Select

by Marit Weisenberg

  When John’s dad extended his hand to me, I realized I’d been walking around dismissing and underestimating everyone who wasn’t part of my family, but in this case, that was a mistake.

  “Taro.”

  I shook his hand. “I’m Julia.” He nodded. I could tell he knew who I was and he really wasn’t impressed. He looked at John. That was all he had to do and John started talking.

  “It was raining, so…”

  John’s dad held up a hand, as if to say, Don’t worry about it. Then he asked, “Where’s your brother?”

  “Lifting weights.” John looked his dad straight in the eye, and they had some kind of passing communication, until John’s dad simply nodded. “Are you staying for dinner, Julia?”

  “No!” I shook my head vehemently. “I was actually on my way out.” I started searching around the room for where I’d left my bag. I had never, ever in a million years pictured myself interacting with John’s parents. It was one thing having people at school see us together—they felt superfluous to me. This was on a whole other level. I couldn’t take this back. If they knew me, it became real, not just a fantasy that only concerned the two of us.

  “No. Stay for dinner,” Taro said directly to me. John looked over at me apologetically but didn’t try to get me out of it. It seemed that if his dad said it, it was going to happen.

  The front door opened, and in walked a still-sweating Alex, who paused for a moment when he saw me. “Hey, Julia.”

  “Hi.” I was ready to make my move to leave again before I was trapped.

  “Stay,” John said. The fact that he wanted me there was the strangest thing to me. It was also a little bit sweet. But I didn’t know if I could do it.

  And then a minute behind Alex, John’s mother appeared, carrying pizza boxes and bags. You couldn’t have stopped John and Alex from leaping over themselves to help her.

  John’s mom, who had been dressed casually the last time I saw her, appeared in a wrap dress that clung snugly to her curves. She was tall and broad shouldered but not overweight. She off-loaded the food onto the boys. They carried it over to the counter and automatically started getting down plates.

  She looked over at me, surprised. “I had a school-district meeting, so…,” she said, as if apologizing for the takeout.

  “Pizza again?” said Taro.

  “Next time you make the call,” John’s mom said, not snappishly but in a matter-of-fact way that made me not want to mess with her. I remember John saying his dad taught high school math, and I knew his mom was a middle school principal, and it made perfect sense. They both seemed tough, but his dad was more stoic, his mother more fiery. I wondered what they were like as a couple. Victoria was extremely strong, but ultimately everything revolved around my dad. Here you got the sense that when John’s mom was home, everyone jumped to attention.

  “Hi, I’m Kathleen.” John’s mom extended her hand to me. “I saw you at the tennis tournament but didn’t have the opportunity to introduce myself.” Was she saying that pointedly to John or me?

  “I’m Julia.”

  “Nice to officially meet you.” Kathleen didn’t sound at all psyched to meet me. I suddenly felt exhausted, surrounded by a whole new set of people I would have to perform for. The room felt close and overly warm, the small space filled with tall people. There was too much going on, and it might take more concentration than I had to appear normal. It was getting easier after the past months of being on all the time, but I had to be vigilant.

  “Excuse me,” I said slowly. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

  John led me down the short hall to the guest bathroom. I was irrationally pissed that he’d roped me into this dinner. He knew it too.

  When we were alone outside the bathroom door—within earshot of his parents and brother—he said, “I’m sorry. No one really says no to my dad.”

  “Yeah. I kind of got that.”

  Realizing how mad I was, John leaned in. “I’m sorry,” he breathed in my ear, and kissed the corner of my mouth.

  “John!” Out of nowhere his mother was standing where she could see us. “Let her use the bathroom.”

  John moved away from me, more slowly than I would have thought he would in his mother’s presence. He had a rebellious streak, and you could see he knew how to make his mother crazy. I pivoted quickly, closing the bathroom door behind me.

  I had to get the hell out of there. I knew I’d feel better if I broke or moved something in their bathroom right now, but I was too scared to try. And it seemed impolite.

  I took in the small powder room. In spite of the slightly peeling wallpaper and other fraying details I’d seen, the house was decorated nicely. Sort of the best of IKEA meets ethnic art brought home from travels. I hated the snob in my head. Hated it even as I couldn’t help but look at everything through the critical lens of someone who grew up in a house that would be featured in Architectural Digest if my family would allow it. Whatever—I wasn’t judging, just observing—and I vowed to keep anything resembling judgment off my face while I was here.

  John’s mom didn’t like me. I’m sure she thought I was a snobby rich girl who was pretending to be something other than that with my tattoos and dyed-black hair—which, looking in the mirror just now, I realized actually wasn’t so black or severe anymore. And here I was leading her eldest down a bad path right at the precise moment he needed to stay focused.

  Funnily enough, beginning last weekend, tennis had started to go well for John. It seemed like right when he quit trying, everything turned around. He had even accused me of messing with his matches after he destroyed some top-ranked players, but I assured him he had no one to blame but himself.

  I studied myself in the round mirror. Who was this person? John was right—my lips were puffy, and on top of that, my incessantly growing hair was bigger than usual from the rain. I had less makeup on than I’d worn at the beginning of the school year, and I looked more like myself from two years ago, before the Lost Kids. I looked girlish and even pretty.

