Yikes, Jamie thought as she finished up. This is not an excuse for his behavior, but it’s a reason. She pulled Lee closer and rubbed his back. “I’m sorry that he went through all this. And I’m sorry that you had to keep this secret. It’s been wearing on you, huh?”
He nodded.
She continued. “It probably hasn’t helped that I’ve been holding EJ’s grudge for her—even when she told me not to. That stops tonight. There’s only room in this relationship for the two of us.” With that Jamie handed the phone back to Lee.
Lee tossed the phone onto his desk and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re very wise, Miss Jamie,” he began, pulling her close. “Let’s just focus on you and me. Everything else will fall into place.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay, Raggedy Ann?”
She nodded against his chest. “Okay, Andy. Now let’s finally get out of these costumes!”
Lee’s face broke out into the brightest of grins. “I just like you so much.”
“What a coincidence—I like you, too!” She stroked his cheek and drew him in for a whisper of a kiss. He returned it, and then his face broke into the brightest smile.
“I just feel so close to you now,” he said. “I feel like ‘we’ became ‘us.’”
Jamie did her best to savor the bright spark of happiness that she was feeling. She could burst into confetti at this moment, and that would be a fine way to go. Lee set her back down on the ground. She stripped to her camisole and turned to see him waiting for her in bed. “Ready to get our snuggle on?” he asked.
“Oh, you bet,” she replied, crawling in next to him with a smile.
EJ’s November, in Text Messages
From Jamie on November 1
We’re official!
So happy for you! I’m happy for me too! Lee’s roommate high-fived both of us when he found out
Ha! That’s awesome
I want to hear everything
Soon, I promise
Let’s meet for lunch!
From EJ to Jamie on November 5
Hey girl, hey
Guess who I ran into at the Arthouse Cinema
Will
hehe, which version
Debate club Will
we were at that Wong Kar-Wai thing
Oh yeah Lee mentioned he was going to that when we borrowed his car
I know! I had to give him a ride back to campus
He missed the bus back arguing with me about “In the Mood for Love”
He called Tony Leung stiff!
How dare he talk about your husband that way!
ikr
From Tessa on November 14
Congrats, you found a musical I liked
That was amazing!
I knew you’d enjoy the concert format
Mel was soooooo fricking good!!
See what happens when you support your fellow Bennet Women?
Haha, you got me
I’m not dreading the next event now
Anyway, how was your meeting with Stella?
Hilarious!
She wants me to apply for a Fields Fellowship
OMG
You should go for it, though
Nah
What do you mean, nah?
From Lee on November 19
We have to talk about that score line
7-2?!
My Gunners are on fire, baby !
For your sake we won’t talk about Man United
Anyway, want to come over to play Settlers?
It’ll be me, Jamie, Will, and You
Maybe . . .
I thought I might just chill tonight
Okay
Will says he can beat you, BTW
Easily
When and where?
Group text between EJ, Jamie, and Tessa on November 20
Tessa:
We’re going to have an intervention when you get back
Jamie:
We may have an intervention
What’s wrong with just wanting a normal job after college?!
Tessa:
This isn’t about wanting a normal job
This is about passing up a Fields Fellowship
Which I have a 1% chance of getting
Jamie:
Your advisor thinks you have a good shot
I just don’t understand why you’re not even thinking about it
This isn’t like you
Tessa:
Bennet Women try, Eej!
You preach that more than anyone
You have to try!
My train is here. Can we talk about it after Thanksgiving Break?
Please?
THANKSGIVING BREAK
EJ Goes Home
Going from a small New England town to the DC suburbs was a little like going from Kansas to Oz. Everything was a little brighter and louder—life felt like it was in Technicolor by comparison. EJ released a sigh she didn’t know she was holding when the train pulled into New Carrollton Station.
The stop was in Prince George’s County, one of the wealthiest majority-black counties in the country; her parents had wanted to raise her here to make sure EJ saw black doctors, black lawyers, and black school principals in her daily life. They wanted her and Maya to “dream freely.” It worked—both EJ and Maya grew up to want difficult but wonderful things.
At the Hertfordshire Station, EJ had been the only black face in the place and the only person of color not behind the concessions counter. By the time her train reached Baltimore, she could see others like her: black kids coming home from their fancy Northern schools. Just in her train car, there were a bassist from the Berklee College of Music and twin first-generation Nigerian guys in Princeton sweatshirts. EJ walked briskly to the taxi stand, feeling wonderfully inconspicuous.
In the cab, EJ gave her address and asked the driver to go overland. Her parents would always offer to pick her up from the train station, but she liked having the twenty minutes of the drive to . . . exhale, to really let the feeling sink in. She was home.
Just thinking the words caused something in her shoulders to release. It was like she wasn’t herself at Longbourn—and she really did love the school—but she never felt as relaxed there as she did now, especially since Jamie and Tessa would not drop the subject of the Fields Fellowship.
