Changing Majors by Ana Hartnett Reichardt

Author:Ana Hartnett Reichardt [Reichardt, Ana Hartnett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781636790824
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2021-12-01T23:10:46+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Right here is perfect,” I tell Alex.

“You got it.” He pulls up to the curb behind the Taylors’ car and parks.

“Thank you so much for the ride.”

“No problem. Text me if you want to ride back together, too. I was thinking of heading back on Saturday.”

I grab my bag out of the trunk, then poke my head through the window. “I was actually hoping to get back on Thursday. Got some things I need to catch up on before classes start again. But I’ll be in touch.”

“Sounds good. Good night, Bailey.”

“Happy Holidays, Alex. Tell your family hello for me.”

He drives away from my house, and I send out thanks to the universe for sending me a quiet church buddy who is disinterested enough to drive me home and not pry during the long trip. I wrap Noelle’s coat tighter against my chest and continue toward the warm glow of our home. Before I even open the door, I feel the music escaping our house any way it can: slipping through the door jamb, rapping on the windows, mating with the glow of candlelight to fall in pools over the lawn. Joy already fills John’s absence. Joy already fills Noelle’s absence. This break won’t be so bad.

I shed my coat in John’s old office. In the darkness, the big leather chairs and oak desk are daunting, and I see my younger self sitting there, sweaty thighs sticking to the leather, accepting punishment with shame and indignance, shame always winning out, but just barely. I follow the light to the kitchen where my mom dances alone in the corner.

“Babygirl.” She’s on me, quick as lightning. Kisses, kisses, kisses pelt my face. Familiar hands squeeze my cheeks. And the only thing keeping me upright through the ardent greeting is our embrace. I feel so warm and loved in her arms. So at home. For everything I’ve been through this year, it’s like I never left.

“Mom, why are you dancing alone in here?”

“Oh, I was just grabbing another bottle of wine, but I got caught in the song.” She points to the ceiling like “Guantanamera” emanates from the house itself. She grabs my hand. “Come on, baby, dance with me.”

I start to shuffle my feet, snap my fingers, and sing along with the few words I know.

“No, no, no. What is this?” She holds my hand away from us to observe my lame attempt at dancing. “You know how to dance, Bails. Little feet, big hips. Little feet, big hips. Little feet. Big hips.” Our hands join, and my little feet, big hips earns a smile and laugh from her. I’ve been so distracted lately that I forgot I missed my family so much.

We walk out to the backyard with another bottle of wine and a fresh bourbon for Mr. Taylor. Cigar smoke hangs in the air in its own atmospheric layer. The flames from the outdoor fireplace guide me through the haze to the stone patio that sits under the pergola, where Mr.

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