P.S.: You're My Mate

P.S.: You're My Mate Chp 13

I'm so so so so so so sorryyyy!!! I know that having WB isn't an excuse but still... 

"So, when did you plan on telling us?"

My first thought was, damn it! What did I do this time?

I paused, and turned away from the living room, facing the kitchen, where my parents stood, looking at me, expecting an answer.

"Excuse me?" I couldn't start defending my self without even knowing what I was being accused of. Every conversation with my parents made me feel like I was in a trial.

"This," my dad said, lifting something up in his hand, "when were you going to tell us?"

Just then I realized what it was, it was my acceptance letter. To this situation, there was no right or wrong answer, you had to wing it.

"I didn't think I was going to tell, because I didn't know I'd get in"

"Well you did, so I ask again, when were you going to tell us?"

"How could I have possibly told you, if I didn't know I got in? if I wasn't accepted I felt no need to tell you, did I?"

I had beat them at their own game, and they knew it. As much as I wanted to celebrate the fact that I had gotten into college, my parents weren't done with me yet.

I have never been dependent from my parents, or close to them, that's what my aunt Claire was for. But she was at other side of the world, so I couldn't really talk to her right now, could I?

"You're not going"

"Why?"

"We're not paying for it" like I didn't know that already.

"That's your reason? We both know that we have enough money to pay for this, I bet we can pay more than double."

"Why do you act like this? Why can you be more like your brother?"

That, my dear friends, was very insulting.

"First of all, Nate? He's in France, finishing a career that you"-my dad-"forced him to study, we all know that he'd rather take cooking classes than be lawyer. Besides, I'm not him; I'm not going to change my mind about something that I want to do for the rest of my life."

I guess you can say that my parents are used to getting what they want, when they want it, my brother, Nate, is used to giving them just that; I, as opposed to my brother, am not.

I am afraid of them, a lot. I remember, that once, one of my friends back home, asked me why I was so afraid of my parents.

That day feels so long ago.

"What do they do? Do they what? Hit you, or something?"

Is that they only reason to be afraid of parents?

"No, no they don't"

"Threaten you? Yell at you?"

"It's not that simple; neither of them yell, or say anything threatening; at least not directly"

"I get it, verbal bullets"

"Exactly"

Sometimes I wish that they'd just scream at me, just say things directly to me, and not making me wonder whether or not what they just said was bad.

My dads' voice broke me out of my daydream.

"Why did you choose NYU? It's across the country."

Well, now it is.