Chapter Six #2
“Just celebrating another great game.” Dad looked across the table, his eyes shining with pride. “She’s on the women’s basketball team.”
The waitress pressed a strategic hand to her chest, her expression softening. She looked around the table, making eye contact with each of us. When her eyes met mine, I offered her a smile that I hoped made it look like I wasn’t in physical pain. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
I nodded along with the rest of my family, my parents thrilled with the praise.
For a brief moment, my parents leaned toward each other.
The only thing they could agree on—and the only thing that seemed to bring them together—was how much they love being praised for being the figureheads of a happy family.
“Can I get you guys started on anything?” the waitress asked, turning her head to look at me first for my order.
“Just water for me—”
Mom cut in before I could finish my order. “Let’s do mimosas for the table.” She turned to look at Mags, the only person who ever mattered. “It won’t be an issue with your training schedule, right?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I interrupted. As much as alcohol could make a brunch go by faster, it could also very, very quickly turn it into the kind of tense, uncomfortable meal that would make fans of the Real Housewives franchise happy.
Mags and I haven’t been of legal drinking age for a very long time, but we’d been of it long enough to recognize a pattern.
Or at least, I recognized it. Mags was probably oblivious as always.
“I insist. And we’re paying for it,” Mom said with a good-natured laugh, as if things would ever be any different. She didn’t look at me, her smile directed at the waitress.
“Coming right up. I’ll get waters for the table, as well,” the waitress said, glancing over at me with a smile.
As she walked away, I focused my attention back on the menu and tuned out the small talk that was eventually just going to turn into the Mags Show. I was proud of my sister—genuinely—but every single conversation coming back to her basketball career was a little excessive.
After deciding what I wanted to order, I looked out the window at everyone wandering down Main Street.
There were groups of girls out in their cutest fall attire, soaking up the warm sun.
They carried boxes of food with them, having just wrapped up their brunches, giggly and tipsy.
It made me miss my friends, desperate to be out somewhere with them instead of here.
It also, weirdly, made me think about GJ. Things with her had been so fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d flirted with someone and actually laughed and had a good time. And the sex had been unbelievable, which was just an added bonus.
I’d stayed true to my word that things were casual, not once approaching her or going through her social media pages for clues about other girls she might be fooling around with.
I was kind of impressed by my own self-control.
It turned out it was true that I was capable of being cool so long as I knew what to expect.
But still, there were times before I fell asleep where I thought about her gentle voice and gentle hands and the way I felt so confident around her.
I felt like the best version of myself. And maybe that was a one-time thing, but maybe it wasn’t.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to take on the risk of finding out.
The drinks came out, and I sipped on my mimosa, my attention going between GJ and the conversation my parents were having with Mags.
When the waitress finally came over to get our food orders, I’d never been so relieved to see anyone.
Depending on how long it took for the food to get out, I knew there wouldn’t be much longer until we’d be able to leave.
My parents never minded meeting us somewhere, but they were predictable in that they never stayed for more than a basketball game and a meal.
As much as we disagreed, it was a relief that they never overstayed and never expected us to host them.
“Leah, what are your plans for after graduation? You’ve hardly given us updates,” Mom asked, my name pulling my attention back toward the conversation. I blinked and realized I’d been staring at my still mostly full glass, completely zoned out.
“What?” I asked, coming back to reality. I had no idea what the segue had been to loop me into the conversation.
“Post-graduation plans. Have you put much thought into it?” Mom was an expert at mean girl speak, her tone just light enough that someone not used to it might not realize she was quietly being bitchy.
I inhaled, mulling over how I even wanted to start answering her question.
Thinking about life after college made me want to break out in hives.
It wasn’t because I loved Lakeside Green, or even really college, for that matter—it was just impossible to imagine what my adult life was going to look like.
School was easy and structured: join clubs, attend class, make friends, party.
I knew exactly where to be and when. I knew who was going to be at a given party, knew that they would be reliably on campus and usually available, barring periods of being too obsessed with the crush of the moment to hang, or swamped with classwork.
Adulthood wasn’t like that. Adulthood was people moving away, getting jobs, and finding partners to build long-term lives with. I couldn’t predict a single thing that was going to happen next. I had to basically rebuild my entire life.
As much as I was itching to get out of Lakeside Green so I could be in a city of any kind, I was scared to leave, and I knew it.
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted.
Dad looked like he didn’t know what to do with that information.
It didn’t help that he seemed to have come out of the womb knowing he wanted to work in fucking wealth management of all things.
Or at least, that might as well have been the case with how he told the stories.
I’d heard a couple of variations over the years when my parents got embarrassed about me not having any explicit goals.
Well, I always knew what I wanted to be.
And Mags did, too. What about you? “Anything standing out from your classes? Surely there’s something of interest.”
I kept my answer as noncommittal as possible. “There are a few options.”
“I’ve always said you would do exceptionally well in law school,” Mom offered. “You wouldn’t be able to apply for next year, but there’s time to prepare for the cycle after. Have you looked at those LSAT prep books I bought you?”
My lips turned up in a polite, closed-mouth smile. I respected my mom’s various attempts at tempting me to follow in her footsteps, but law school felt like a last-ditch effort—the thing I would turn to when I really didn’t know what else to do.
“I’ll figure it out. There’s still time.”
“There isn’t much. You’re a few weeks away from Thanksgiving break and then the end of the first semester of your senior year. You can’t wait forever,” Dad offered. It was the exact opposite of what I needed him to say.
My chest tightened. “I’ll be okay. Even Mags won’t know where she’s going until, like, April.”
