by F N Manning
The line moved forward. “Best of luck to you,” Mrs. Winthrop-Scott said, smiling smugly, and they moved forward while I stood there reeling.
There was a bright side. At least I fucking knew about the drinking problem this time. It wasn’t like Cal dropping that my dad was fired on me. Enough time had passed that all the skeletons hidden in our happy suburban life had surfaced and shattered that lie.
With parents like that, Cal hadn’t turned out so bad. Should I tell him that? I had the opportunity. As soon as they went to take their seats, Cal approached me. “Why were you talking to my parents?” Cal’s frowning face looked so different from the ones his parents made: it was more expressive and less cold and hostile. He’d have to practice if he wanted to make the help cower in their boots like they no doubt could.
“I was being polite.” I had to smile at that, which probably didn’t make it more believable. I couldn’t help it; it was true. That’s what made it so amusing. I was actually the polite one for once. Should I apologize for getting weird on him?
“Is that really something you expect me to believe?” His hand seemed to move unconsciously, positioning itself on his hip. I felt myself smirk and Cal huffed and removed the appendage but still looked exasperated.
“I mean, I definitely attempted to be polite.” I certainly did a better job of it than his parents. Oh well, I was here now. I got over it. Being here to support Brendan or whatever counted as an apology.
“I saw the vein on my dad’s forehead throbbing,” Cal argued lightly. “He was pissed.”
I shrugged. “I’m not very good at politeness.”
“Oh my god,” he huffed. Yeah, he was nothing like his parents. Exasperation just looked so damn cute on him. “You know what? I don’t even care. I’m too nervous for Brendan. Distract me.”
I thought about making an innuendo but that felt too easy and it wasn’t like we’d actually get to do anything fun before the bee. “I thought of a perk of applying to college,” I told Cal instead. I’d visited Princeton. It was… I don’t know. I wasn’t sure it was for me. There’d been a lot of comments I wanted to share with Cal when I went, but it had been when I was avoiding him and I didn’t want to break the silence I’d started by talking about college. It was easier now that we were face to face and I could watch Cal’s face go all offended.
“That you think there’s only one.” Cal paused as if composing himself. “Or that you had to think of it as if the perks aren’t readily apparent.” He shuddered. “All of this is very troubling.”
“You’re just making it better.” I grinned. “If we both get into the Ivies, I will never shut up about how hard you worked and how hard I didn’t. Ever.”
“You applied to the Ivies?”
“Well, the ones here. I mean, they’re here. Why not?” I tried to be casual. I brought it up. I could handle this.
“Why not?” he repeated in disbelief. “You applied to the Ivies because ‘why not?’”
“Oh man, are you going to have a stroke if I get in?” I asked with glee.
“I’ll manage,” he responded dryly.
“Oh man,” I teased. “What if we both go to Princeton? Are there going to be a bunch of other kids like you? Will you be the cool one?”
Attending the same college as Cal was a vaguely terrifying thought for a commitment-phobe like me, but I didn’t dwell on it. There was a lot of this dating stuff I sucked at. I hated serious conversations. I couldn’t apologize. I had a hard time sticking around if things got tough. Providing a distraction, though, I could do that. I thought I’d finally found something I was good at.
Until Cal frowned and look away. “I don’t even want to go to Princeton.”
“Seriously? Didn’t your parents—” Go there, I didn’t finish asking. Cal was already nodding tightly.
“I saw myself going away for college,” he explained. “My parents have other ideas though.”
I bit down snide remarks about him falling in line versus being his own man. Families were complicated. I got that. “Brendan’s here at least,” I commented.
“We’re not as close as you and April.”
“Maybe you would be if you stick around.” I paused and then added, “It’s not like I care.” I said it less to be like a jerk and more to tease him, but he studied me seriously.
“We should probably discuss our fut—"
“Nope, don’t factor me into it,” I interrupted. Talking about our present was too much for me half the time but that wasn’t why I said it. If Cal wasn’t going to live up to his role as the mature one, I could temporarily fill the spot. Making long-term plans based on a high school relationship was stupid.
Privately, I was a bit disappointed. I imagined Cal sticking around here. It seemed kinda silly to start dating him, or anyone in my case, during senior year if there wasn’t at least a possibility, scary as it was, that it could maybe, possibly last. No, that was too much. Shit. It’s just… the presumption in starting a relationship is that both people will be in the same area. Who knew if we’d even make it until college, but I figured we’d both be around to find out.
I could be hurt about it later. The only thing worse than starting some stupidly seriously relationship right when it would end was to go overboard and start planning a future based on this stupid, short relationship.
“Max,” Cal sighed. “You’re obviously a factor—"
“We’re high school boyfriends, Cal.” I shook my head. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. “We’ll figure that part out when it comes.” “Your future is about you. No one else.” I could be the more mature one for once.
He seemed to understand and nodded. We both leaned in like we were going to kiss then we both thought better of it and leaned away at the same time. The conversation and being here at Brendan’s bee when April was out made it tough to feel like were on the same page, on even footing, but our in-sync actions made me smile. Cal smiled back. All things considered, this was a nice moment.