EJ sighed deeply and leaned back in her seat. She’d thought Tessa would understand a little since they were both women in STEM, but she ended up being more insistent than Jamie. Neither of them seemed to get how much work it took to accomplish what she did. She wasn’t a genius, just a really, really hard worker. The Fields Fellowship wasn’t for people like her.
She shook off those thoughts and put on her headphones, gazing out the window as they passed her old elementary school. It was a K–8 French immersion school and meant more to her than her high school ever would. Her only grade school friendships that survived to the present had begun while she learned to sing “Allouette.”
I have to text Erica and Renata to see if they’re back, too, she thought, watching the familiar scenes from the window. It was always harder to make plans over Thanksgiving Break. But there was still time.
She was listening to “Home” from The Wiz when the cab pulled onto her family’s tree-lined street. It kept her from jumping out and running the rest of the way. The taxi pulled up to her house with a friendly honk. Everything about the scene was so comfortably familiar: the robin’s-egg-blue exterior, the bright-yellow door, the tall trees that surrounded the house. Momma said the little cottage made her feel like she was living in a fairy tale.
Growing up, EJ had often felt the same way. It was built in 1923 and, for better or worse, had much of the original detail intact. She loved the wood floors, the pressed-tin ceiling in the kitchen, the character of the place. This was what gave EJ her love of old things. She couldn’t wait to get inside.
She paid the driver and had just stepped out of the cab when her father swept her up in a warm hug.
�
��My baby girl is home!” he cried happily, spinning her around.
“Daddy!” She giggled and returned the embrace. Once she was returned to the ground, she left her dad with her suitcases and raced up the steps to her mother. Her mom beamed at EJ and gave her a squeeze.
“Welcome home, Ella.” She took EJ’s hands and leaned back. “Let me take a look at you.” EJ bounced on her heels as her mother looked her over. “You look good, baby girl. Healthy and happy.”
“Thanks, Momma!” She stepped into the house and gaped. The formerly mustard-colored walls were now a pale periwinkle—somehow making the space feel large and new. “You painted! The house looks wonderful!”
“We fixed the floors, too. It’s still the original wood, but the hump everyone used to trip on is gone.”
“We had to modernize just a little.” Her dad laughed. By this time, he’d joined them inside with EJ’s suitcases. “But don’t worry, your mirrors are still safe, see?” He set the luggage by the banister.
They moved to the doorway of the long, narrow living room. One wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors, like a dance studio. EJ had been dancing in front of them since she could walk. She smiled at her parents in the mirror and then walked to the hallway closet, where she hung up her coat and talked about the noisome seatmate who rode beside her from New Haven on.
“So we’re waiting at Penn Station, and I’m like, ‘Finally: after the olives, the pickles, and the sardines, he’s run out of stuff.’ I can see all his containers are empty. Then guess who comes back with a tuna salad sub? At that point, I just put my coat over my head and pretended to sleep.” She laughed, then paused, noticing that her parents made no move to the kitchen as expected. Usually, they sat around the kitchen table and traded stories until they remembered dinner. Instead, they stood and beamed at her, silently. It was weird.
“What’s going on?” She tilted her head quizzically.
Her father giggled. Mom elbowed him and adjusted her glasses. They were both clearly trying not to laugh—or something. “There’s a surprise for you downstairs,” her mom replied. Then, with remarkable dexterity for two pleasantly plump people in their late fifties, her mom and dad darted down the steps to the TV room.
EJ followed at a measured pace, calling down, “I know marijuana is less illegal in Maryland now, so I have to ask: Have y’all been hitting the wacky tobacky?”
“Ella!” a familiar voice chastised. “Is that any way to speak to your momma and daddy?”
“Maya!” She gasped, running into the family room. EJ’s older sister was waiting for her on the downstairs landing. EJ screamed happily before wrapping her sister in a hug. This was more than she could have hoped for. Her parents loved and supported her, but Maya understood her. Even with four years between them, they were an artist collective of two. EJ was a patient life model for Maya’s drawings and paintings while Maya drove EJ to her many classes and critiqued her living room rehearsals. Then there was the normal big-sister stuff: Maya took EJ to her first concert, got her into anime, and did her best to prepare her for the world of guys. She also got her a vibrator for her twenty-first birthday.
Maya had been living in Hawaii since she served there in AmeriCorps two years ago. Between the six-hour time difference and their busy schedules, the sisters hadn’t been able to do anything but text since September. This visit was a Thanksgiving miracle.
“You look great!” EJ exclaimed, admiring the purple ends on her sister’s curly, dark hair. The Pacific sun had brought out its red highlights, too. “What are you even doing here?”
As they stood arm in arm, Maya began giving details behind her visit. “I got invited to present on the work the Ohana Center has been doing on literacy and the Hawaiian language. The conference is going to be next week, in New York, so I thought since I’m on the mainland . . .” She smiled at Momma and Daddy, then looked at EJ. “I’m going to ride up with you on Sunday—at least as far as New York.” She gave EJ a squeeze. “I can’t believe I’ve been able to keep from telling you for so long.”
