Page 18 of The Naughty List

“He’s your uncle!”

I roll my eyes. “He’s my step-uncle. It’s not like we’re related by blood.”

“It’s inappropriate and irresponsible on his part.”

“Grant didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. He’s really good to me and—”

“He’s sweet talking you, Audrey! He doesn’t really care about you. You’re just a naive girl.”

Blood boils under my skin, and I block every single word she’s saying, intent on keeping out her lies so they don’t change any of the happiness or confidence I’m feeling. “No!” I shout, standing up to match her toe to toe. Seeing her eyes widen at my reaction, I soften a bit. “I’m not a naive girl, Mom. For the first time in my life, I know what I want. And I’m not doing this for Grant or for you or for anyone other than myself.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks carefully.

“I’m dropping out of the program.” No matter how much armor I put on, uttering those words to my mom makes me shudder. A fire burns in her eyes, and I know that she will see things her own way, regardless of the truth or how I feel. She will see this as my biggest mistake in life because it’s not the decision she would have made. She’ll see Grant as the one responsible for it. She’s not going to accept it, and I just have to remind myself that’s okay.

“You don’t want to go to law school?” she whispers.

“No. I never did.”

Now, she’s the one sitting. Dropping onto my bed, her gaze stays unfocused on a point in front of her. She doesn’t speak for a while so I continue, figuring I might as well get it all out now.

“Grant wants me to come with him. I can focus on my art and maybe find some classes or a good school? I want to try and make it as an artist, and I know I won’t make as much money as I would as a lawyer, but—”

My mom looks at me, and the tears in her eyes stop my words. She doesn’t look as angry as I expect. My brow furrows as I wait for her to say what’s on her mind before I say more.

“I had a feeling you didn’t want to go to law school, but you never expressed interest in anything else. I always thought you were lost, Audrey.”

“I was lost…” I reply. The heavy weight of emotion rests in my throat making it hard to speak or swallow.

“Yes, but I should have let you find your own way. Instead, I just pushed you to follow my footsteps. I figured that if you didn’t want anything else then that would be the best route for you. I’m...I’m sorry.”

I know how hard that was for her to say. My mother doesn’t admit her mistakes easily and I’m still a little bit in shock. I keep waiting for her to throw in a punchline, but she doesn’t. Instead, she puts her face in her hands.

“I have to tell you, Audrey. This past year has really opened my eyes. Being with Roger, being happy, has changed the way I look at everything. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I don’t quite know how to take it all in. To be honest,” she says, looking at me with tear-soaked lashes as she reaches out to take my hand. “I feel like a new person, and I was so afraid you’d be disappointed in me. I was too harsh on you this weekend, Audrey, but I just didn’t know how to behave anymore.”

She squeezes my hand, and tears spill over my cheeks now. I did not expect any of this. I had no idea that my mom felt so different, and I seriously didn’t realize she was so happy with Roger.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

Before I know it, she has her arms wrapped around me, squeezing me in a tight hug.

“Does this mean you’re not mad about me and Grant?” I ask.

“Oh god, no. I’m furious about that,” she says, but as she pulls away, we both wipe our tears. “And I’m furious about school too, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re your own woman, Audrey. You’re going to make choices I don’t like, but they’re your choices.”

I try to force a small smile. It’s something, and for now, it’s enough.

My mom and I come out of the bedroom a little while later to find Roger sitting at the table, hovering over an empty glass that looked like it had alcohol in it.

Looking up at my mom, he has an expression of pure despair on his face. “I’m so sorry, Mel.”

“Where’s Grant?” I ask, heading straight for the front door.

“He’s in his RV. I told him that maybe he should look for another place to stay tonight.”

“What? It’s Christmas!” Turning toward my mother, I feel my heart start to pound in my ears again. “If he goes—”

“That won’t be necessary,” she says calmly. “Grant can stay out there tonight. As long as you stay inside.”