My parents knew the truth of our situation, so hopefully there wouldn’t be any embarrassing questions and we could all just enjoy our time together.
They didn’t let my daddy pick me up from the airport, and just had one of the PAs drive me instead. A wave of homesickness hit me hard, and I couldn’t believe how much I had missed being home.
Both my mother and father were waiting for me on the porch, and as soon as the car stopped, I ran to them. “My little Lemonade!” my daddy said as he hugged me tight. “I missed you so!”
“Welcome home, darlin’,” my momma added, when I embraced her next. “Where’s that prince of yours?”
“He should be here soon,” I said. I’d brought an overnight bag, and the PA handed it up to me. I thanked him and he went to join the rest of the crew.
“Like an infestation of termites,” my mother sniffed. “They have taken over every part of the house.” Other parents might have been excited or thrilled to be on television. Not mine. They’d never understood why I liked movies or TV shows, as they thought an evening should be spent entertaining their friends or reading a good book.
Another way I was their black sheep.
Dropping out of beauty pageants my sophomore year had been the first strike against me. It was right after Sterling had broken up with me, I’d lost ballet, and I didn’t want to do pageants anymore. They seemed shallow and heartless and I wanted to do something more meaningful. Or, at least, something I would enjoy. I knew my mother loved bragging to her friends about how well I did. She never said anything to me about it, just got tight-lipped and changed the subject if I brought it up.
Then there was the fact that I hadn’t gone to the University of Georgia, and every generation of my family had matriculated there since it opened its doors in 1801. I went to Brighton University instead, and did not become a Bulldog like everyone expected me to. I still remembered the stricken look on my father’s face when I told him about my college plans.
Then there was the work thing. We all kept trying to win each other over to our points of view, but it wasn’t happening.
The one thing I’d done in the last ten years that had thrilled them was getting engaged to Sterling, which was one of the main reasons I had a hard time imagining calling it off. I didn’t want to disappoint them again.
We went inside, letting the screen door shut behind us. I took my bag up to my childhood room and put it on the bed. I looked around at all the memorabilia, the trophies, the pictures on my bulletin board. What would the sixteen-year-old version of myself have thought of all this? Would she have liked Dante? Would she have wanted me to choose him?
I didn’t know, but I was pretty sure she would have been furious with me for getting engaged to Sterling after the way he broke our heart.
Since I was planning on staying here overnight, once Dante left, I could see my fiancé. That would probably help me get my head on straight and make the decisions that I needed to make. I picked up my old princess phone and dialed his cell.
“Brown.”
“Sterling! I’m in town and I wanted to see you. They’re filming at my parents’ house until about ten o’clock, and then I’m free the rest of the night if you want to come by.” Maybe we could even stay up all night talking the way we had after our first date a few months ago.
He let out a long sigh. “I would love to, but we have a deadline for our complaint tomorrow morning, and I’ll be up all night working on it with some of the other associates.”
Strangely, I didn’t feel as disappointed as I thought I would. My ego was a bit bruised, because shouldn’t he want to spend time with me? But I would live.
“I would love to see you, but you’ll be back soon and we’ll be married and then I’ll be able to see you all the time.”
“But . . .”
He didn’t let me finish. “I have to go. Talk to you soon.” He hung up.
Not even an “I love you” that time. I didn’t know what to make of that.
I ran a brush through my hair, put some more lipstick on, and went downstairs to wait for Dante’s arrival. The show had offered to cater the dinner for us, but my mother wasn’t having it. If there was entertaining to be done, she would make the phone calls herself. “Yankees wouldn’t even know who to call,” she mumbled under her breath as she called Dave’s Barbecue to place an order. I was going to remind her that she was wearing a microphone and they could hear everything she was saying, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. She would have complained out loud either way.