I Was Told It Would Get Easier(64)

Emily shook her head. “I really doubt it. I don’t enjoy thinking in confinement.”

Helen laughed and clapped her hands. “Excellent, a free thinker.” She smiled at me again. “Well done.”

I shrugged. “She came out that way. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Not true,” said Emily surprisingly. “You raised me to question everything, especially the status quo.”

“I did?” I frowned. “No wonder you won’t do what I tell you to.”

“But that’s the point, I am.” She grinned. “You told me to never blindly accept authority, so I don’t.”

“I probably should have thought that one through a little more,” I said. “Perhaps all that emphasis on independence and self-determination wasn’t the smartest strategy.”

“No, it was,” said Helen, suddenly more serious. “I’m telling you, I see more kids these days who need to be told their next step all the time, it’s incredibly sad. We weren’t like that.” She looked at Emily. “Your mother was the least compliant person I ever met.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean if someone told her she was supposed to do something, she wouldn’t do it, not until she was certain she would have chosen it for herself. It was, I’ll be honest, a tiny bit pathological.”

I frowned. “That is completely untrue.”

“See what I mean? Oppositional.”

“I did everything my coach said. I turned in my work on time. I’m really not sure what you’re referring to.”

“You did what your coach said because you knew it was right, and you turned your work in because you didn’t want to flunk classes. However, if one of us said you should cut bangs, or wear a different jacket, or stop sleeping with that terrible guy you had such a thing with, you wouldn’t do it.”

“Oh my god, not David Millar.” Emily was amused. “We saw him the other night, he was creepy.”

Helen clapped her hands again. “Yes! I had totally forgotten his name. Your mother was obsessed.”

“Oh please, like you didn’t have a semester-long fling with a certain . . .”

“Person who will remain nameless.” Helen grinned. “We all made mistakes, which is what you’re supposed to do in college. I wore Rosie the Riveter overalls all the time also, which was a far bigger crime.” She lowered her voice. “Students these days have less fun, and dress like office managers. It’s really kind of depressing. And it’s not like philosophy majors are going to head off to high-paying philosophy jobs that make it easy for them to pay off their student debt, so when I look out across the lecture hall, it’s hard not to feel like I’m part of the problem.” She smiled. “Of course, then we get into a spirited debate about the nature of reality, and I see their brains lighting up, and I remember why college was invented in the first place.” She shook her head at Emily. “Don’t feel like college is the only way to go, life is much bigger than that.”

I sputtered an interruption. “Hey, I’m having a hard time selling her on college, please don’t make it worse.”

Helen looked seriously at me. “Really, Jess, I’m not joking. It’s not like it was when we went; it’s expensive, it’s hard, it’s much less light-hearted, kids get shot, get assaulted, get bored, and walk out saddled with a level of debt that means they have to strap on a number and enter the rat race right away.” She sighed. “It’s enough to make you yearn for revolution.” She shook her wrist full of bangles, making several men’s heads whip around instinctively.

“So why don’t you quit your job?” Emily asked.

“And abandon them completely?” Helen laughed. “I love my students. I love the way they think, the way they approach centuries-old debates with fresh ideas. I know a lot about philosophy, and people say it’s a pointless subject, but I swear I see human thought changing in front of my eyes every day. In the two decades I’ve been teaching, opinions and attitudes have evolved and altered and swung back and forth, and I have a ringside seat.” Her eyes were gleaming, and she suddenly reached across the table and took Emily’s hand. “Debating the nature of life is part of the human condition, it’s the most beautiful thing.”

There was a pause, then Emily said, “Well, I can see why you got tenure.”

Helen laughed, then said, “Thanks, but don’t forget, I’m spectacularly unqualified for anything else.”





EMILY


Mom’s friend Helen is a trip. I had a teacher like her in elementary school, who made me actually excited at the thought of coming to school every day, who seemed delighted to hear what I had to say. But they’re rare.

I drifted off and thought about Will. When I’d gotten back to the hotel room to get ready for dinner, Mom did the most pathetic job of wanting to know all about my afternoon and at the same time not wanting to ask. It was almost painful to watch, and in the end I’d said I had a good time and left it at that. It would be weird to talk about my romantic life with her, especially as she really doesn’t have one.

While she was in the shower, I’d finally texted Becca. I’d hesitated for an awkward amount of time; it was time to get over myself.