  I took a rubber band off my wrist and pulled my hair back into a bun, feeling a little more in control and like I was headed into a match. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it well. I could hope I had maybe developed some of Novak’s charm overnight.

  Outside in the hallway I paused to look at the hanging family photos, mostly snapshots, none of them artistic like the ones on the second floor of my house. In the baby pictures the boys were adorable, looking almost like twins—one was of them in a pumpkin patch, another was of them posing in the snow with a couple I assumed were their grandparents, an older Asian woman and a Caucasian man. There was one of a very young Taro and Kathleen, standing in front of zebras on a savannah. I could picture them having met at Teach For America or the Peace Corps.

  “Do you even know what a douchebag is?” John’s mother was saying to Alex. “Because I want to make sure you know if you’re going to keep saying it. Sorry, Julia,” she said when she saw I’d walked back into the kitchen.

  I tried not to smile. “Why don’t you sit there,” Kathleen said, and pointed next to where John was sitting, mortified. As soon as I sat down next to him, John moved his chair closer to mine. Seriously, John? I knew he was trying to irritate his mother, and it wasn’t funny.

  As soon as I was seated, Taro put down his phone and meandered over from the kitchen to the table and stood behind his wife for a second. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. Kathleen absentmindedly looked up at him, but then caught his hand and squeezed it when he walked by. She caught me staring.

  It struck me how they seemed to live so easily together. I realized I had never seen a “normal” family interact before, except on TV.

  All at once Alex started talking, and began a monologue about his coach that became funny because he was so clueless about how long he’d been talking. His parents just kept nodding and nodding until they started cracking up.

  “Take a breath,” John s
aid, not unkindly.

  “Don’t forget to eat, babe,” their mom urged Alex, who held a piece of pizza in front of his face for the full two minutes he was talking.

  Alex was a little offended and clamped his mouth shut.

  “So…Julia,” John’s mom said, “you’re a senior?”

  “Yes. I am.” I hoped I was smiling pleasantly. John’s mom had really good posture that made her look excited and alert, like she was ready to spring out of her seat.

  “Are you looking at colleges?” she asked.

  “UT. That’s where my whole family goes,” I said, lying.

  “That’s a great school.” Then, looking over at John, she said, “Well, my baby wants to go as far away as possible. Speaking of which, Alex, I got a phone call today from UCLA. The tennis coach wants you to visit.”

  “Really?” Alex looked at John and seemed hesitant, like he didn’t want to step on John’s toes. “That would be cool if we both went there.”

  “I haven’t heard a thing from them this fall, so you’ll probably be there by yourself,” John replied. Whoa. Touchy subject. The entire table tensed up.

  “Where do you want to go?” Taro asked, looking over at John.

  “Stanford.”

  “Well” was all his mom said.

  “Trust me, I know. They haven’t reached out since I’ve been back.” John looked his mother in the eye with a You seriously want to talk about this right now? look.

  “How was practice today?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

  John’s dad stood, as if trying to draw her attention away from John. “Want another glass of wine?”

  “Sounds good. So, John honey, how was practice?” She suddenly knew something was up.

  “I didn’t go today. It was canceled because of the rain.”

  “But Alex was there?” No one said anything. Kathleen looked at me and then back to John. After a moment she said, “Got it,” which was worse than if she’d been openly annoyed.

  John’s dad sat back down. “Julia, would you like anything else?” he asked politely.

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” I noticed John had stopped eating also. Taro took a sip of his wine and surveyed his family. He was so calm and collected, yet he had a strong presence. It was quiet. He didn’t demand power like my dad, who came into every room with an energetic burst and an expectation of being the center of attention.

  “Let me help,” I said when Alex stood up to start clearing the table. I thought that’s what a normal person would do, even though I’d never helped with such a thing in my life.

  “No, no. Sit down!” said both parents at once.

  “No, really!” I slowly removed plates and handed them to Alex, watching his system for cleaning plates and putting them in the dishwasher. Alex watched me hold a bunch of silverware in my hand and pause while I looked for where the hell to put it.

  “It goes in that side basket,” he said, giving me a strange look.

  I finished what I could and promptly said, “Unfortunately I need to get going.”

  John’s mother said, “Of course. Thanks for joining us.” Both of his parents stood and walked John and me to the door.

  John practically dragged me out while I said thank you. When the front door closed behind us, he began apologizing immediately.

  “Stop. Don’t worry. Seriously. Your family is very caring,” I said, and I meant it. My existence seemed to drive them crazy, but it was because they cared about John. “And I kind of have a crush on your dad,” I teased.

  “Ugh, please. You and every student he has.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I don’t know. That’s what my mom says.”

  “I really better leave,” I said, looking out to the street beyond the house. The sky was starting to darken, the days getting shorter. There was an awkward pause between us, and I looked down at the bright red geraniums, newly planted in pots by the front door. In just about every way, this experience had been the opposite of my home life.

  “Call me later?” John said. He matched my sudden distance with his casualness. I didn’t need to read his mind to know he was cursing himself that he’d made me stay for dinner. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t that. It was that all of it was suddenly too real.

