The next morning, I was on the landing outside my room when I heard her voice drifting up from the kitchen.
She was on the phone. Speaker. Of course.
“I’m telling you, Mark,” she said, her tone sharp and urgent, “you have to do something about this. Your daughter is being unreasonable. She’s tearing this family apart.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do, Tracy,” my dad’s voice replied, sounding worn. “The house is in her name. That’s… that’s the law.”
“You could at least talk to her about college,” Tracy said. “Remember those out-of-state schools she applied to? You could encourage her. Tell her it would be ‘good for her independence.’”
I leaned against the wall, blood turning to ice.
We’d had conversations about my college options months ago. I’d applied to a few state schools, some farther away, some nearby. We’d talked about me maybe moving out someday when I could afford it, when it made sense.
Apparently Tracy had her own schedule.
Mark hesitated.
“I don’t know…”