Camp Wisahickon

Chapter Thirty Eight

HI I'M SORRY FOR GOING M.I.A BUT HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!!!

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I woke up to the sound of a steaming pot crying from downstairs. The noise was faint from all the way in my room, but I woke up anyway, and rolled out of bed.

I hardly got any sleep last night with Poppy's words weighing heavily on my mind. Not only that, but the acceptance letter from NYU seemed to shake me more than the letter from Juilliard had.

I stumbled out of my room and down the stairs, and as I neared the kitchen, I could hear someone humming from inside. Slowly, I round the corner, and my eyes widen in surprise.

"You made breakfast?" I blurt immediately.

My mom turns around from the stove, where she was currently cooking up another pancake to add to the stack beside her. There were an array of eggs, fruit, toast, bacon, and now, pancakes, sitting on the counter.

The steaming pot of water had been poured into two tea cups and then left on a cooled burner, and a carton of orange juice sat beside it on the counter.

"Good morning to you," She greets me with a small smile.

I smile sheepishly. "Morning."

"Pancakes will be done soon," She tells me. "Sit down and we can chat while we wait."

As I sit down, it dawns on me what she wanted to chat about. I sit down at the island and lean on my elbows to look at the back of her head as she flipped the pancake. "So," I start hesitantly. "Dad is at a hotel?"

Mom twists her body to glance at me and offer a brief smile. "Yes, and I think he'll be staying there for a few days," I raise my eyebrows and she turns back around. "We didn't agree about something."

"What?" I press. "Me not going to Juilliard?"

She turns the stove off and flips the last pancake onto the stack. "Maybe," She turns around. "But that's not your burden to bear."

"Isn't it?" I question further. "It's my decision, after all. I know he thinks that it's his, but it's mine. And I decided not to go."  I let out a discouraged breath as mom studies me for a moment. "Deep down, I thought he might be excited for me. I mean, NYU is an incredible school."

She turns around to make a plate for me, gathering one of everything in the smorgasbord of foods she cooked up. "NYU is an exceptional institution and they're lucky to have you. If your father can't see that, then that's his problem, not yours."

I stared at her back as she said the words, watching her move gracefully around the kitchen. Before I can censor myself, I ask, "What changed?"

My mom stopped and turned around to give me a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"What changed?" I repeat. "You used to be like him, you know. Stuck in the mindset that my ability to play piano was more important than me as a person," I tell her, and watch as a guilty expression casts a shadow over her face. "What happened that changed your mind?"

She takes a few steps closer to the counter and sets the plate down in front of me, but the food was the last thing on my mind. I needed to know.

"Honestly?" She asks hesitantly.

I nod. "Honestly."

"Carter talked to me before I took you home from camp," Mom tells me slowly, her gaze locked on mine. My jaw drops when I hear her words. "After I told him that you should focus on piano, he made me promise to start treating you like my daughter instead of a piano player. It made me realize how much you thought I didn't care about you. And I don't blame you," She says sadly. "I never gave you any reason to believe I did."