She frowns, picking up another sweater. “But we were going to take you to dinner.”
I bite my lip. I hate disappointing my parents. I feel like I always have. I’m not a brainiac like my brother. I don’t excel in school and at everything I touch. The only things I’ve ever been good at are horseback riding and reading. Neither of which is going to help me when it comes to my own path in life. Granted, my family owns luxury hotels all over the world, so money is never an issue, but I don’t want to be dependent on my parents for the rest of my life.
That was the whole point of this—college, living away from home. But even now my parents don’t want to cut the umbilical cord.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I sigh. “We can do dinner, Mom.”
I know I should be grateful for parents that care, and I am, but sometimes I want them to look at me and see the adult I’ve become and understand I don’t need their constant hovering.
Deciding not to fight this battle today, I help my mom unpack while Dad takes phone calls and chats with my roommates. Bless them for entertaining him.
“Are you sure you want all these lights? It might be a bit much.” My mom asks, helping me hang up the curtain fairy lights that will be across the entire wall.
“I’m sure.”
“I do quite like all the plants. Don’t forget to water them.” She looks around at the various plants I’ve placed around my room—on the desk, bookcase, my dresser.
“I won’t forget.”
With the lights up, one of the last things we needed to do, we step back and assess the space.
There’s a fluffy white rug covering the floor, plush enough to sink your toes into. My bed is elevated, allowing for storage underneath. I’ve used it for my surplus of paperback books. The bedspread is the same as last year—white with tiny flower detailing—and blanket draped on the end because I like to wrap myself in one like a burrito.
On my desk is my laptop, a lamp, and more books. My closet houses the obvious—clothes—and other miscellaneous things. In the corner of the room is a basket filled with more blankets and a fluffy chair I can sink into when I want to get lost in a novel.
It’s a small room, but it’s mine.
“It’s … cozy.” My mom has to search for her choice of word. I know this isn’t her taste at all. She opts for a more glam style—lots of white, marble, and gold.
“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m not sure it’s a compliment. Over the years I’ve learned the proper things to say in situations, and now it’s automatic to respond the way others expect.
She gives a smile, then squeezes me into a hug. “We’re so proud of you, Ophelia.”
I’m slow to hug her back, sometimes not entirely comfortable with these nuances that seem natural to others.
Releasing me, she pats my cheek and heads from the room, leaving me alone for a blissful moment.
I inhale a breath, letting it fill my lungs before I let it out slowly.
“Do you ladies want to join us for dinner?” Dad asks my roommates.
They both look to me, not wanting to step on any toes. I give a tiny shrug. I don’t care, so I leave it up to them.
“That would be great, Mr. Hastings,” Li replies. “We appreciate the offer.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Aw, ladies, I told you to call me John.”
“And Alice for me. Don’t make us feel older than we already are,” my mom giggles.
“What do you want to eat?” Dad lobbies the question at me.
I loathe being put on the spot, so I blurt out the first thing I think of. “Pizza.”
We end up at a pizza parlor near campus—the kind with the red and white checkered tablecloths and traditional choices, none of the weird fancy pizzas you might find at a place my parents would choose.
Li and Kenna sit on one side of the booth, with me stuffed on the other side between my parents.
I pick at my Hawaiian, my appetite lacking.
“Ophelia,” my mom nudges me with her elbow, “are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” I fake a smile.
More like bothered by the ridiculously loud music and cacophony of a million conversations going on.
I force myself to eat so my mom won’t worry so much. I can’t afford to give her any excuse to decide that I’m better off doing my studies at home. I need to be out on my own, to grow and thrive. It’s hard to do that when you’re constantly suffocated with someone else’s worry.
After we finish with dinner, my dad insists we grab ice cream from a place across the street.
“I’m so sorry about this,” I mumble to Kenna as she looks over the choices.
She gives me a funny look. “Don’t be sorry. Your parents are sweet.”
“Oh.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Okay, that’s … great. Cool.”
Kenna laughs, nudging me with her elbow. “Loosen up, Ophelia.”
We place our orders and I wait patiently, but excitedly, for my chocolate with rainbow sprinkles in a waffle cone. I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow my love of rainbow sprinkles. They make everything better.
Sitting outside at a table, we enjoy our ice cream while my dad regales my roommates with stories of our family. He wasn’t this enthusiastic last year, but I think both of them were sick with worry about leaving me. This time they’re still not thrilled, but they do feel better about it.
I lick happily at my ice cream, deciding it wasn’t such a bad idea to get dessert.
“How are you girls feeling about your junior year?” My dad asks, mixing chocolate chips around in his strawberry ice cream.
“I’m happy to get to focus on my major,” Li responds. “It feels like I’m finally going to do what I came here for.”
“It’s a step closer to graduating.” Kenna shrugs, more focused on her ice cream than my dad’s questioning.
“Hmm,” he hums, nodding. “I remember when I was your age—”
“John,” my mom laughs, tipping her head in my direction. “Don’t embarrass Ophelia with any more of your stories.”
Dad chuckles, setting his cup on the table. “All right, all right. But what about the time—
”
“John.”
After hugging my parents goodbye, I say goodnight to my roommates and shut myself in my room. I close my eyes, savoring the blissful quiet that washes over me. This evening has been over stimulating to say the least.
Changing out of my clothes into a pair of sleep shorts with sheep jumping over clouds and an oversized t-shirt I stole from my best friend Logan during high school, I pick out a book to read.
Climbing into bed, I burrow beneath the covers and read with only the glow of my fairy lights. Calmness settles over me and my body relaxes, finally at peace after the chaotic day of moving back into the dorms. Flipping to the first page, I start to read, fully planning to stop after a few chapters.
But the next thing I know, I’ve finished the book, and it’s three in the morning.
Setting the finished book aside, I pull my covers beneath my chin and hope for a few hours of sleep. At least class doesn’t start for a few more days.