I Was Told It Would Get Easier(63)

“Yeah, but maybe they didn’t want to go to a third-tier college. Or maybe they thought their parents would bust their balls. I have a friend whose mother literally grounds her for a month every time she gets less than an A.”

Will frowned. “That’s lame.”

“A hundred percent, but it’s her reality. My mom doesn’t bust me for Bs, but she does expect me to study all evening, every evening, and to ‘give it my best effort.’ If I flunk she tries not to show her disappointment, but she’s an easy read. All the parents at my school are like that, and the teachers know it and remind us all the time of the ‘sacrifices’ our parents are making for us to be there. It’s not a fun time.” I suddenly felt tears in my eyes, which was so embarrassing and unexpected I can’t even tell you. “You have no idea what it’s like, not finding it easy to do the only thing that seems to matter to anyone.”

Will looked away politely. Then, after a pause, he said, “Did you know those girls?”

I continued destroying the grass and nodded.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know they were planning to cheat?”

I shook my head.

“Would you cheat?”

There was a long pause. Then I shook my head again.

He leaned against me, and touched my chin, turning my face. “That’s good,” he said, kissing me. “I think you’re brilliant.”

I could taste a tear on the corner of his lip, but the salt faded quickly. It’s amazing what you can ignore when you need to.





20





JESSICA


Helen was my first roommate at college, and we’ve mostly stayed in touch. She was a philosophy major, and we bonded over our mutual love of argument. She tended to be discursive and curious, whereas I favored facts and irrefutability, which is why she became a professor and I went to law school. I hadn’t seen her in over a decade, and even that last sighting had been a brief overnight when she came to UCLA for a conference. However, Helen is easy to spot.

“Wow,” said Emily, “that’s Helen?”

Helen is six feet two inches tall. At college, she and I developed a drinking game based on how many times men called her an amazon or asked her if she played basketball. (For those of you who have tall friends and want to play, your friend takes a shot for amazon, you take a shot for basketball; it’s a drinking game, not chess.) I thought she was joking at first, but then I saw it in action. It’s like they see a woman over five ten and the word amazon falls out of their mouth, quickly followed by some reference to dunking. A social scientist would probably have a name for it, but we called it unimaginative.

Helen also has very dark skin and cheekbones you could rest a tea tray on, but I was willing to overlook her beauty and focus on the fact that she inexplicably loved me as much as I loved her. We have that friendship where you see each other once a decade and pick up where you left off.

“Is it possible this is the child Emily?” Helen stood to greet us, extending her hands to Emily and causing a man at a table nearby to drop a cherry tomato. “I understand the laws of both biology and time, but surely you’ve grown faster than recommended?”

Emily laughed, as dazzled as everyone always is. “It’s me, I promise.”

Helen clasped her hands for a moment and then smiled at me. “You created a beauty, Jessica Burnstein, no doubt about it.” She turned back to Emily. “Please tell me you want to study philosophy.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

“Maybe you could major in something else and minor in philosophy?”

Emily smiled. “I really don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well then, philosophy is perfect!” She turned to me. “The whole point of it is wondering.” She grinned. “Although your mother always preferred to be definite, it was her only flaw.”

“It still is. She loves to be right.”

I glared at them. “Let me head this off right now, this is not a ‘let’s gang up on Jessica’ dinner.”

“It’s not?” said Emily. “That’s disappointing.”

We ordered and Helen asked Emily the basic questions all adults ask teenagers: where she went to school, what was her favorite subject, did she play any sports, what books she enjoyed, and so on. I realized Emily was right; adults do ask interview questions all the time. But, this being Helen, she moved on pretty quickly to do you believe in God, what is the meaning of existence, and what was Emily’s point of view on the question of free will.

Then the food arrived.



* * *



? ? ?

“So, Jessica, what’s the latest with you? Are you running your firm yet?” Helen was speaking with her mouth full, which was an old habit I was pleased to see she hadn’t grown out of. She needed to say what she had on her mind, and food in her mouth was no good reason to hold off.

I shook my head. “Not yet, and maybe never.” I was obviously not going to mention the Valentina thing while Emily was there. Or the Ostergren thing. Or anything, in fact. Emily seemed stressed enough already. “I love the law part, the managing lawyers part . . . not so much.”

Helen nodded. “And you, Emily? Do you think you’ll take a corporate route through life?”