Say Yes by Kandi Steiner

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Art of Clarity

The next afternoon, I called home.

Maybe it was something triggered by what Professor Beneventi had said about my future. Maybe it was the absence of Liam and Angela, and the expansive quiet that allowed me to really think about everything I’d been ignoring all summer. Or maybe it was something humming under the surface and urging me to do what I didn’t even realize I needed.

All I knew was that I had to make amends with my parents.

And the hardest part was that they didn’t even know I was upset at all.

“Hello?” my mom answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Harley?” There was a bit of shuffling on the other end, and I imagined her sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder like she always did when she was on the phone and working in the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” I lied. “I just wanted to talk to you. To both of you. Is Dad there?”

“He’s in his office, let me go get him,” she said warily. “Are you sure everything is okay? You can email us, you know. These calls are expensive.”

“I have the money.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain. Get Dad.”

“Okay…”

The phone was muffled before I heard her holler, and then after a minute or so, she and Dad were both on the phone.

And the time was now or never.

“I have to tell you something,” I started. “Several somethings, really. And it’s going to be hard for me to get this all out, so I just need you both to be quiet and let me speak until I’m finished. Okay?”

“You’re scaring us,” Mom said.

“There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We’re listening, pumpkin,” Dad said, and I imagined him holding my mom’s hand, soothing her the way he always did when she got wound up.

I sighed, twirling the phone cord around my finger as I paced the small area it allowed me to. “I won an award,” I started. “It’s a pretty big deal, and I’m going to be featured in the showcase over here. There was also prize money. Five-thousand dollars.”

“Wow!” Mom said at the same time Dad yelled, “That’s my girl!”

I smiled. “Yeah. So, that being said…” I swallowed, throat closing in around the words I’d practiced saying. “I know you guys want me to be an accountant, and I know that would be a much more stable career. But I’m not an accountant. I’m an artist. This is what I love to do. It’s all I know how to do. And I know it might be disappointing to hear, but this is my choice. I want to pursue a career in art. And it’s been weighing on me heavily how this news would disappoint you. I know I can’t change that,” I admitted. “I know you won’t trust that I can do this until I prove it to you. But I need your support, anyway. I need to know you stand behind my choice, even if it’s not the one you wanted me to make.”

“Oh, honey, of course we—” Dad started, but I cut him off.

“Wait, let me finish,” I pleaded. “I also have to confess something.” I closed my eyes, forcing a deep breath. “When you told me the news about the baby, I was… upset.”

“Upset?” Mom asked. “Why ever would—”

“Honey,” Dad said, quieting her.

“I was upset because I know you’ve always wanted a big family, and that I messed that up for you. I know you were scared it would happen again, that you’d have another baby with a hand like mine, or worse, and… it really hurt me, that you waited until I was gone to try. I mean, I know I was never perfect, but it killed me to know I was such a burden that you couldn’t even consider having another child while I was there.” I choked on a sob I didn’t recognize was building, shaking my head against the tears already building and plummeting over my cheeks. “And I was angry,” I confessed. “I was mad at both of you, and mad at the baby, and so hurt. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

My voice faded out as the emotion became too much, and the line was silent for a long while before Dad spoke, his voice level and sure.

“Harley, we never meant to make you feel like we didn’t support your dreams. We do. Always. Were we worried about stability? Of course. But we’re your parents. We’re always going to worry — that doesn’t mean we don’t want you to do what makes you happy. Whatever career or other life choices you make, you have us in your corner.”

I sniffed, nodding, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“And, sweetheart,” he said on a sigh. “God, I wish I could hold you right now, baby girl. I wish I could look you in your eyes when I say that your mother and I never thought you were a burden. Ever.”

“You have been the most beautiful blessing in our life,” Mom chimed in, and I could hear her own tears robbing her of her normally strong voice.

“We didn’t wait to get pregnant after you were gone,” Dad said. “We had been trying for years. For nearly a decade, sweetie. So long that we gave up and stopped trying.”

