We didn’t grow up with a lot of money, and I remember as a kid being wildly jealous of my classmates who wore name-brand clothes. For Christmas one year, I got an Under Armor hoodie from my grandparents, and I wore that thing until it was practically see-through because it was the nicest thing I owned.
Which is why I had such strong ambition when it came to my studies. I was certain that if I got good grades and took all the right college classes, then I could find an amazing job, be rich, happy, and have everything my heart ever desired.
Boy was I so very wrong.
“Hey, Cassie!” my mom, Sheryl, calls out from the front door as I walk up to the wraparound porch.
She opens her arms for a hug, and I sink into her like a warm blanket. My mom and I have similar builds of big chest and curves, but my dark hair and fair complexion come directly from my dad.
“Come on in. Dad just got in from doing chores.” She steps back and holds the door open.
When I walk in, my dad is just finishing washing his hands at the kitchen sink when he turns to me for a hug. “Good to see you, turbo,” my dad, Kurtis, says, squeezing me firmly. He’s called me turbo ever since I got my license. Said I kicked rocks every time I peeled out of our gravel driveway to go to school.
“You’re staying for supper, right?” Mom asks, checking what looks like a pot roast in the oven.
“Yes, definitely,” I reply, sitting down at the table with Dad. “It smells great.”
“How’s the new job?” Dad inquires, his eyes crinkling with the big smile on his face.
“It’s good…the kid is so sweet.”
“Everly is her name, right?” Mom confirms, tossing the potholder on the counter before coming over to join us.
“Yes. She’s eleven, so it’s super easy. Honestly, she can take care of herself mostly, but she’s at that age where she’s not quite old enough to be home alone all summer. So I feel more like a buddy than a nanny.”
“I can see that,” Mom says, her brow furrowing as she watches me. “Does it pay well?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” I answer quickly.
“But it’s only for the summer?”
“Yes.”
“And what will you do after that?” she pries, and I feel a bit like I’m being interviewed for a job instead of reconnecting with my parents.
I shrug noncommittally, not prepared to tell them about the odd call I got from Kate, aka Mercedes, yesterday. I’m still not sure how I feel about that whole idea she pitched me, and until I do, I don’t need my parents’ opinion on the matter.
My mom sighs heavily. “All that education and you’re just…nannying.”
“I’m taking some time, Mom,” I say for the hundredth time.
“While eating away at your savings,” she replies quickly. “Your student loans are going to dry up your pot pretty quick, and then what will you do?”
“Sheryl…” my dad warns.
“Kurtis, she needs to hear this,” Mom snaps, turning her gaze from me to him. “It’s been seven months now. She’s healthy, and she needs to find a real job to make some real money.”
“Mom, I’m fully aware of my financial status,” I respond tersely, my anxiety bubbling up with every word that comes out of her mouth. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”
“That’s impossible,” she says. “I will worry about you and Rebecca until I’m cold in the ground. That’s what parents do forever. Your age has nothing to do with it.” She inhales a deep breath and presses her fist to her lips. “Mothers worry, Cassie. Especially after one gets a call like I did last year that her young, healthy, seemingly thriving daughter was in the hospital.”
My eyes sting at the tormented look on her face. I hate that my mom had to get that call, and I hate that I didn’t see the signs to prevent myself from getting to that level.
I slide my hand across the table to hold hers. “Mom, I’m figuring out my next step, all right? This isn’t forever. It’s just for now. But I’m okay, I promise.” I lean my head down to capture her eyes with mine. “Look at me. Don’t I look happy?”
“You do.” The corner of her mouth quirks up into a soft smile as she reaches out to stroke my face. “Like the old Cozy Cassie. You even look like you’ve gotten some sun this summer.”
I smile, grateful the conversation is calming down. “Well, Max has a pool.”
“Who is Max?” Dad asks curiously.