“That’s different. That’s the draft. I already know what I’m doing, I just don’t know where,” Mags said, entirely unhelpful as usual. It was obvious where she’d gotten that trait from.
It was so tempting to break character for just a second and say, Can you please just have my back for once?
But I’d never been someone to cause a public scene.
Or a scene in general, really. I’d mastered the art of leaving a conversation with some dignity, knowing from my country club-trained parents how to shut something down in a subtle way that never sounded rude.
“I’m considering options. A background in marketing can be applied pretty universally, so I’m fortunate.”
“That’s also code for a major that will never actually get you a job anywhere. Hopefully, some of the connections you’ve made out here will be able to get you in somewhere. Maybe that internship you had last year,” Dad offered.
I thought back to the summer internship I’d held.
I’d worked on some enrollment campaigns and encouraged students to apply to the school.
Most of the work had felt empty because it was hard to sell a school that I didn’t even want to attend.
It wasn’t a bad job. I was grateful my coworkers were amazing, and the work wasn’t overwhelming; it just wasn’t necessarily what I wanted to do forever.
The waitress returned along with another waitress to place our food on the table. We all smiled politely, and I tried my best not to show that I was about three seconds away from starting to cry.
“I can always talk to some people at whatever team I end up going to, too.” Mags picked up her fork and knife to start eating like she didn’t just say something straight out of my nightmares.
Mom’s eyes widened with obvious excitement.
Yet again, her favorite daughter was there to save the day.
What else could possibly be expected? “That would be wonderful! You two could continue living with each other. It’ll get you by for at least a few years and help you learn some new skills.
Maybe do some LSAT prep in the meantime. ”
My fake smile pulled even tighter across my teeth. That would be what would happen—I’d end up taking a job with Mags’ team, move wherever she went. And of course, my parents would love it. Yet again, Mags to the rescue. Yet again, the star of the family. Always looking out for me.
I tried to think of the most diplomatic, inoffensive answer I could muster. Inside, I was nearly bubbling over with rage. “I don’t know. I might want to do something else.”
“It’s not like you have anything else going on,” Mom said simply. The dig felt like someone thrusting a knife into my chest. “I’m not even sure what you’re doing here that’s been beneficial for your future.”
“I was the student body president,” I argued, trying my best not to get defensive but failing miserably. The worst part of all was that my parents didn’t even mean anything to be offensive—they were just making plainly stated observations. They had no idea how much their comments hurt me.
“For one school year,” Dad said. “You opted out of doing it again this year. It’s becoming a pattern, Leah. You show a lack of commitment.”
It was so hard to resist asking them, And why do you think it is that I keep changing up my extracurriculars? Could it be my unsupportive parents? “I’ve been a cheerleader the entire time I’ve been at LSGU.”
“With no aspirations or avenues to do it professionally, as far as we know.” Mom waved a perfectly manicured hand.
“Not like cheerleading is even a feasible pathway. It’s a part-time job most of the time, even for professional sports teams. I’m glad it’s been fun for you, and you’ve stuck to it, but it’s not a career. ”
I swallowed down the rest of my mimosa, trying to think of how I could politely ask, What the fuck is your problem? as I stared out the window. Meanwhile, my parents had already gone off on a tangent about how thrilled they’d be to see us continue to live together and be employed by the same team.
I looked over at Mags for help, but as usual, I was expecting too much of her. She didn’t even look like she felt bad or realized how shitty this all was.
My family began digging into their food, still chatting. It was a full conversation involving me, but it was like I wasn’t even there.
“You only want us in the same place so that you’ll feel like you don’t have to take care of us,” I finally spat out.
My parents both blinked at me. Even Mags looked taken aback.
“Pardon?” Mom asked.
I nearly brushed it off, but then I realized that this was just going to continue on.
Mags essentially offering for me to continue following her and having my life hinge on her career was going to continue to come up.
She’d opened a can of worms I’d have to deal with until at least graduation, if not until I landed my first job offer.
And even then, I’d keep hearing things like You know, you could always work for your sister’s team.
“I don’t want to go everywhere Mags goes.
We’re not children,” I said firmly. The liquid courage coursing through me was working overtime, but it didn’t stop my shaking hands.
I put my fork down, no longer interested in my eggs benedict.
“I can find a job outside of her team and outside of her. And it’s not like Mags can even promise she’ll be on a team. It’s not for her to decide.”
Mags frowned, immediately on the defensive. “Hey, I’m more than capable of going pro.”
“And we love taking care of you guys and seeing you. It just makes us feel better knowing that you two are in the same place, especially when you’re so far from home,” Dad said, immediately going into customer service mode. He was talking to me like I was one of his clients. “That’s all.”
I would’ve maybe believed it if my parents had been around at all while we were growing up.
But the most involved they ever were in our lives while we lived with them was setting extremely structured schedules for us, and occasionally going to Mags’s basketball games.
They made it so there wasn’t time to see them.
I went quiet, the energy to pick a fight expelled from my body. They had a way of making me feel so guilty for ever trying to stand up to myself, it was almost impressive.
“Eat your food,” Mom said, nodding from across the table at my plate that was still almost full.
I looked at it and then shook my head. “I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.
My mom didn’t bother to fight with me on it—she just moved on, going back into a conversation with Mags.
I pulled out my phone, not even caring that I was breaking our strict no phones at the table rule, and texted Soph.
Leah
Are you out right now?
She started typing back a response almost immediately.
Soph
Of course I am. Walk to my location, we’ll be here for a few more hours.
Leah
Perfect. Save me a drink.
Or twelve.
Soph
Rough brunch with the parents?
Leah
You have no idea. I’ll see you soon.