I Was Told It Would Get Easier(55)
My mom raised her eyebrows. “See, you’re good at math!”
I blew my lid, a little. “Mom! School is a full-time job, and I’m supposed to also read, do sports, and have some type of social life at the same time.” I could feel my face getting red, but she was really pissing me off, and I’d been in such a good mood. “I don’t know what the other parents said, but I’m doing my best here and I hate school and everything about it, so the fact that I even go every day is a miracle of courage and you should really be handing out medals and those silver blankets they give out after marathons. I can’t wait to be done, can’t wait to have a choice about where I go every morning, like you do.”
She looked at me for a minute. Then she said, “You think I have a choice? If I don’t go to work every day, we don’t eat. I have clients who expect me to show up in court, I have colleagues who expect me to be ready, I have no choices at all. I have responsibilities, I have expectations to meet, not to mention a child who wants the latest phone.”
That was unfair. My phone is totally over a year old, but I decided not to mention this, as she was getting that look on her face that means she’s actually pissed, not vaguely irritated.
“Plus,” she continued, her voice getting louder, “do you think I pay those extortionate school fees so you can waste time? The whole point of going to that school is so you can go to a good college. You work hard because that’s how you succeed. That’s what life is, hard work and self-improvement.”
I stood up, facing her across the bed. “Why do adults talk such shit about mindfulness and living in the moment, and at the same time point us all in the same direction and tell us to run as fast as we can to get ahead? Do this, you’ll be able to level up to a good high school, do this, you’ll be able to get into a good college where, if you work hard, you’ll be able to get a good job, where you can work harder and get a better job. When are we supposed to start actually living?” I realized my voice has gotten louder, too, but I don’t care. “And if working hard means I get a job like yours, I don’t think I want it. You just told me how stressful and hard it is. If that’s adult freedom, it sucks. You’re going to work until you keel over and die of a stress-related heart attack? What kind of life is that?”
“It’s my life. I live this way so you can have choices.”
“Well, stop then! You chose to have me. I didn’t ask you to work so hard. Maybe I’d rather have a crappier phone and more of you. Will’s family has less money than we do, but they’re much happier.”
Mom was silent for a moment. “You don’t know anything about their family.”
“No, but I know a lot about ours. It’s small, it’s unhappy, and I can’t wait to get out of it.”
And then I went into the bathroom and shut the door, so she couldn’t see how much I regretted everything I just said.
JESSICA
I walked out of the hotel, tipping my head back so I didn’t start crying. Emily and I had a truly terrible argument, which, I’m ashamed to say, I totally started. I could see the words flying out of my mouth, arcing across the room like arrows, knowing they were wrong, and not able to stop myself. It’s like they say, a scared dog is more dangerous than an angry one.
Dani and Chris were sitting outside the hotel on the edge of a fountain, smoking cigarettes. Wait, no, it was only Dani who’s smoking and she was vaping; it’s not 1995. I walked over and joined them.
“Please tell me I’m not the only one who just said regrettable things to their teenager.”
Dani handed me the vape pen. “Have some pot.”
“We’re not in California anymore, Dani, it’s illegal here.”
She regarded me pityingly. “Dude, inhale. The New Jersey police have enough to do without busting middle-aged women for inhaling water vapor.”
I shook my head. “I get randomly drug tested.”
Chris got up and headed into the hotel. “I’ll get you a drink,” he called over his shoulder. “They don’t test for that, which makes no sense.”
I sat there in silence until he returned. He handed me a generous scotch on the rocks and spoke. “I’d like to say I’m here because my son is meditating in our hotel room and wanted silence in order to better access his deep and abiding connection to me, but actually he’s sulking about some kind of raspberry pie, and I had to leave before I walloped him. I didn’t even see it on the menu.”
I took a big swig of scotch and felt it burn down my throat. “I think it’s a kind of mini-computer, rather than an actual pie.”
Chris’s face cleared. “Oh. That makes more sense. He kept saying he could keep it in his pocket, and I kept saying his grandmother wouldn’t like that, and instead of explaining it to me, he yelled.”
Dani exhaled a plume of vapor that twisted and disappeared like the cloud it was. “I asked Alice if she had a good time at dinner, and she bitched at me for ten minutes. The last thing she said was that I have no idea what it’s like to be young, because it’s been so long since I was.” She inhaled again. “She’s not wrong, but she doesn’t have to be such a cow about it.”
I giggled suddenly. “It really is a different world, but they’re mean to us in exactly the same way we were to our parents. It’s not like they’ve come up with new, high-tech material.”