EJ returned the hug and gazed over at her parents. “I can’t believe y’all didn’t say anything. Daddy’s never even been able to throw a surprise party.”
It was an old family joke; everyone gave the obligatory laugh.
“That’s because we didn’t know,” her dad replied, settling on the couch. “Sunday afternoon, we came home from church to find Maya putting a pot roast in the oven.”
“Y’all know I love cooking and I love Sunday dinner. I wanted to start my trip home with the things I missed the most.”
“I missed you the most,” EJ said, dropping her head on her sister’s shoulder.
Her mother sniffed and hugged them both. “My girls,” she exclaimed. “All of us, together again. I’m just so happy.”
That night over takeout, EJ told her family about her capstone progress and craziness on her floor. (“I had to tell Dia three times: no tap practice in your room!”) She told them about Tessa and Colin (getting back together again, ugh) and about Jamie and her new boyfriend (with the briefest mention of Will)—all the fun stuff.
Now she had to make sure her father never heard about her getting the opportunity of a fellowship. He believed that EJ should strive for every award and go for every prize. After four years of doing things his way, she was just tired. Her big first choice for her adult life was going to be getting a nice, normal job.
But why would they talk about that when they could talk about Maya’s book for the Ohana Center, or her mom directing her first musical for the city’s community theater, or Dad getting “voluntold” to chaperone their church’s traditional youth trip to the Great Blacks in Wax Museum in Baltimore. With so many other things to talk about, there was no reason for the Fields Fellowship to come up.
But of course it did, on the Friday after Thanksgiving. The conversation with her dad went about as well as she thought it would, ending when she stormed out of the house so angry, she forgot her coat. She’d never had such a serious fight with either of her parents. Her father had never yelled at her the way he did just then. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she strode over to Maya’s rental car.
“Where do you want to go?” her sister asked, handing her a hoodie and a fleece hat with cat ears. EJ hadn’t even noticed that she’d followed her out.
“Anywhere,” she replied, pulling on the sweatshirt. “Starbucks,” EJ suggested suddenly. “No—New Deal. Let’s go to New Deal Cafe, it’s been forever.”
“Our old place. I’m glad it’s still around—and a little surprised.” She gave a small smile. “Get in.”
The short drive over was silent. EJ stared out the window, not really seeing anything. She just didn’t understand how things blew up so much. Maya didn’t say anything. When they pulled into the parking lot, EJ could see figures dancing in the back room of the café. It was a live-music night.
“Live music? The day after Thanksgiving? All right, New Deal,” Maya said with a touch of admiration. “Not just surviving but thriving.”
EJ quirked her lips. “Yeah, but I’m not up for dancing with boomers.” She got out of the car dejectedly and walked around to lean against the trunk. After a moment, Maya joined her.
The sisters leaned against Maya’s rental car in the small strip-mall parking lot. Silently, they watched their breath stream and curl in the cold November air.
Maya spoke first. “That was the closest I’ve ever seen you come to fighting with either Mom or Dad.”
“Oh God, that wasn’t fighting?” EJ groaned.
“Sorry, goody-goody.” Maya patted the ears on EJ’s hat. “That was, at most, an impassioned disagreement. I must have worn y’all out when I left.”
In the fall of her senior year of high school, Maya had told her parents that instead of applying to college, she intended to move to Oakland and become part of the art scene. To put it extremely mildly, her parents disapproved of this plan. The arguments continued for all of Maya’s seni
or year.
EJ tilted her head in consideration. “There might have been some collective trauma. You were a fucking lot back then.” They laughed, and she felt a little tension leave her shoulders. “I made a point to avoid fighting with them when you were gone. You know, be ‘the good one.’”
Even though EJ agreed that her sister should be able to make her own choices, the fighting had taken almost as much of a toll on her as it had on their parents.
Maya shook her head, curls bouncing. “Eighteen is a hell of a drug.” It wasn’t an apology, but it was close. They both fell silent. EJ quietly remembered that awful time. Daddy took it the hardest. He’d devoted his whole life as a teacher to getting kids to college, minority children especially. Maya’s decision must have seemed like a rejection of his life’s work—especially given how he vented his disapproval. “What happened, anyway?” her sister asked.
“Oy.” EJ scrubbed her face. “My wonderful, far-too-devoted academic advisor called me to make sure that I saw her email about the Fields Fellowship: it’s like a Rhodes Scholarship for engineers. Basically, you get to do a master’s program anywhere in the world, with a stipend. No teaching, and you only have to do a yearlong public service internship afterward. Anyway, there was a second call for candidates, and Stella, my advisor, thinks I should apply. She wants my decision on the first day of classes after break. Stella leaves this all on a voice mail, on the house phone, which Dad hears. Of course, that is where we begin.”
The Bennet Women Page 10