OUTSIDE THE BUILDING that holds the team’s marketing office, I check the time on my phone. There’s a missed call from my parents’ house. I have a few minutes, so I call them back.
“Hi, sweetie,” my mom answers. “We just wanted to wish you luck before the big interview!”
My stomach wobbles. She sounds so hopeful and excited.
“Hold on a second. Ken,” she says, calling to my dad. “Grab the other phone. It’s Pippa.”
A moment later, my dad is on the line. “Hi, honey. Good luck today. We know you’ll do well.”
I force a weak smile, even though they can’t see me. “Thanks.”
“We’re so proud of you,” he says, and I picture his wide smile and bright eyes.
“So proud,” my mom adds. “Once you get this job, everything’s going to fall into place. You just watch.” She sounds so certain. “Within a couple years, you might even be able to afford an apartment outside the city.”
I don’t want to live outside the city. I don’t even want to think about buying an apartment yet.
“You should ask about the benefits,” my dad says. “Ask what retirement options they have.”
“Oh, and ask about orthodontics.”
“Definitely ask about orthodontics,” my dad confirms. “Not all health plans cover them.”
I frown. “I already had braces.”
“Not for you,” my mom says, “for your future children.”
My future children?! I cringe as my mind begins to race. I can barely picture myself at this job in a few years, let alone, like, fifteen. Good lord. This conversation is making things so much worse. I’m going home for Christmas in a few weeks, and I have a feeling this interview will be the main topic for the entire time I’m there.
“I have to go,” I tell them. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”
“Okay, bye, sweetie! Good luck!” my mom chirps.
“Don’t forget to tell them how reliable you are,” my dad says as a goodbye.
I sigh and stare at the door to the building. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have another option.
