Page 172 of All at Once

“Your mom was about to fly to Spain last week,” my dad adds, while we all laugh. As he shuts the door behind us, his eyes grow lighthearted. “We’re proud of you.”

Hearing the words that I seldomly get told will always mean a lot to me.

I give a smile of relief. “Thank you.”

Learning my lesson last time, I wait until after we finish dinner as we’re sitting in the living room to bring everything up. “I met this guy,” I start with a timid smile, “that I really like.”

My dad’s posture immediately tenses up, while my mom says, “Does he live here or in Spain?”

“In Spain,” I reveal, my palms beginning to sweat.

She cautiously asks, “Are you dating?”

“Yeah. We are.” I offer an easy smile, hoping that this doesn’t lead to another argument.

My dad decides to include himself in the conversation only to say, “How are you dating someone who lives that far away?”

“We want to make it work. It’s mutual,” I try to persuade.

His furrowed brows soften as he sighs. “I’m not trying to be unsupportive, but it’s not going to work, Jasmine.” He says it so bluntly, so simply, like it couldn’tnotbe true.

I tilt my head skeptically. “Well it sounds like you are.”

“I wouldn’t trust dating a guy that’s living in another state than you let alone another country,” he says mockingly.

Not liking what he’s indirectly implying, I defend, “You can cheat on someone regardless of how close you live if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“That’s not the only issue,” he argues. “You just met, and you think that establishing the start of your relationship this far away is healthy? It sounds to me that you’refantasizingit to be a relationship.”

It dawns on me how this conversation started just a second ago. How he told me that he wasproudof me. So what happened in the two minutes that have barely passed since then? I’m immediately reminded of Enrique’s frustrated mumbles that night. Where he also shared a similar comment. Feeling as if the people you look up to the most value you, but only temporarily. So fluctuating. Leaving you an anxious mess. And then wondering why you behave the way that you do.

The last part of my father’s comment just now is also so reminiscent from his previous remarks that it leaves me with a sudden sense of déjà vu.

So maybe that’s why itdoesn’t sting like it used to.

“That’s not fair,” I say. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a really good person and is very close to his family. If you meet him, you’ll see what I mean,” I add, knowing how if they met Luca even for a few minutes that they’d agree with this sentiment.

“I’m not denying if he’s a good person or not.” He sighs. “I know you’ve clearly been swept up by his words, but don’t be surprised by how this ends.”

If I had something else to say, there’s no point in even saying it.

He’s only reminding me thatnothingI’ll say willeverchange how he wants to continue thinking like.

And he doesn’t stop. He shakes his head with disappointment, before adding, “There are so many peoplehere. You had to find someone that lives that far away? For a second I thought that this trip made you more mature. But when are you going togrow upJasmine?”

He pauses, his voice growing more exhausted. “When are you going to do things that are morenormal?”

Oh look. His favorite word.

My mom thankfully intervenes as she brushes his shoulder. “Let’s not talk about this right now. There’s so many other things we could discuss.”

I expectedallof this. But I didn’t expect to feel thisindifferent.

I told myself I wasn’t going to hide things from my parents. Now I’ve accepted that I won’t be able to enjoy a lot of things with them. But that’s a decision that they’ve made for us. Not one Ieveragreed upon.

I almost feel bad for them and not in an entitled way.

I don’t know what convinced them to think the way that they do, but now I’m finally learning that it has nothing to do with me. It probablyneverdid. Even when I took it personally all these years.

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