I Was Told It Would Get Easier(70)

She turned to me. “Can we go now?”

“Back to the tour?”

“Back to the hotel at least.”

“Of course.” I stood up. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, my daughter is unable to assist your investigation further.”

“Are you sure?” asked Feld. “You handled this whole thing really well, maybe one day you’ll work in law enforcement. What are you going to study in college?”

I raised my finger. “My client is done answering questions, Mr. Feld. And besides, she doesn’t even know if she wants to go to college.”

“Everyone goes to college,” protested the other agent, who up until then had said little. “It’s fun.”

“Goodbye, gentlemen.” I turned and took Emily’s hand, leading her out of the Starbucks. For once she didn’t let go.

Once we got outside, though, she dropped my hand and stopped.

“You quit?”

Ah.





EMILY


I think Mom was hoping I hadn’t noticed the casual hand grenade she threw out in the coffee shop, but I completely did. Once we left the agents behind I demanded an explanation.

“Well,” she said, “my boss was being a dick about promoting a couple of female associates, so I threatened to quit unless he did the right thing.”

I gazed at her. “You blackmailed your boss?”

She shook her head and frowned at me. “No, I stood up for something that matters.”

“Like I did with the cheating.”

“Exactly.” She smiled a little bit. “I guess we’re more alike than I thought.”

I said, “I think we’re both just more like Grandma, who was a bit of an ass kicker, in the ways she could be.”

“I miss her,” Mom said. “I wish I’d spent more time with her.”

“She was awesome.”

We were walking back to the hotel, and as we drew closer we spotted the group heading out to the bus to go to Bard, the first college of the day. They looked very subdued, but as I was about to call out to Will, Mom tugged me behind a tree.

“Let’s play hooky,” she said. “I had a massive rush of adrenaline on top of a fairly rocky chemical state, and I’m not sure I can do much more than stare into space.”

I was surprised. Mom rarely shows weakness of any kind. “Are you getting sick? Do you want to go back to bed? Are we supposed to check out?”

She peeped around the tree. The group had boarded the bus and it was pulling away. She watched it turn the corner, then headed into the hotel.

“I need a shower, more coffee, and ten minutes to check my email,” she said. “Then I suggest we take part in a time-honored cleansing ritual to reset our emotional equilibrium, reconnect our energies, and center ourselves in the spirit of the Feminine Divine.”

I hurried to catch up with her. “I’m sorry, are you still drunk? What are we doing?”

Mom’s voice floated back. “We’re getting our nails done.”



* * *



? ? ?

Neither Mom nor I are big nail people, which sounds weird. I don’t mean we have giant nails; I mean we don’t care about the nails we have. I don’t seem to have mastered whatever it is you do to stop nail polish from chipping immediately, and Mom once told me that painted nails are a sign of weakness in a male-dominated field. I’m not sure that’s true, and I suspect she said it because she has the same polish-retention issues I do. I imagine imperfect nail polish is definitely a liability when you’re trying to seem invulnerable.

But there was a period in middle school when I’d been trying to fit in, and she’d taken me to get my nails done half a dozen times or so. I remember being petrified the whole time, because I wasn’t sure what to do. Worrying about what to do was a big feature of middle school for me; why does everyone else walk about with complete confidence? Then I met Ruby, and Sienna, and everyone else in my friend group and discovered that (a) no one knows what they’re doing, and that (b) girls are awesome.





JESSICA


We got our nails done because I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less than face the rest of the tour group. Besides, who doesn’t appreciate a hand massage?

I was struggling with the revelation that Emily had taken care of a pretty serious situation without any input from me. I’m not sure why it was surprising me; she’s been doing her laundry, her homework, and her private life without me for a couple of years. But still, this was a whole different level of independence, and I was a little disappointed to discover I felt left out. I would have helped her.

I also felt bad that I hadn’t told her about my work situation right away. She could clearly handle more than I’d given her credit for, and I had that “missed a step in the dark” feeling I really didn’t want to get used to.

The nail salon was the best Rhinebeck had to offer, which was actually pretty fancy, and as we sat side by side with our feet in bowls of water with marbles (who came up with the marbles? I mean, yes, I get it, it’s fun and distracting, but still, yet another unsung hero), we started chatting like we used to when side by side in the car.

“Do you think you’ll actually have to quit?” Emily didn’t seem all that fazed by this idea.