  When the gate to my house opened, I was met with the sight of three or four cars parked in the driveway. A yellow Lamborghini suddenly came to life, backed out violently, and then drove swiftly past me, taking me by surprise. The windows were dark, but I saw that the driver was Angus’s dad, Lati, my dad’s best friend. I may have been wrong, but I thought I caught a glimpse of Angus in the car. I was surprised Lati hadn’t acknowledged me or even slowed down. He’d stared straight ahead and driven like he was angry.

  They’d been caught.

  When I entered the house, Victoria, who was standing with Anne, met me.

  I had my answer to “Where have you been?” fairly prepared. But, more kindly than usual since Anne was listening, Victoria said, “Julia, will you please go upstairs?” Just then, Dominik and Carlo, who worked closely with my dad, walked by carrying trash bags, and another man followed with a large external hard drive. By way of explanation, Victoria said, “Your father is home and decided to clean house, so to speak. It’s a little crazy down here.” Clean meant confiscation. I could tell Victoria had been caught off guard because she was wearing workout clothes. I glanced at Anne, who seemed preoccupied.

  “Of course. I’ll go up now.” I began to walk in the direction of the living room.

  “Why don’t you go up the other way? They’re having a meeting in the living room.”

  I nodded and changed course to the back stairs. “Good night.”

  They were severely distracted. Distraction didn’t happen very often. It worried me that the boxes were being dumped in this manner. It seemed reactive.

  I ran up the stairs wondering what the hell was going on. When I was in front of my bedroom door, my bag weighing down one shoulder, I could hear sounds coming from Liv’s room much farther down the hall. I listened for a moment. It was muffled crying.

  Old protective instincts took over. If she was crying, I felt like I needed to go to her. No one ever cried. There was no need. Except for me. I was the only one who let my emotions get to me, as Victoria and Novak had witnessed that night in Novak’s office. I knew they’d never forget that. Even if Liv could cry, she had never had much, if anything, to cry about. What had my dad said to Liv and Angus? What was their punishment? I wondered how much Novak really cared that Angus had gone beyond his social reach to be with Liv. It seemed like there were bigger things going on.

  Just before I knocked on Liv’s door, I paused. She certainly hadn’t been there for me. I couldn’t bring myself to knock.

  Hearing Novak’s voice below, I walked over to the staircase. I could only see if I stood in full view. I took a step out into the open at the top of the staircase and immediately saw my dad. He was standing in front of an audience of people of his generation arranged in a semicircle around him. They looked up at him as he paced and gesticulated, like he was working to win over a jury. They all sat on the edge of their seats, hanging on his every word. Then everyone laughed. This was Novak at his most compelling and persuasive.

  Sensing a presence, my dad suddenly looked up to where I was standing. He looked back at me almost blankly, deep in his train of thought. I immediately stepped back into the shadows.

  My phone buzzed. Junk email. Nothing from John.

  I swiftly made my way back to my room, afraid to even think John’s name in Novak’s vicinity.

  I had promised myself I could manage the separation between John and this world. Keep them compartmentalized in my mind. Knowing I shouldn’t do it, that I was beginning to blur lines, I began a text to John.

  Not what I was expecting, but thank you for tonight. You have a very nice family. I miss you already. I immediately deleted it, knowing I could never send it. It looked like my time wi
th him was running out.

  John and I sat across from each other in the library, our feet touching under the table. Our English class had been temporarily moved to the library during construction to repair the leaking roof.

  We sat at our own table, no one else bold enough to intrude, but I felt people glancing up to look at us curiously. One girl from class even scooted back in her chair in order to see under our table, then kicked the girl next to her to point out my feet touching John’s. I pretended not to notice and definitely didn’t move away from him.

  “Hey, man.” A friend of John’s came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey. What’s up?” John said. I remembered his name was Chris. Chris glanced surreptitiously at me. I didn’t bother to look up. It was rare that anyone spoke to me. Especially anyone male. But they seemed to like to get close when they could use John as an excuse.

  “Not much. You going to the festival? You missed out last year. We’re parking at your house and walking from there.”

  “Yeah. I’m going on Friday.”

  “Cool. I’m going the first weekend too. So hopefully we can hang out.” Chris quickly studied me one more time. John had barely hung out with his friends for a few weeks now.

  “Sounds good,” John replied. Chris nodded and walked back to where his class was sitting.

  I threw down my pencil and arched back, stretching long. When I moved, more eyes looked my way, watching me. I knew I looked like I didn’t notice, but I was always aware. I’d never get used to it.

  John liked that his family had flustered me. It gave him hope that I wasn’t a complete ice queen where other people were concerned. John thought it had been funny to see me nervous. He liked that I wasn’t perfect.

  And I hated that he thought that. I’d had no idea I appeared nervous that night. Of course, I didn’t like that he saw differences between me and my family. They were perfect, and that’s what I wanted to be—I had to be—too.

  As soon as I left that night, his parents had been all over him. Safe sex, tennis, distraction, getting too attached senior year—those were some of the highlights I got from reading his mind. Right now he was thinking that no one could believe I was his girlfriend, if that’s what I was.