“Oh.”
“Exactly. He asks if I’m applying. I say, ‘No. I’m ready to work and need to focus on getting a job now.’ Cut to Dad lecturing me about dreams deferred, wasting opportunity, shaming the ancestors, et cetera . . .”
“That is a familiar tune.”
“I know. I said to him, ‘I don’t know why you’re giving me the same lecture you gave Maya for not going to college.’ No offense.”
Her sister waved off any further explanation.
“But I’m going to graduate,” EJ continued, “on time and with honors from one of the hardest engineering programs in the country. Why isn’t that enough? That’s when he starts talking to me about passion.”
“That’s a bit ironic. Since my lectures were about responsibility and how passion is not everything.”
“I know!” EJ growled. “What changed? Anyway I’m sitting there, taking it all in, when he says, ‘A Fields Fellowship is every engineer’s dream. If you don’t want this, why do you even want to be an engineer?’” She exhaled lengthily. “I told him the truth.”
Maya looked at her with interest. “Which is?”
“That engineering is not and was never my dream. It’s a compromise. That I am an engineer because I couldn’t be a ballerina. I told him that I wanted to be the next Michaela DePrince or Misty Copeland more than I have wanted or will want anything else. That I stuck with engineering because I could see how proud it made him. That I went to Longbourn instead of taking a near full ride to UMD because of how excited he was when we got the acceptance letter.
“That I stopped going to church because it was easier to not believe than keep the faith in a God who would give me the drive and the talent but not the money to make my dreams come true.”
Maya sucked in a harsh breath. “Shit. Is that true?” The religion thing was something else that had brought Maya and Daddy closer together while pushing him and EJ apart. Her belief had been waning since grade school, but she’d remained an active member of the church, helping in the nursery and going on all the volunteer trips. She didn’t even sit in the top balcony, where the teenagers were tacitly allowed to play with their smartphones during service. She sat next to her parents and tried to pay attention. She still loved the music, but the meaning had started to fall away.
“Mostly, by sixteen, Christianity had lost my head but not my heart. Once ballet went away, I don’t know. It was like the part of me that was capable of believing died.”
“Shit,” Maya said again. “I got that giving up ballet was really, really bad for you. But I don’t think I realized the extent of your feelings. You recovered so quickly.”
EJ looked up sharply. Of all people, she’d thought Maya would have understood her silent sacrifice.
“I didn’t recover. I swallowed my pain. I cried in my room. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to make it back to Momma and Daddy. I thought they might feel ashamed. I felt ashamed. I had to tell my classmates, girls I’d seen almost every day since I was twelve, that I wouldn’t be able to continue. It was like getting your credit card declined in public.”
She shifted against the car. “That’s one of the reasons I chose a branch of engineering where I can make more money and I can start working right away. I never wanted to run out of choices like that ever again.” She rubbed her neck below the brim of the hat. “And now we’re back to the Fields Fellowship.” She watched the distant blink of newly hung Christmas lights decorating one of the nearby townhouses.
Maya broke the silence again. “So I’m not used to winter anymore—I’m cold! What do you say to Board and Brew? We can play Bananagrams,” she said/sang enticingly. “Earl Grey lattes, on me.”
The board game café was the first place EJ had gotten her sense of life beyond high school. Maya and her friends used to go there all the time. They were surprisingly cool with EJ tagging along because she was great to have around for trivia nights. It was how she got interested in her high school’s quiz bowl team.
“Sure, sounds good,” she replied.
Maya elbowed her playfully. “Allons-y, hon,” she said, hopping in the driver’s seat.
EJ sat in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. Maya went to turn the ignition but paused.
“About what you said earlier—‘being the good one.’ I think you’re taking the wrong lessons from my life.” Maya shifted in her seat. “The problem wasn’t the yelling—that was a symptom. The problem was tunnel vision.”
She turned to face EJ. “Both Daddy and I saw only two paths: He saw ‘college’ or ‘ruin.’ I saw ‘art school’ or ‘being a hack.’ So I rejected the gift that Momma and Daddy had saved for me because I thought there was only one way for me to be my own artist. Now I know better. I’m an illustrator. I’ve designed posters and album art for local bands. I sell small sketches and paintings at the farmers market. I have an Etsy store. But I’m also a college sophomore at twenty-seven. I work with my kids, and go to school and paint, but I barely have time for a social life. I’m currently happy with my life, but it was a rough road to get here, and it didn’t have to be.”
EJ frowned. “Do you regret your choices?” she asked, turning toward her sister.
Maya shook her head. “Not the choices. I mean, I still have less debt than many of my peers and about as much success. I do regret how I made them. I wish I’d been clear about what I wanted, and more open to seeing what paths could get me there.”
She adjusted the rearview mirror. “Looking back, I think what I really needed was a gap year and maybe to go to a state school. My four-year art degree would have cost as much as our house. I think I couldn’t handle that pressure.”
EJ quietly quailed. Her degree did cost more than their house.
Maya seemed to read her thoughts. “Don’t. You got so many scholarships that Momma and Daddy are basically paying UMD tuition for your Longbourn education.” She rubbed her forehead.
