Reckless

Registration was just around the corner.

 “Not yet,” I sighed.

“Well, I wanted to be the first to break the good news,” my dad said.

“What’s that?” I asked, pretty sure my parents’ idea of good news didn’t match up with mine.

“I noticed in the online schedule of classes that Managerial Accounting is indeed offered Spring Quarter. Isn’t that terrific, Sam?”

Wow, my parents were totally stalking me. I rolled my eyes to myself. They were so not getting me.

“Now you can change your major back and continue with your Accounting classes without falling behind,” Dad said with a smile.

I steeled myself. It was time to put this issue to bed once and for all, even if it killed me. “I’m not changing my major.”

“And why, pray tell, are you not?” my mom asked snidely.

“Because I don’t want to?” I sneered.

“I told you, Bill,” my mom growled, “it’s that Christos. He’s putting all these silly ideas in our daughter’s head.”

“No, Mom,” I said confidently, “if you remember, art was my idea. Remember you guys said I couldn’t go to art school because it was too expensive? Well, SDU isn’t too expensive, and it turns out the university has a great art program. For the same price as an Accounting major.”

“We’re not throwing away good money on an art education!” my mom scoffed.

“I have to agree with your mother on that,” my dad said.

I shook my head. “It’s not throwing away. There’s all kinds of jobs for people in the arts.”

“I’ll bet,” my mom huffed dismissively.

“Mom, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I—“

“Pardon me?” my mom barked.

I tried to calm myself. “Mom, the more I learn about art, the more I see there are jobs out there.”

“If there were so many art jobs, what are you doing working at a convenience store?” Mom sniveled.

“I don’t know, Mom, but it’s not like there were a bunch of accounting jobs for undergraduates either. I scoured the job websites and never found a single one for someone who’s only taken two accounting classes.”

Mom was silent.

“She has a point, Linda,” my dad said.

I was shocked into silence again. That was probably the first time in my life my dad had conceded that I wasn’t an idiot.

“I don’t care what sort of point she has,” Mom growled, “I’m not happy about this whole art thing. And I don’t care what you say, Samantha, it’s this Christos who’s put you up to this. You were never this defiant before he came along. I’m telling you, Bill, this Christos is steering our daughter in all the wrong directions.”

I sighed and wondered if now was the time to tell them that I planned on moving in with Christos, on top of everything else?

Hmmm. Maybe not.

I eyed the END button on my phone.

Maybe I needed to terminate this call before my parents made plans to terminate me.

“That boy has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he, Sam?” my mom said, her words suddenly dripping with foul judgement.

Why did I suddenly feel like guided missiles were pointed at my heart?

“I bet you two are having plenty of sex, aren’t you?” she sneered. “Well, I hope you’re using protection.”

I was shocked into silence. Not because we were discussing sex and birth control. That was nothing new. It was the pure hatred pouring out of my mom’s mouth like a fire hose. Or maybe a sewage hose. I never imagined she could be this harsh.

“I knew he looked reckless the second I saw him with his leather jacket and his tattoos,” she sneered. “Ever since you met that young man, you’ve turned reckless yourself, Samantha. He’s bringing you down to his level, and he’s going to ruin your life. Mark my words,” she said ominously, “whether it’s two weeks or two months, that Christos character is going to lose interest in you. He’ll forget your name in no time, and in a few years, he won’t even remember having slept with you. Then where will you be? Huh? Tell me that.”

“He’s not like that,” I argued, suddenly on the verge of crying, “Christos loves me!” I hated that I was shouting like an irrational teenager, but my mom was always good at clawing my heart.

“Sure he does,” Mom snapped venomously, “that’s what they all say,”

“All?” my dad asked, confused. “All who? Linda, what are you—”

Mom cut Dad off definitively, saying, “I bet your Christos is no better than that Damian,” she hissed.

“You don’t know anything about Christos!!!” I wailed at the phone.

“I may not know him, Sam,” my mom said confidently, “but I’ve known men like him.”

“You have?” my dad asked. “That’s news to me, Linda, I—”

“Shut up, Bill,” my mom barked at him.

Whoa, Mom. I’d never heard her this crazy. She had lost it. “You’re wrong, Mom,” I said through my tears, finding new strength. “Christos asked me to move in with him.”

Mom chuffed out a harsh laugh. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“What?! No!” I protested.

“Not yet you aren’t,” she shouted stridently. “But you will be! Give it six months, maybe a year, and he’ll knock you up! Then he’ll be gone! Just like that! Make sure you have enough saved up for the abortion!”

Mom had gone crazy. Why did I think she was talking about herself all of a sudden? That didn’t seem remotely possible. I couldn’t picture my mom getting knocked up without a business plan in place.

Whatever.

All I knew for sure was that I suddenly felt like I was the parent of a tantrum-throwing infant. Oddly, this gave me a measure of confidence I’d never felt with my mom before. Her heightened irrationality allowed me to remain calm. “I’m using birth control, Mom. I’m being responsible.”

“I knew it!” she cheered. “You’re having sex!”

“So? People have sex all the time. It’s not the end of the world. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, Christos asked me to move into his grandfather’s house.”

“So you’re going to be freeloading?”

“It’s not like that! They’re good people.”

“And we’re not?”

“No, Mom. You don’t understand.” I was getting confused. My mom had pulled herself in and was going for logic. I was on dangerous footing.

“We have supported you your entire life, and you think you can just waltz into some random family and they’ll take care of you like your father and I have?”

I paused to think through my words carefully. I worried I was getting in over my head. But I wasn’t giving up. “Yes.”

“Hah!” my mom blurted. “And pray tell, Sam, why is that?”

“Because Christos loves me,” I reiterated calmly. I knew I was repeating myself, but it was the truth. What more did anyone need to know than that? It was all I needed to know.

Long, loud, laughter erupted from my mom. She went on for at least an entire minute. “You, you think love is going to fix everything, Sam? You think this puppy love crush you have on Christos is going to bring world peace? Heal all of mankind’s ills? I’ve got news for you, Sam, it doesn’t work