Tell him about it I thought. We’d already had our emotional moment. Or maybe it would be the right time to broach another serious topic? Tell him about dad’s drinking problem. That dad’s not in the picture or that he wasn’t until very recently. Open up. Whatever. It wasn’t the right time. Brendan’s competition was about to start. Yeah, that was a good excuse. I mean reason. I went with it.
misōˈkīnēə or misōˈ-kān-, noun
Hatred of anything new
It was a healthy aversion to death and dismemberment, not misocainea, that made Cal reluctant to ride on Max’s motorcycle.
Chapter 13
M-I-S-O-C-A-I-N-E-A
Cal
God it was his first year. He won his school bee. How could Brendan look so defeated? There was only winning or failing in this family. I never questioned it when it came to me. It was only recently occurring to me that I didn’t want the same to apply to Brendan.
It was his first competition that’s what I told myself. He could try again next year. Eric Wu was older than him anyway, so he’d be done first, and maybe they could tie next year. My parents congratulated Brendan on his efforts in public. It would be different at home. Or no, there’d be pride he won his school bee but that wasn’t all. There would be cold silence, disapproving lectures, talk of how he could have done more. They were happy about his school victory but wanted more. It was never enough. Brendan and I sat on a bench outside my father’s study. He glared down at his shoes.
The ornate, ancient grandfather clock in the hallway ticked on incessantly, each tiny movement the only sound I could hear in the quiet house. Brendan was stiff and pale next to me. He didn’t even look like he was breathing but he didn’t keel over. He curled into himself like he wanted to melt into the wall and disappear.
“Are you okay?” I asked after a few minutes of silent brooding.
He shrugged. “I just want to punch Eric Wu in his stupid face.”
“Violence isn’t the answer,” I scolded
reflexively.
He made a frustrated noise. “I want to punch myself in the face. I’m so stupid.”
“It’s okay, really,” I tried.
“What?” Brendan took his helpless anger and redirected it at me. “Don’t tell me it’s not about whether you win or lose,” he snarled. “I know you don’t believe that.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that. Except, “Well, I believe it for you.”
That didn’t make him feel better. “You think I’m not good enough?” He hunched into himself.
“I don’t realize how… intense I can be until I see you act similarly.” I did realize, but I always thought it would be worth it. That a payoff was coming and all my efforts would be rewarded. Maybe that was still true, but I wasn’t even sure what I was working towards anymore or if that elusive thing was even what I wanted. What I hadn’t realized until recently was how my actions influenced Brendan.
Brendan seemed confident and happy most of the time. I didn’t want him to lose that. “I don’t want you to think you can’t try and fail just because I have trouble applying that to myself.” I turned and spoke directly to Brendan even though he didn’t look back at me. “It’s okay to make mistakes.” Saying that felt vaguely wrong but I didn’t take it back. “You don’t have to be the best at everything. I’m sorry if you don’t believe that because I have a hard time showing it.”
He didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Whatever.” Maybe Brendan just seemed confident and happy because, unfortunately, I didn’t know him very well. He obviously had some insecurities about academics and the bee I hadn’t been aware of. Here I thought we were so different and that was a good thing while he was there comparing us and failing to measure up in his mind. I had experience with never measuring up.
“I used to think our parents attitude was best but,” I spoke quietly, now mostly having this conversation with my hands, “Pushing ourselves... always having to be best no matter what it takes. There comes a point when it’s too much and it makes us ugly.”
I felt Brendan’s eyes on me and raised me head to meet his stare. He looked at me like I was a stranger. “Are you even for real right now?”
That was a good question. “It’s just a theory,” I admitted. Brendan didn’t agree wholeheartedly with my thoughts, but he also didn’t deny or shrug the words off, so I let it go.
I couldn’t force him to accept what I was saying when I could barely comprehend it myself. I only knew I was tired, out of energy, drained. I was so close to the finish line, if the finish line was graduating high school, but then a new race would begin. College. It seemed endless and I had nothing left to give. The pressure from my parents was only part of it. I put so much of it on myself. There had to be a balance between what I needed to do and wanted to do. I’d focused on the former for so long, but Max was helping me consider the latter.
“If they give you a hard time, come to me,” I told Brendan. You can call me if I’m not at home.”
“What are you going to do?” He sounded skeptical, but I saw hope on his face.
“I don’t know.” The defeated look returned as I admitted that, so I continued in a hurry, “Together, we can figure something out.” Or at least he would know he wasn’t alone. I let him consider that for a moment, then said, “Don’t feel like you have to deal with them alone. I haven’t been the best at this, but I’m here for you.”
He nodded eventually, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. I asked, “Wanna go hang out with Max and April?”
Brendan shook his head. “Not really in the mood.”
“Why don’t you go up to your room then?”
He looked unsure “Mom and dad haven’t yelled at me yet.”
“Our parents don’t yell,” I scoffed. “They discuss things very sternly.”
Brendan didn’t smile at my joke. “They haven’t gotten to discuss things sternly with me.”
