Page 87 of Let's Talk About Love

Takumi wiped the next few tears away with the pad of his thumb. She hadn’t realized they had begun to fall again.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be.” He wrapped his arm around her, tilting their heads together. “I wish I could tell you everything will be okay.”

“I hereby give you permission to lie to me. Just this once.”

“No,” he said, not unkindly. “But I will say it’s probably not as bad as you think it is. I don’t think they disowned you. Cut off? Yeah, probably. Disowned?” He gazed down at her, thoughtful, measuring again. “No. Never. Not even to teach you a lesson.”

“You don’t know my parents.”

“But I know you. If they love you half as much as I’m sure they do,” he said, “you’d be impossible to give up. They’ll come around.”

“Or not.”

Takumi sighed. “No matter how it seems, you’re not the only person to go through something like this. My parents are fine now, but, uh, it was rough there for a while.”

“It? You mean because of your job?”

“They ignore it mostly. They appreciate that I’m happy, but are positive I’d be happier doing something else with my life.”

“But they still talk to you and love you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. It’s still complicated. I don’t like talking about it.”

“Okay. Off the table. What should I do, then? I don’t want to not call them, but what if I do and I’m right? I’m really scared.” An errant hiccup appeared and turned into a sob. “I’ll just go to law school. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. You don’t want to go, so you shouldn’t have to.”

“I told them I would. In six years, but that wasn’t good enough.”

“Why six years?”

“Because law school isn’t going anywhere. I like patterns and prints and organizing and breathing life into spaces because—because why the fuck not? I’m good at it. Why can’t I study in order to begreatat it and get a job that will make me happy? I can always enroll in the school they want later. Why do I have to do the hard things first?”

“It’s supposedly harder to go back when you’re older.”

“Law school is hard now. A six-year delay isn’t going to change that. It’s my life. Not theirs.” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “It’s my life,” she said, almost a whisper. “And I’m expecting them to pay for it because they always have. Great. On top of everything else, I’m a goddamn spoiled brat of a daughter. No wonder they reacted the way they did.”

“That’s a pretty big leap you just made, which for the official record, I’m sure you’re also wrong about that.” He sprinkled sand over her feet. “Side note: I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to hearing you swear. Do it again.”

“Why?”

“Because you only do it when you’re upset and then afterward you start smiling. It’s like a stress reliever for you.”

“No, it’s not.” She looked at him. “I swear all the time.”

“No. You don’t.” He laughed. “You know what you need?”

“A time machine?”

“Or an Epic Wallow Session.”

“No. Not for this. I’d rather think about anything else other than this. I’m not even hungry.”

“That’s worrisome.” She couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not. “What about a weekend away? Forget about everything for a few days and relax. How do you feel about camping?”

“I feel like I’m not going to like it.” She rested her head on his shoulder.