, play with the numbers,” my dad says. “If this café job is flexible and could cover your rent, this might be an excellent time to think about going back to school. Your mom and I would be willing to help you out with other expenses, and Brooklyn College is actually very affordable.”

I stare at them, speechless. I can’t believe we’re talking about this. After I was fired during my Very Bad Year, my parents kept pushing me to enroll in college classes. And, okay, I hated it, but I kind of understood. I was homeless and living at Jacob’s at the time. I’d told myself that my parents were just looking out for me, encouraging me to have a backup plan. But I have a good job in my field. Why would they be pushing this unless they truly don’t respect my work at all? It shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it always does.

“What are you talking about?” I manage to sputter. “What would I even study at Brooklyn College?”

“There are all sorts of options.” My mom gives me an encouraging smile. “With your outgoing personality, you’d be great at teaching. Or something in sales and marketing, maybe.”

I stare down at the table, shaking my head. How long have they been waiting for an opportunity to spring this on me? When my dad texted me about Brooklyn College during my Very Bad Year, he’d said, This is all for the best. Maybe my parents were secretly glad I’d lost my job because it gave them leverage to push me back to school.

“You could check out the catalog,” my dad chimes in. “See what interests you.”

“Unless the catalog is from Williams Sonoma, I doubt anything will interest me.”

“Well, talk it through with Alex. See what he thinks.”

My head snaps up as resentment rolls over me. “Who cares what Alex thinks?”

My dad sits back in his chair. “I assume you and Alex talk about major life decisions with each other.”

“I’m not going to Brooklyn College. Or any college. There.” I wave my hand in the air. “Major life decision decided. And I’m not going to talk it over with Alex because Alex and I broke up.” It’s a stupid move to blurt it out without thinking, but I get a perverse satisfaction from seeing the shock on my parents’ faces. Across the table, Jacob sits up straighter in his chair.

“You broke up with Alex?” Owen lowers his fork to his plate. “When?”

“Uh, a couple of weeks ago.”

My mom sighs, setting her water glass down on the table with more force than necessary. “Oh, Sadie. What did you do this time?”

“Me? Why do you assume it’s my fault?”

“Because you’re the one who’s always so impulsive. Always making wild declarations and causing scenes.”

“Well, for your information”—I cross my arms over my chest like a petulant teenager, because that’s what being with my parents reduces me to—“you can’t blame this on my big mouth.”

“So, what happened?” my dad demands.

I hesitate. If I tell them what really happened, they will blame my big mouth. They’ll say I should have stayed out of Alex’s work concerns and kept my opinions to myself. And who knows? Maybe they’re right.

“Listen,” Owen cuts in. “Maybe we should talk about this another time, when we’ve all had some time to process it.”

I’m both grateful for my brother and annoyed that he has to step in so our parents will leave me alone. Ever since he got his graduate degree and landed his tech job, they’ve treated him like an adult, asking for his opinion and respecting his boundaries. While I’m still the screwup kid who needs to get her life together.

Sometimes I wonder if that will ever change.

I shove my plate of penne alla vodka to the side, having lost what little appetite I had to begin with. The server comes to remove it, and while she’s reaching between me and my dad, Jacob leans in and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

I just shake my head and look away.

Owen makes a valiant effort to lighten the mood, steering the conversation toward a funny story about a robot accidently driving through a wall at work, and Jacob eggs him on with uncharacteristically booming laughter. I appreciate their efforts, but my dad’s face is as hard as a burned loaf of bread, and my mom keeps sighing and shaking her head like I’ve brought pumpkin pie to a summer party. It would be too much for anyone to overcome.