Honey Girl(76)

“Yeah, I know.” Grace wipes her eyes. She went to New York City in the first place because she felt deep in her bones that Yuki saw her. Saw the Grace Porter that was not perfect. The Grace Porter that was lonely and scared. “I let all my fear control me. I wasn’t honest, and I left.”

“You left her behind,” Agnes says.

Grace swallows hard. “Yeah,” she says. “I did. I thought it was the right thing because she didn’t get it, you know? But now, I just want to apologize. I just want to listen. I want to be honest with her about everything.”

“Jesus.” Ximena looks at her with such tender sympathy. “None of that makes you a bad person. You know that, right?”

Grace rolls her eyes. “I’m learning that.” She lets out a long, heaving breath. “Can we not talk about this right now? I don’t want this to be all about me. I’m working on being a better friend.”

“You were already a good friend,” Ximena says softly. “But, fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

Grace lets their voices wash over her. She listens to Agnes complain about Meera some more, how she’s perfect and beautiful and kind and whip smart. Ximena complains about Raj being tight-lipped about the Boston deal.

“He says he’ll only tell us the news once he talks to you first,” she scoffs. “Like, of course Meera knows, but she’s not budging, either. You guys are like a cult.”

Grace smiles, burying herself in her bed. “We’re just close,” she says. She wonders, though, what the news is. She wonders, thinking of a drunk, angry, defeated Raj slumped over a table in Harlem, if any news would be good news. “Meera has been blowing my phone up. I’ll have to chat with them soon. It’s just—”

“A lot?” Ximena guesses.

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “It’s hard. This living in the real-world thing? Facing my problems head-on? A hundred percent don’t recommend.”

Agnes leans over and starts flickering the side table lamp on and off. “Welcome to hell,” she intones somberly.

“Oh, hey,” Grace says, sitting up. “I do have other news. I’m going to officiate Mom’s wedding.”

“No way,” they both say. “We want details,” Ximena says.

Grace loses herself in their rapid-pace conversation. It feels good to connect with them again, to hear their voices, to see their faces. They are just the first in the long line of people Grace has to reconnect with, and the first is always the hardest.

She won’t let the fear and doubt keep her from moving forward.

It only takes her another day or two to call Raj.

“I’m sorry to be calling now,” she says when she hears his sleepy and confused voice. It’s 5 a.m. in Southbury, 2 a.m, in Portland, and she’s given up on sleep. “And I’m sorry that the first time I’m calling you after weeks of silence is because I need advice. You can be angry and yell at me later, but right now—” Grace gathers her nerve “—I just need my big brother for a minute.”

She waits, hating herself for a long moment.

“Okay,” Raj says finally. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?”

She collapses on the front porch steps. “Remember when we were in New York?” she asks. “And you said you were envious of me because I got to choose my dream job, and I was being selfish for leaving just because it got hard?”

“Oh my God,” he says. “I was mad drunk when I said that. I already apologized, and Meera laid into me about it. She even threatened to tell Baba, okay? I didn’t mean it.”

Grace clears her throat. “You had a point,” she says. “I knew the field was going to be difficult to navigate, but I thought if I pushed long enough and hard enough, it would just bend to my will.”

She closes her eyes. “But what if I was right to step away? What if I make my own career, instead of going after the most prestigious job? What if the best job is one that makes me happy and satisfied? Does that make me selfish?”

Raj sighs. “You’ve never been selfish. Stop saying that.”

“I’ve been selfish in more ways than I’m comfortable with,” she presses. “I don’t need you to protect my feelings. I just need you to be straight with me. Would you think less of me?”

She can picture his face. The tightly pressed lips, the annoyed look in his eyes. The way he runs his hands through his hair in frustration until the curls turn into a mess.

“I think,” he says, sounding tired, “since it’s you, and you’re my fucking sister, I want you to do what’s gonna make you feel good. So, what do you think that is, if not going after the most exclusive jobs in academia?”

She feels her shoulders drop in relief. She trusts Raj, she believes Raj, and sometimes she needs his opinion. “I never said I want to leave academia altogether,” she says. “I’ve been told I’d be a good teacher, and I’ve been thinking about it. It would be nice to inspire some students the way I was. I don’t know. They could see me and know that there is room for all of us in astronomy and the stars and galaxies.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do. I think that sounds like a brilliant idea,” he says simply. “Okay?”