“Well, you certainly have it.”
“And look, it only took twenty two years…”
She sighed. “We’ve decided to talk to the department chair about letting you pick up where you left off during the summer semester. We can do that since you’re so upset about being a part of the campaign.”
“I’m not upset. I honestly don’t care.”
“Of course you do.” She sounded offended. “But if it makes you feel any better, we placed a picture of you and one of your ballets in our campaign brochure.”
“Did you do that so you could look like you actually care about college arts?”
“No, we donated fifty thousand dollars to Duke’s dance program to look like we actually care about college arts. The brochure picture was personal, although it would’ve been even better if you wrote that essay we begged you to write. We could’ve put that next to the picture. ”
I felt a pang in my chest. “When does your flight leave, mother?”
“Excuse me?”
“When does your flight leave?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “I’m pretty sure it’s in three hours or less so you won’t have to spend a full day here, so you can go back and tell Dad that you tried to convince me to come home after you fulfilled your campaign work. I’m sure that’s still all that matters to you.”
She was silent.
“I left Durham because I’ll be living here for at least three years—which is the length of my contract with the company, where I’ll be pursuing my real dream. And I must say, it’s just a bonus that I won’t be anywhere near you.”
She gasped.
“Have a safe flight. Tell Dad I said hello.”
“You’re just going to leave me standing here?”
“You’ve done it to me my entire life.” I left the building. I was too angry, too hurt, to completely focus.
I sent Ashcroft an email—letting him know I was using a sick day, and headed for the street.
“Aubrey!” My mother called from behind, but I kept walking. “Aubrey, wait!”
She finally caught up to me and grabbed my arm. “I can miss my flight…”
“And why would you want to do that?”
“So I can spend time with my daughter before she forgets that I exist…”
I held back tears.
“I can stay here for a few days and we can catch up in between your dance schedule,” she said. “I’ll make your dad fly up too if that’s okay with you?”
“That would be perfectly fine…” I nodded, but then it hit me. “No campaign talk, though.”
“Done deal.”
“No talking about me going back to law school, either.”
“I can live with that, too.” She nodded.
“And no talking shit about ballet.”
She hesitated, but she nodded again. “Okay, fine.” She hugged me. “Can you hail us a cab so I can book a room at the Four Seasons?”
“Why? You can just stay at my place.”