I blinked, stopping mid-pace to strain my ears as if I hadn’t heard correctly. “I don’t understand.”

“We tried to get pregnant when you were younger,” Mom said. “We did everything short of going through the very expensive process of in vitro fertilization. But for whatever reason, the Good Lord didn’t have it in the cards for us. So, we stopped trying.” She let out a long breath. “Harley, this pregnancy is a miracle, another blessing, just like you were. I mean, I’m forty-four years old for goodness’ sake,” she added with a laugh. “And I’m pregnant.”

I sniffed, wiping my face. “But I heard you,” I said. “When I was younger. I heard you talking in the kitchen about how you wanted a big family like you had when you were younger, but you didn’t know if you’d have more like me.” I paused on another surge of emotion. “Or if you could handle another child like me.”

That made Mom cry harder, and Dad tried to soothe her before drawing in a long breath of his own. “Pumpkin, I’m sorry that you had to hear those things. Your mom and I, we’re your parents. We should always be strong for you, and supportive, and loving and sure. But the truth is that we’re humans, too. We mess up. We struggle. We say things we don’t understand the full consequences of when we’re scared or angry.”

“We were just kids ourselves,” Mom said. “I was your age when I had you.”

That sobered me up, and I blinked several times, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a baby right now.

“And you know what else?” Mom said. “I would have a million babies just like you, if I had the choice. Your small hand has never, ever made you less than. If anything, it has shown me all the ways you’re more. You’re brighter and stronger and more lovely than I could ever hope to be, than anyone I know.”

My bottom lip quaked more and more with every word she said.

“I hope your baby sister has that same light,” she whispered. “I hope she’s just like you, my sweet girl. I love you. So very much.”

“Sister?”

Mom laughed amid her next cry. “Yes. It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” I repeated, and the smile that spread on my lips next was the first sign of joy I’d felt since finding out about my sibling. It was true and genuine, pure and real. “A baby sister.”

“And you’ll be the best big sister in the world,” Mom said.

I blew out a breath, dragging a hand over my face again to wipe away the drying tears. “I feel retched for everything I’ve assumed for so long,” I admitted. “For being so angry and hurt over something that wasn’t even real.”

“It was real,” Dad said. “Everything you have felt, everything you feel now is real. We should have told you when we were trying, but we didn’t want to get your hopes up. And we should have told you more how proud we were of you, how much you light up our lives.” He paused. “There are a thousand ways your mother and I could have been better parents to you, and while we can’t go back in time and do things over, we can start doing better now. Today.”

“I’m so glad you told us what you were feeling,” Mom said.

“Harley, we’re not perfect,” Dad added. “But more than that, we’re sorry we ever made you feel like you had to be.”

Those words nearly broke me again, emotion warping my face as I nodded and held my breath to keep the tears from flowing again. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Now,” Dad said with a clap of his hands. “First, you need to tell us all about this award you won. And second, you need to help us pick a name for your little sister, because your mom is stuck on Nella and all I can think of is salmonella and I need my Harley to help me talk some sense into her.”

I choked on something between a laugh and a cry at that. “I wish I could hug you both so bad right now.”

“Soon,” Mom promised. “Now, the award. Tell us everything.”

And so, I did, and — surprising even to me — I told them about Liam, too. By the time we ended the call, I knew I had an outrageous bill coming, but it was worth every penny for the way my heart and soul was filled to the brim.

For the first time in my life, I was completely open, completely true to everything I was, standing proud on top of a mountain with my chest split open for all the world to see.

I was clean.

And with that cleanse came the most beautiful thing of all.

Clarity.

I was ready to release it all — the need to be perfect I’d held onto my entire life, the pain I’d carried around like a badge of honor hidden under my clothes, the fear of failing, and the pressure to be something I knew I wasn’t.

And Liam.

I saw the summer for everything that it was, everything that it gave me, and I knew it was so much more than what him leaving had taken away.

It was time to step into the next chapter of my life.

And I was itching to write the first page.