Fireworks

31

I silently slip away from the group and quickly dry off with a towel on a nearby lounge chair before slipping my tee-shirt on over my head and jogging over to her.

She's still in her work clothes, and I have no idea why she's home so early.

"Hey, mom," I say a little hesitant once I reach her.

She looks me over and purses her lips. "Hadlee, who are these people?"

"They're co-workers of mine. We got let off work early today and since it's so hot I offered to let them come swim. I hope that's alright, I know I probably should have texted." I say in as even a voice I can muster.

She nods once and says, "You should have, not probably should have. But everything seems to be under control, so you're off the hook this once. Next time just let me know in case of an emergency."

That was very reasonable. I nod earnestly and glance behind me. By the way everyone was lightly circled, talking and just listening to music and sipping on bottled water, it really did like a casual business gathering in an outside-of-work setting. I was grateful she hadn't appeared while Cecily and Sarah had been wrestling while balanced on Johan and Ryan's shoulders.

"Have you practiced today? You are aware that your recital is tomorrow, correct?"

I hesitate. "Um, I haven't practiced yet, but I will once everyone leaves."

She gives me a withering glare and says, "Hadlee, when did you start behaving so irresponsibly? I thought you were taking this grant seriously."

"I am," I rush to explain. "I have been taking it very seriously, but I've been nervous for the past couple of days and I've been practicing hard. I thought a small break might be helpful for me so I don't wear myself out for tomorrow. I was planning on doing a few full run-throughs tonight.  Maybe take it easy-"

Distaste takes over her face and she injects, "Do you think Daniel Clarke Bouchard got to where he is by taking it easy? Yo-Yo Ma? Since when have you enjoyed taking it easy, you always insisted that music was something you loved, your father and I never pushed you to do this."

Then why are you pushing now?

"I do love it, I just thought-"

"You thought wrong." she snaps. "I'm not going to watch you waste your potential after all of the hard work you've put into this."

She starts walking inside and I only get the memo I'm supposed to be following her when she stops at the door and snaps at me like I'm a dog.

I give a helpless glance behind me to where everyone's still talking, luckily. I don't think anyone noticed I left until I catch Arlo's eye. He's watching us carefully, but makes no move to indicate what he's thinking. I just look away and hurry after my mother. I have no clue what she wants.

Her heels click as we make our way to the foyer and she points at the piano bench.

And I get it.

I look between my mom and the piano. "Wait, mom, isn't this a little pageant parenty? You've never-"

"Be quiet and sit down. I want to hear the Arabesque. How else am I supposed to trust that you've been practicing as much as you say you have? I mean, if you've been slacking on something you supposedly enjoy, I just can't wait to see your ACT results. Christ knows how much work you actually put in." her tone is controlled, vicious. Her words sting. She knows that I studied for the ACT, she saw my completed practice tests and workbooks. My mom's eyes harden when I continue to stand there, staring at her.