"I'm coming."
Context. You need context. I guarantee it's not what you think.
See, those are usually good words to hear. The best, right? In fact, nine out of ten times it's exactly the kind of thing you want someone to tell you. And I wish I could say this is one of those times because I guarantee that would be way more interesting than the shit-fest I'm in the middle of.
"We're both coming."
Oh, God. Even better. I may look like a prude but I'll never deny that two is always better than one. The only time it isn't is when you're being chased by a murderer. Also, as long as we're on the topic, I'm pretty sure I'd prefer the murderer right now.
"Ah," I fight the maniacal laughter clawing up my throat. "Coming...why?"
Yeah. There's no justification for that one. Unless the person you're with is either very confused or on a completely different page than you. Then it's just illegal.
"Why," Mom repeats with a scoff. "What kind of child asks why their parents are visiting? If you were brought up in China like me, you'd never have the gall..."
This is where I fade out, like always. Not on purpose. I'm pretty sure it's a defence mechanism at this point. I'm always getting shat on for growing up too westernized and apparently having a white father is no excuse either. I've heard it all anyways. How I'm so lucky I grew up in America and all opportunities were put in my lap. How this country made me spoiled. How I had all the potential in the world to become something and still took it for granted.
"...take it for granted," Mom finishes irritably. Am I good or what?
"I didn't mean it like that," I backtrack tiredly.
You know that bone that keeps you upright and not bent over at the hip? A spine? Great little asset, that one. Too bad I lack it entirely when it comes to my mother. I might as well plaster my horizontally bent body to a blackboard and teach kids math. Hey guys, we call this a right angle! Geometry!
"I don't see how else you could have meant it." I hear scraping noises in the background, like pen to a paper. Of course she's working. Her and dad are always working. I'm no different but because I'm not a lawyer like them, my parents like to believe I don't do any work at all. "Really, Harper, you didn't even learn to lie decently when you were in law school?"
Ouch. I clench my fists tightly at the familiar rush of panic. I know exactly where this is going. First it's about what a disappointment I am, then me giving up being a lawyer, and next will be the questions of why I love fetching lattes and printing schedules for a living.
Disclaimer: my boss doesn't even drink coffee (is it any wonder we call him Satan?) and nobody prints anything anymore. The robots have very obviously taken over.
"Dad's coming too?" I ask, trying to make a mental note of exactly how shitty my life is about to get. My guess is shittier than a newborn or an untrained animal. Whichever is worse.
Mom sighs. "Yes, Harper. Our plans haven't changed in the last thirty seconds."
Oh, God. That means arguments and belittling to my face instead of over the phone. I suck at arguing in person. I burst out crying the second I try to get one word out so let's face it; I had zero shot at being a lawyer. The judge would have barely said "all rise" before I curled up on the floor sobbing and pleading guilty.
"Okay. Sure. Great." I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear, rummaging through my drawer for my notebook. It takes three tries to get hold of it since my hands are shaking better than my ass ever could. "When do you get here and for how long?"
"Next week on the second. We won't be flying back out until the beginning of next month."
Cue instantly choking on thin air. Forget as a lawyer—I might as well curl up on the floor sobbing and pleading guilty right now.
"A whole month?" I wheeze, sounding like the brother I never had.
"Hmm, yes. What's wrong with your voice? Are you on drugs?"
God, I wish. The last time I had drugs was when one of my best friends, Sierra, spontaneously baked a batch of weed brownies on a girl's night. We got high and watched Titanic then promptly threw up when Jack died. I'd emptied my guts and held Sierra's hair as she insisted through her tears that Rose was a murderer who got away with her crimes.
Dani, the third to complete our trio, was face-first in the toilet and defensively screaming at Sierra to shut up because Rose was her bi-awakening. So yeah, drugs right are very clearly the better option here.
Instead I furiously scribble the beginning of my to-do list. It's the only way I can stay calm in any situation that ranges from mediocre to kill me now. Take a wild guess what part of the scale I'm currently teetering on.
"Er...so..." I'm desperately trying to multitask. Between quickly jotting down "flee the country" and searching for my suitcase, I'm barely keeping up with the conversation. "What's the special occasion?"
"Do we really need one? I'd think not seeing our daughter in over a year would be reason enough."
"But...we've gone longer without seeing each other."