“Let me worry about that,” I instructed. He looked at me like he thought that was the joke, but I didn’t take the words back. I was used to doing what they said after a lifetime of it, but Brendan was worth doing things differently for.
Brendan smiled. “Okay, thanks.”
I advanced towards the closed study door. Time to face the music. Why was there an expression about facing the music? Music wasn’t tangible. It couldn’t physically hurt anyone. Unless someone tried to throw an instrument. A tuba or piano could certainly cause damage. Maybe if someone didn’t like the type of music? But still, music was such a weak threat. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as my father.
I knocked then let myself in. My mother sent me a disgusted look, but father’s displeased air didn’t even change at that. Perhaps he’d hit his disappointment and anger threshold and couldn’t be more displeased with me. That was comforting, kind of.
They carried on like I wasn’t there at first. “Why does Professor Vincent insist on making the spelling club available to students who don’t go to Milton?” Mother said.
“Perhaps he’ll reconsider after this fiasco,” Father responded.
Fiasco. It wasn’t a fiasco. It was just a loss. Only one kid could win. And yes, Eric Wu didn’t go to Milton. Even if he hadn’t won, Brendan would still have lost because he came in third, not second.
“Brendan’s upstairs now.”
“We didn’t get to speak with him yet,” Mother said.
“It can wait,” I told them. “He needs to take his mind off the competition.”
Father shook his head slightly. “That’s why he lost. You two didn’t have your mind on the competition.”
“We’ve been studying nonstop for the past few weeks.” I told Brendan not to get carried away and then dove into the bee with him because I needed a distraction from Max going AWOL. I was probably confusing my poor brother with mixed signals, but I was trying. That had to count for something.
“To make up for subpar performance earlier,” father said dismissively. “Honestly, Cal, what happened to you?”
“Dad, come on,” I tried.
“What will you do a whole coast away in Stanford?” he continued. “Waste the money your mother and I pay on tuition in favor of fun?” He shook his head. “That’s the last I want to hear of applying there.”
I didn’t let myself focus too closely on his words. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Brendan. He deserves support whether he wins or loses.”
“Don’t start with any nonsense about how winning isn’t as important as trying, we’ve raised you both better than that,” dad snapped. He acted like everything could be conquered. He’d be disappointed if I played the lottery and lost.
“I’m not backing down on this.” I was telling him as much as I was telling myself.
“What kind of lesson will this teach Brendan?” Dad asked me. “That actions don’t have consequences?” Dad stepped toward me and spoke in a low voice. “This about both of you. When did we start accepting mediocrity in this family? After losing the internship, I thought you’d get serious.”
God, that was it. “Why? What happens if I don’t?” I snapped. “What else is there to take away from me?”
I walked away. When father didn’t follow me, I collapsed on the door, breathing hard and reeling. I stood up to him. I could barely believe it. It felt. Terrifying. Terrible. Oh god, what had I done? The right thing. I thought. I hoped. That didn’t make it easy. How unfair was that? Why did everything about the right thing have to be so hard?
At least it was done. I’d stood up to my father; I’d had enough. Something had to give. For the first time, I didn’t think it would be me.
***
I was a teenage rebel with my bad boy boyfriend and standing up to my parents. Why not add staying out too late to the mix? These thoughts were more terrifying than exhilarating. Well, the standing up to my parents part was terrifying. Max was the type of reckless I craved as spending more time with him was worth whatever risk.
I didn’t want to stand out on my
porch all night until my parents fell asleep, so I called Max to come get me.
Even if he was part of my distress. We were dating and just getting there required so much effort. It wasn’t even all on his part as liking and dating a boy, carrying on a relationship without my parent’s knowledge, all that was a first. Yet despite all the obstacles we both had to overcome to even get to this point, did any of it matter? It hadn’t gotten us far at all if Max could be so cavalier. He could just walk away when things got tough. But he came back. He didn’t factor me into his future. I was still more serious about him than he was about me.
No, it did make sense to not think of him when weighing college decisions. Max was right. That was logical. Since when did I have trouble with logic? Oh, that was obvious. Since Max. Brendan’s loss, parental, and my own maudlin thoughts were hard to shake. I must have been desperate if I agreed to let Max take me for a spin on his bike.
However, if anything could snap me out of the melancholy threatening to overwhelm me, time with Max would do it. Max wasn’t a drug but was addicting all the same. When I was around him, the rest of my thoughts got quiet. It was easy to focus on him and on us. He met me at the end of my driveway. It was dark out with only street lights to illuminate us, which added to the intimate, romantic atmosphere, but most of the vibe in the air came from us instead of the environment. I’d seen him earlier and my heart still skipped a beat when we met up again, giddy to be in his presence.
I wanted to tell him not to ghost on me again or whatever my friends called it. I wanted to tell him we’d figure things out together. After the show down with my parents, I didn’t have the energy. He was back now. That was what mattered.
It felt like we were the only two people in the world as we pressed close together and he handed me his helmet. The gesture warmed me a little, but I scolded him for good measure about not having an extra one. Most of him was dark and shadowed but I thought I could still make out the hue of his eyes. We didn’t speak, only traded a few kisses, and then it was time to go.