Page 86 of Elusion

“We’ve been talking, honey.” Something Carol always says when she’s talked, and Ray failed to disagree. “We think you should attend a school out of state.”

“Think or decided?”

She gives a soft smile. “We strongly suggest.”

My patience for my mother runs out in record time. “What if I strongly suggest I not go to law school at all?”

Dustin chokes on his wine. Honestly, he should refrain from drinking beverages anytime the discussion centers on law school and me. His eyes widen, as he’s more than likely urging me to cease and desist.

“What would you do as an alternative?” Ray asks.

Shit. The plan Dustin mentioned that I never thought about again would come in handy right now.

“I’m working on that.”

Carol shakes her head. “No.”

“Carol,” Ray says, “we can talk about this.”

“No.” She throws her napkin down on her plate. “Jordan will attend law school, and he will do so at a university of our choosing.”

Uh, fuck no.

“So now you not only dictate what I do but where I do it?” I don’t let them answer. “What’s wrong with UPenn? It’s good enough for Dustin.”

“Dustin shows good judgment.”

I scoff. “Wool over the eyes much, Mother?”

“Dude.” Dustin straightens up in his chair.

“Sorry,” I say. I don’t want to set him on fire to save myself.

Ray wipes his mouth, having just finished his cherry torte. “This is a discussion for another time, but I think we would be open to a compromise.”

“There will be no discussion. You will choose an out-of-state school or be on your own next year.” Carol pushes her chair back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go lie down.”

“Perfect.” I toss my napkin on the table to match her dramatics. “Then I’ll be on my own.”

An exasperated sound accompanies Carol’s grand exit. Only now remembering Callie in the room, I glance over. She has set her jaw and won’t look at me. Round one with the overbearing mother ends, only for round two with the irritated girlfriend to begin.

Great.

We all sit quietly for a minute before Dustin and Ray begin discussing a story fromTheNew Yorker. I excuse us, saying I want to show Callie the rest of the house. Ray tells us to join them when we’re finished, and we’ll have that cigar I asked about earlier and a brandy.

I lead Callie out the French doors in the sitting room and across the back lawn.

“Where are we going?”

“My room,” I say, sorting through my keys for the one to the carriage house.

I hit the lights on our way inside. Callie’s eyes dart around, taking in the eclectic mess of High School Jordan. A pile of lacrosse gear still in a corner, a few guitars scattered, a Buddha statue, concert memorabilia, books and books and more books.

When her gaze settles on me, I step toward her. “Why are you mad?”

“Really, I don’t want to get into it here.”

I gesture around to the most private place we have been in together for quite a while. Other than the car or the rare occasions everyone leaves the house or dorm at the same time, someone is always lurking around a corner.

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