“Why do you read that garbage?” my mother-in-law asked as she took a seat at the small cafe table.

I agreed to meet her here because she insisted on having a ‘good relationship’ with her daughter-in-law. What she really meant was she wanted to take every moment to tell me how to live my life, but that’s family for you. I tapped the book I had been reading with an annoyed finger. On the cover a demon and an angel embraced each other passionately. “It’s not garbage; it’s fun.”

“It’ll rot your brain,” she said as if she spoke from experience. “That looks worse than that show Brandon and you are always watching.”

“Supernatural?”

“That one,” she sipped her coffee and made a face at how hot it was.

I tried not to smile at her pain, and I wondered again why I agreed to be here. I supposed it was because Brandon was always on his best behavior around my parents, and I felt like I owed him. But this was silly. I decided not to tell her that this book was actually far more graphic than the television show she hated on.

“So why do you read it?” she asked again, her tone slightly less judgmental and her eyes insisting that she truly wanted to understand my psychosis.

I held back an eye roll and leaned into my chair instead. I considered changing the subject but bought myself some time by sipping my matcha latte instead. “I suppose I’ve always wanted to be one of them.”

“A demon?” she made a horrified face.

“Well I’m certainly no angel,” I said as a joke, and she cringed further. “But no, I mean more like I’ve always felt so boring and mayonnaise. I’ve never fit in with the cool kids, and if I had supernatural abilities, then at least it would explain why I can’t make friends. Also having wings would be freaking awesome.”

Her lips pulled together and her brows bunched up in what she thought was sympathy. It wasn’t. It was pity: judgmental pity. “I’m so sorry you feel that way. I’m sure people love you, and you’re probably just hanging around the wrong ones.”

I blinked at her, completely at a loss of how to respond to that nicely. She was insulting my life choices and self-esteem with a single thoughtless sentence. It wasn’t her job to fix me, so what did she think she was doing?

“Those books probably make it worse,” she continued in a teacher voice. “The romance is probably completely unrealistic and setting you up for disappointment. You have to be more grounded.”

“What and read like the Bible or something? Didn’t Jesus use magic to turn water into wine and curse fig trees. You’re telling me that’s a grounded romance? Or were you referring to the part where he died for the whole world? You think that’s the kind of relationship I should set myself up for?”

My mother-in-law’s brows creased in disgust and then relaxed as she made a visual effort to calm herself and to restore her smile. “Well, first of all: they’re miracles, dear; and secondly, you don’t have to take that tone with me. I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

And now I’m the bad guy. I took a deep breath and admitted to myself that I had let her get to me and definitely set myself up for that scolding. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you either.” I opened the book, removed my Destiel bookmark, and slid the novel across the table. “You know, you should try reading it before you hate on it so much. You’re probably right. It’s garbage, but I promise you, it’ll make you feel like you’re flying. And since there aren’t many places I can do that without taking drugs or jumping out of an airplane, I’ll take what I can get. You should too. You might be surprised at what you find.”

With that I stood up and walked out. If she wanted to help, she needed to try to understand me and see the world from my perspective first. Starting a conversation by hating on things I liked was not a good way to build my trust, and I didn’t need her condescending vibes in my life. But wouldn’t it be funny if she actually enjoyed the book? Corruption arc, check.

I sighed and crossed my arms to guard against the chilly breeze as I headed to the bus stop and the fortyfive-minute ride home. It was so unfair that we didn’t have wings.