Tides of the Heart (Crestwood Chronicles #1)

Chapter 15

All I can do is sit back and let my dark, doom-laden thoughts roam while my dad drones on about stocks, bonds, and dividends, and how the world would be such a better place if more people just saw things his way.

We have that much in common, but the chances of either of us ever seeing things from the other's point of view are about as low as a T-Rex's chance of survival after the asteroid hit.

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"Six classes?" Lana frowns at the printout of my schedule. A few days have passed since my return, and the start of the semester is less than a week away. "Why are you taking a full load? Isn't this your second to last semester? I thought you were done with all this general ed. shit."

"I am." I join her on our threadbare couch, ugly mug of instant coffee in hand. "Two are my final upper division courses; the rest are for fun."

"Fun?" She blinks at me. "How is taking extra classes 'fun?'"

I shrug. "Why not? They sound interesting, and I'll probably never have another opportunity to take random classes in random subjects again. Besides, my dad's paying for it; might as well take advantage."

Lana gives me a wide eyed, 'if you say so, mofo,' sort of look. "Slay, I guess," she says, and sips her homemade instant coffee and oat milk latte. "You won't have much time for your boyfriend, though."

I bite the corner of my bottom lip. Hazel had said almost the same thing. "Yeah, but he'll be busy, too. Apparently, he's still technically a registered student, even though he hasn't taken classes in a year. He switched his major to kinesiology and signed up for classes."

"Wow, his dad must be hyped."

I laugh. "It's not earth sciences, but yeah; I think he's pleasantly surprised."

Warmth infuses my cheeks, and I hide my blush behind my coffee mug. Since our return from the internship, Professor MacDowell had made good on his word and welcomed me like family. I'd been to the modest house he shares with Hazel several times, and on my last visit he'd pulled me aside while Hazel was out of earshot and thanked me for having a good influence on his son.

It was weird, but sweet, and especially touching when he told me he hadn't seen Hazel so focused and happy in a long time.

Meanwhile, he'd transferred me to another faculty adviser to avoid a conflict of interest, but as this actually freed him to help me in a more direct fashion, it worked in my favor. He'd offered to read drafts of my dissertation and point out potential strengths and weaknesses, and to help me locate additional resources; the Pliocene wasn't his personal epoch of interest, but he knew the research community well enough to tell me which books and papers were worth my time.

"What about your dad?" Lana asks, setting her coffee on the side table. "You went home for a week and you haven't said a word about it. What happened?"

I lean back against the cushions with a sigh. "Let's just say I'm glad it's over."

"That bad, huh?"

"I dunno. My parents..." I shrug. "I mean, I guess they love me, but sometimes it feels like my dad regrets not talking my mom into an abortion, and like my mom would see my funeral as a good excuse to wear a nice black dress."

"Charlie!" Lana whacks my arm. "That's awful! And I'm sure it's not true."

"You haven't met my mom and dad. You'd think after not seeing me for six months, they'd take some time out of their schedules to do something special—go out to dinner, at least. Instead, I felt like an unwelcome guest. My mom only talked about her new fad diet, and my dad only talked about money and politics. He thinks the 1950s were the best decade because everyone 'knew their place,' by which he means women, minorities, and the 'the queers.'" I make scare quotes in the air.