"That was before you had a boyfriend. It's been over a year and you've been evading all our attempts to meet him. How are we to know if he's even a respectable man? It's unacceptable."
I freeze. Like, Captain America diving straight for the ocean freeze. Or worse, I forgot to take the chicken out to thaw and my mom is pulling in the driveway freeze. Because there's just one, little, teeny, minor issue here.
I DON'T HAVE A FREAKING BOYFRIEND.
I know what everyone's thinking. Why would my mother want to meet my boyfriend of one year if he doesn't exist? What a silly thing to ask. Is she confused? Does she have Alzheimer's? Did I make him up because I didn't have the guts to kindly tell my mother to shove it where the sun don't shine and leave my dating life alone?
Of course that's what I did. This girl's clinically diagnosed with anxiety for a reason, people.
But what the hell else was I supposed to do? It's bad enough I'm the family disappointment. I'm the only one among my thousands of cousins who didn't go on to become a lawyer or a doctor. Maybe it would be fine if I became a vet or something along those lines but no. I had to hit 'em where it hurts. I went on to become a personal assistant. Dirty work. Poor work. Why would Harper Davis become an assistant of all things when she's tied to a multi-millionaire family? And if she's soooo confident that she made the right choice, shouldn't she be thriving? Thriving and NOT SINGLE?
Well, there was no lying about my career since everyone was glaringly and frustratingly aware of it. I decided to do the next best—technically worst but semantics—thing and lie about my current relationship status. That way I'd be the family disappointment but not the lonely family disappointment. I thought it was genius at the time, okay? Sue me.
"Right," I breathe, losing air dangerously fast. "Boyfriend."
"You really are something, Harper. No pictures, no names, no visits. Your cousins are all speculating that you've made him up. Imagine how embarrassing that is for your father and I."
"So tragic," I mutter absentmindedly. The fact that they were bang on was dirt in the wound and a major pain in my ass.
So now what? In one week my parents will be here and realize that I lied about being in a relationship. I could lie more and say that we broke up but part of the reason I made up my fake boyfriend was so that they'd stop trying to set me up with random men they wanted me to marry.
Being thirty-one and unmarried is like a crime to them. Not so much my dad but my mom has these firm cultural beliefs that I'm dried up and no good and never going to get married because I'm considered too old in the dating world now. According to her I should have been married as soon as I'd completed my studies and that was about seven years ago.
Since the day I graduated law school she's been trying to set me up with random men. A son of her friend from Pilates class. A distant cousin who's rich and well settled back in China. A new hire at their law firm who would fit the family image perfectly. The list goes on. For years I've been listening to their badgering, starting with when I gave up on law just one year into working and how I've doomed myself. My mom especially has made it her personal mission to fix my mistakes because, yes, apparently pursuing my own interests and breaking family traditions are mistakes. Being single was doing nothing except proving her point.
"Well?" She urges after a beat of silence.
I shake my head, forcibly trying to shake free of my thoughts while I'm at it. "Huh?"
"Pardon, Harper. Be civil. And are your cousins right? Have you made your partner up?"
"No."
I definitely said that way too fast and childishly. Mom pauses like she's thinking the exact same thing.
"Alright," she concedes when neither of us says anything else. "See you in one week. I'll send over the details of our new San Francisco property."
They bought a place here too? I circle the shit out of my flee the country bullet point. Then I add five exclamation points for good measure. I pause and make an underline while I'm at it. One more. A third. Now I'm satisfied.
"See ya!" I all but scream and hang up, falling back on my bed and letting my breath rush out of me.
I swallow hard and focus on bringing my heart rate back to normal. My fingers twitch on my command, reminding me that they're there. I watch the ceiling fan turn and turn and hone in on that. Minutes pass until I feel steady enough to sit up again and feel slightly in control of myself again. My pulse is still thundering but I know that'll steady as long as I keep myself distracted.
I reach down for the notebook and pen I dropped and bring them to my lap. Flee the country, as tempting an idea, is not the solution. There's only one thing that I can think of that might actually help the disaster I've created for myself. I write it in my to-do list and stare, wondering how the hell I'm gonna get it done.
Find A Boyfriend.
Because it's that easy, right?
Fuck.
____________________________
SOFT SPOT (featuring Harper Davis and Sawyer James) is now completed and available to read on Wattpad! You can find the official sequel on my page for more.
Thank you and Happy Reading, everyone!