“All I’m saying is with this Fields Fellowship, don’t reject it automatically because it doesn’t look appealing. Ask yourself: What do you want for your life? Can this help? Forget about your ego. Forget about Daddy, forget about your advisor. Really investigate if this fellowship can give you what you want. Especially if you’re thinking about going to grad school at any point. I can tell you right now, it’s easier to go to school than go back to school.”
Maya started the car. EJ marveled at her sister. She could see both who’d she been and who she was. Maya had grown up. Not that she was immature before, but she seemed more secure now, more balanced. And worth listening to. EJ considered her sister’s advice as they drove to the café.
The next morning, EJ got up and made coffee. When her father came down for breakfast, they both apologized for yelling. She promised to give the Fields Fellowship strong consideration, and then she left for a hair appointment. It was enough to keep the peace until Sunday. Over the weekend, there was a round of family bowling and a big happy dinner. Maya and EJ were leaving on the early train the next day.
Will’s Thanksgiving
Will had forgotten how nice it was to be back at Pemberley. Before Longbourn he’d been living in California, and before that he’d been bouncing from location to location. Pemberley was home, particularly because it was also home to his favorite person in the world: his sister. Lily, to paraphrase Jerry Maguire, completed him. When they were kids, he was bookish and solemn while she was athletic and energetic. They got each other through the horror show of their mother’s death and their father’s inability to cope with it. Then came Will’s vault into semistardom; they survived that, too. There had been a brief but painful estrangement during their high school years. But in the end, they found that the only people they could truly rely on were each other. Thankfully, time had mended that breach, and the siblings were closer than ever—especially since Will and Lily were both going through their first year of the traditional college experience. Longbourn had been Lily’s idea, and these days Will always liste
ned to his sister.
Zara was joining them for their holiday meal. Usually she’d be back home in Providence, but this year she’d been in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Her float sat between a pirate ship bearing Pentatonix and a Sonic the Hedgehog balloon. Will DVR’d the whole thing so Zara could see herself when she came over.
Around 2:00 p.m., he heard the doorbell, then his sister’s joyful squeal. “Lady Z,” Lily cried. Will joined them in the foyer, receiving his own hug and kiss from Zara.
“Fuck, Will, I forgot you guys live in a museum,” Zara said, gazing at their surroundings.
There was a lot of art on the walls. The house itself was over a hundred years old.
“We like to think of it as a cozy museum,” he said with a smile. “Is that wine?”
“Indeed.” She looked him up and down. “Nice blazer—I hope you know there’s not a job interview at the end of this.”
Will shot her a look.
She gave him a conciliatory smile. “I brought red.” Zara handed him the bottles. “Do you approve?”
“Of course. These are good bottles.” Well, they were good but not great. Will hoped she hadn’t been overcharged for them.
“That means ‘try again,’ right, Lily?”
His sister nodded, her teal hair swishing across her shoulders. “But don’t mind him. Z, are you hungry?”
Zara’s eyes widened. “Starving! I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now.”
“Let’s eat, then!” Will offered. “We’ve got dinner on ‘warm’ in the oven. It’s mostly vegetarian, but Lily made sure there was a little turkey for you and me.” The celebratory meal came from an eighty-year-old deli in the neighborhood with a name like a law firm. It was where Lily and Will had gotten their Thanksgiving dinner every year since their gran passed three years ago. Their father made no bones about preferring his new family with their stepmother and new baby. Will and Lily had spent one holiday with them since his senior year of high school, then decided not to repeat the experience. They were all happier this way. Lily sent them a Christmas card, which was more than he was willing to do.
“I also went to that place you took me to last summer and got some pigeon peas and Christmas rice,” he added.
Zara squealed and kissed him on the cheek. “You know how to make a Dominican girl feel at home.”
Will led the way to the kitchen. “Anything for my favorite superhero.”
She elbowed him, lightly. “Hey, I don’t turn into an action star until next summer.”
They ate dinner and watched the parade. Once the food was put away and the dishes were done, they got ready for Will’s favorite tradition: staying up late and watching his grandma’s old movies. This custom grew out of Thanksgivings with his paternal grandparents, who shooed the children upstairs once the adults had started cocktail hour.
Since his gran was the movie buff of the family, he and Lily fell in love with films from the golden age of Hollywood—particularly the musicals. She and Zara stretched out on the room-filling sectional sofa while Will riffled through a highly organized cabinet of DVDs. Gran had made sure her DVD collection went to them in her will. Their father thought this was a sign of senility that her doctors had missed.
“The Lady Eve !” Zara shouted her request to Will, like he was a DJ at a wedding. He moved to a different shelf to oblige.
Lily, who settled comfortably on the end of the chaise lounge, sat up suddenly and shouted, “Popcorn!” before rushing off in a gunmetal streak to the kitchen.
Zara watched her go. “I watched that dress come down the runway at fashion week, and I wondered how anyone could wear it without looking like a mushroom. Then here Lily is, making that gray sack look like a million bucks.”
Will leaned against Zara and smiled. “You should know by now that Lily is magic.”
They could hear the slam of cupboards and the clang of pots. “You know we own a microwave, right?” Will called down the long hallway.
