Page 113 of Missed Notes (Rixon High 5)

“How did you know?”

“Because despite what you might think, Cole, I pay attention. And because your father hasn’t stopped going on about the fact you only just submitted your application.”

“I don’t want Drexel, Mom. I never did. That’s Dad’s dream, not mine.”

Concern flitted across her expression. “You know how he feels about it, though, sweetheart. He won’t pay your tuition if you don’t attend Drexel.”

“Then I’ll get a scholarship or apply for financial aid. Hell, I’ll get a job. I’ll do anything, Mom.”

“You’ve really given this some thought?”

“Yes… no, maybe. I don’t know. I’d always resigned myself to attending Drexel, but always knew that if I wanted to protect—” I stopped myself. But it was too late. Mom’s expression guttered as she pieced together what I’d been about to say.

“Cole, sweetheart, I have never wanted or expected you to make such a big decision because of me. That’s not—”

“Easy for you to say, Mom. You don’t know what it’s like, watching the way he treats you. His total disregard for your feelings.”

“Your father is a complicated man, but he’s a good man. He provides for us; he takes care of us.”

“Mom, please, don’t do that. Don’t sit there and defend him.”

“We made vows, Cole.” She gave me a small, weak smile. And I hated it. I hated that she didn’t want more for herself—for me. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. Vows I intend to live by.”

“Mom, come on. He isn’t a—”

“Enough. I love you, sweetheart.” She reached for my hand, taking it in hers. “I love you so much. But you can’t ask me to break my faith because your father can be a little difficult now and again.”

Difficult? That was the understatement of the fucking century.

“He’ll cut me off if I tell him I’m not going to Drexel.”

She nodded. “He will.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course I’m not okay with it. There’s nothing more I would love than for your father to be a compromising man. But God made him in his image, and we must accept him for who he is.”

Frustration saturated me. It was always the same with her. Excusing his behavior. Rationalizing his actions.

I understood that my mom’s faith guided her perceptions and experience of the world. But there was nothing worse than listening to her talk him up.

There was nothing redeeming about Curtis Kandon. Not a damn thing. And if it wasn’t for mom, I would have walked out of his life a long time ago and never looked back.

“When will you tell him?”

Fuck.

Her words stung.

Because it meant she’d already made her choice—and it wasn’t me.

It never was.

But Sofia was right, I deserved better. I deserved to go after my dreams.

“After the weekend.”

If I told him before the mixer, he would see that as a serious attempt to undermine and embarrass him to his Drexel alumni friends. For as much as I didn’t want to attend, there would be more opportunity for damage control if we went to the mixer than if we didn’t.

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