“Stovetop is much better!” Lily retorted. “I just have to find the popper.”
“You can use a pot, too,” Zara offered. “That’s what we did growing up.”
“Trust me on the popper, Z!” Lily called back. After a few more bangs, there was a victorious chirp. “Found it. Just give me ten minutes.”
Will and Zara settled back on the couch and exchanged amused shrugs. He dug a bottle of wine from somewhere and looked around for glasses.
“Don’t bother, we’ll drink it from the bottle like art students in a movie.” Zara laughed and handed him the corkscrew from the coffee table. “You’re already halfway there with that turtleneck.”
Will huffed indignantly, to his friend’s amusement. “It makes more sense with the blazer, but you guys insisted we were being casual after dinner.”
“It’s hilarious that you think you’re being casual right now.” Zara was giddily wearing a unicorn onesie. She crossed her legs and sat in lotus position. She absently twirled a dark lock of hair around her finger. “Oh hey, did you ever see my dancing friend again?”
“Who?” Will frowned.
“Come on, Will—you weren’t that drunk the whole night.” She plucked the wine bottle from his hands, sipped, and then pointed it accusingly. “My girl from the diner, Miss Elizabeth Jacqueline. Black girl, sequin dress, blessed in the chest . . .”
“That’s what EJ stands for?” Will sat up slightly. “How did you even know that?”
Zara smiled. “The way I knew your sister was gay before you did—I asked. I showed interest in her life. It’s kind of my deal.”
Will sighed and bit his lip. Zara couldn’t know how much her casual words stung. He signaled for the bottle’s return. “I wasn’t a great brother then,” he replied sadly. To this day he hadn’t been able to forgive himself for how he failed Lily in high school. How he didn’t realize she needed him until it was almost too late.
Zara complied with his request. “No, but you got better. Most guys are little shits at that age.” She patted his knee. “You’re a great brother now, so it averages out.”
He took a healthy drink and returned the bottle as he raised his eyebrows. “Is that how it works?”
Zara shrugged. “I dunno, probably.” She took a slug of wine. “And don’t think you’re getting away with anything. You said EJ’s name like you say it all the time. So you must be hanging out.”
Will shrugged with aggressive nonchalance. “Lee started dating her best friend. We’re thrown together a lot.”
“Lies!” Lily contradicted as she came around the corner. “I have popcorn with M&M’s and Reese’s Pieces in the green bowl, and I have baby carrots for those among us who will be playing superheroines in the near future.”
Zara put the wine down and reached for the bowl. “My trainer gave me the week off, honey. He said I was getting mean.” She smiled wolfishly. “Gimme the popcorn and tell me about your brother’s falsehoods.”
Lily settled between them. She adjusted her glasses, gave a toss of her colorful hair, and folded her hands like she was going to give a presentation to the ladies auxiliary. Will rolled his eyes and retrieved the bottle in preparation.
“My dear Zara, our Will has a crush on the very Elizabeth Jacqueline you met a few months back.”
“Untrue!” he protested.
“Oh yeah?” Lily said, folding her arms. “Then why do I know that EJ hates butter pickles? That she’s hardcore into astronomy? That she’s deadly at Settlers and Risk but only okay at Scrabble? That she can name more operas than members of One Direction? That she has a favorite cinematographer? I could go on—” She gave her brother a pointed look.
“All that proves is that EJ has a lot of opinions—and she does—and I have a good memory.”
Lily shook her head vigorously. “No! And I will tell you why.” She turned to Zara. “Remember how, after Carrie, Will had a series of sex pals?”
Zara nodded. “His ho period—nothing wrong with that.”
&
nbsp; “Nothing at all,” Lily agreed. “Consenting adults, blah, blah, blah. He doesn’t really tell me about most of them, but there was one girl for most of the summer he called Freckles. Now, brother.” She turned to Will again. “You and Freckles were on and off for at least a two-month period.”
“That sounds right,” Will said, feeling unfairly cross-examined.
“And,” Lily continued, “you have a thing about making your paramours breakfast the morning after.”
“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he nervously affirmed.
“Okay, brother, please tell me how Freckles took her coffee.” Lily and Zara looked at him in anticipation.
Will frowned and thought. I don’t think Freckles drank coffee.
He tried to remember.
After a few more moments of silence, Lily began making suggestions. “Did she like green tea, instead? Cold-pressed juices? Yerba mate with a metal straw?”
Will squinted at Lily, who smiled sweetly. Zara looked on and snickered.
He threw up his hands. “So what if I don’t remember?” he cried. “I can’t notice everything.”
Lily twisted toward Zara. “EJ takes her coffee with one cream and one sugar. When she’s tired it’s just black, and when she’s stressed, it’s black with three sugars. Does that sound right, brother?”
“No, it’s one cream and two sugars—not one—a Dunkin’ Donuts regular,” Will corrected. Zara and Lily regarded him in bemused silence. Will forcefully huffed a sigh. It wasn’t his fault he was observant.
Anyone who spent time with EJ would pick up on her opinions—she could be pretty witty most of the time. And she had better than average taste in music. And she has that fantastic peachy little ass.
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