Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Bitty is, in fact, a puppy. Around eight months, according to the vet, and in very good health. In the next few days, he’ll be given an astounding number of shots, and then…
“Are you really planning to bring him back to the US?” the vet asks.
“If I don’t, my fiancée might kill me.”
The vet’s eyes immediately flit to me. “Oh, no. I’m not the fiancée, I’m his—”
“Daughter,” Eli says with a grin, draping his arm over my shoulders.
“I hate it when you do that,” I mumble.
“I know. That’s why I do it.” Eli presses a fatherly kiss on the crown of my hair, oblivious to the way Conor pinches his nose. Even the most long-standing of jokes hits different, when you just spent a good chunk of your morning going down on your best friend’s not-daughter in a cave.
I’m not sure how it ended up this way—Eli, Conor, and I, together at the vet like a big happy family, then riding back home in the ever-present red Fiat. “Can you lower your window?” I ask. After a rocky start with the car, Bitty is climbing over my lap, showing some interest in the outside. “There’s no button back here.”
Eli looks back at me, elbow leaning out of the window. “When we were young, car windows had to be manually cranked down. And it was a big pane .”
“Please, not the dad jokes.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“Nope.”
“I’m shattered.”
I groan. “I’m begging you.”
“Hi, Begging You. I’m Eli.”
“Okay—Conor, could you please pull over? Bitty and I are walking home.”
Eli sighs. “And here I was, thinking you were cracking up.”
When we get back, Paul is on the patio, working at his laptop. Conor steps aside to take one of his big important money calls, and Eli and I decide to document Tiny and Bitty’s shameless reunion lovefest. They have been apart for less than forty-five minutes.
“If you change your mind, I’ll take him,” Paul offers after a while. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
I look up from my canine masterpiece of a photo shoot. “What? No way.” It must have come out a little aggressive, because he looks at me befuddled, but I don’t back down. “Get in line, Paul. If anyone who’s not Tiny gets Bitty, it’s me.”
“He’d be closer to Tiny, with me,” Paul quips back, teasing, flirty, and I’m genuinely outraged. There was a time, when I was eleven or twelve and so lonely that I could feel it in my bone marrow, that I dreamt of some kind of serendipitous meeting like the one with Bitty. I’d rescue a pet, and we’d be inseparable forevermore.
Middle school fantasies die hard, and Paul is not getting this dog. “No, he wouldn’t. Plus, he likes me.”
“California’s a lot closer to Texas than Massachusetts. It would be easier to visit—”
To his credit, he immediately realizes that he fucked up. It must be my expression—the way I’m staring at him like I plan to vacuum his heart out of his mouth.
“I…Warren—we had a call this morning. He mentioned that you formally refused Sanchez’s offer. I assumed that…”
“What?” Eli asks.
Paul flinches. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”
I don’t relax my glare.
“I didn’t—I figured that if I was told, I must be the last one to know.”
My eyes narrow to slits, and he takes a few steps away, clearly terrified of me. “I can’t believe I used to have a crush on this guy,” I mutter to myself.
“In your defense, you were very young,” Eli says dryly. “Now, if we can go back to the major life decision you forgot to share with the class…”
“It’s not like that.”
“Did you turn down Sanchez’s offer?”
I try to stop my throat from convulsing. “I was going to…I was waiting till after the wedding to tell you.”
“Okay.” Eli’s eyebrow lifts like nothing about this is even remotely okay. “But why? Is there a reason why you didn’t want me to know?”
“I—Eli, I never said that I didn’t want you to know.”
He blinks like I’m a riddler guarding a treasure room. “I don’t…I thought you were past the stage of your life where you hide things from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
There is a touch of hurt in his brief, single laugh. “Clearly there is something you’re hiding, since I found out that you’ll be moving to Boston from Axel’s brother—”
“I’m not moving to Boston, and Paul doesn’t know shit.” I shiver as fire climbs up my throat. That combination of hot and cold that I’m all too familiar with.
Eli crosses his arms, impatient, and this is how it’s always been between us. My anger and his, fueling each other. These standoffs, they would happen every day when I was teenager. And now…I don’t want to fall back into that .
“Listen.” I take a deep breath. Another. Five fingers. “I don’t think this is the best time to discuss this. Can we please both take a step back and—”
“Why is it such a big deal, letting me know about the MIT position? I told you from the start that I would support you no matter—”
“Because I didn’t accept the MIT position,” I nearly scream. “I deferred . I called Jack, and he said that he’d try to keep my position open for another year, but that is contingent upon the funding situation at the research center, and the Fermilab spot is going to go to someone else. There, now I told you. Are you happy?”
Eli looks at me like…Like I’m still twelve, and he decided out of the blue that I could no longer watch my favorite show because it was too violent, that I needed to have a bedtime, that I couldn’t hang out with my friends because they were too old for me. I can barely breathe. “What the hell is going on, Maya? Why are you being so childish?”
“Why are you treating me like I’m some adolescent who needs to keep you apprised of—” A dam bursts, and anger bleaches my brain. All I see is red. All I hear is my heartbeat. This rage—sometimes I feel like it’s what I’m made of. A bunch of crimson molecules scouring through me, leaving nothing but resentment behind. “You know what, Eli? Screw you. I’m not going to let you talk like that to me.”
I stalk away, down the stairs of the patio, hating Eli, hating Paul, above all, hating myself for the way—
Something blocks my path, and I nearly trip.
When I look down, I see Conor’s forearm. It strains against my belly like a damn turnstile.
“If you don’t let me go—”
“Maya.”
“ Conor . If you—”
“Will you focus on me for just a second? Please?”
I do. Gradually, the rest of the world—waves, shrieking seagulls, Bitty’s playful nipping of Tiny—recedes.
“What the hell is going on?” Eli asks, but it comes from a distance. Easy enough to ignore.
“I’m not going to force you to stay here,” Conor murmurs, bending down to my temple. “But you’ve told me several times that when you get angry at someone you love, you often wish it occurred to you to take a deep breath.”
I blink. It takes a moment, but I can register the meaning of his words over the sharp, toxic rush of my blood.
I hesitate. Nod once, brusque.
“Will you look me in the eye?” he asks.
I do, sullen. And immediately feel…grounded. “ When the anger comes ,” my therapist always says, “ focus on the things around you. Name them. Try to be more in your body, and less in your head. ” And I do see Conor. I see the balustrade. I see the ocean, and the rosemary, and the red Fiat, and this beautiful place where my brother gathered us for his wedding—
“He’s being a dick,” I say, harsh.
“Yes. He is.”
I bite my lip.
“But you’re not being wholly reasonable, either.”
I close my eyes.
After a few laps of the waves against the shore, Conor adds, “From the outside, this looks like two people overreacting. You and Eli are not enemies.”
It’s that simple, really. I love Eli so much, and…
I turn back around. My brother is glancing between me and Conor, clearly baffled by our interaction. But now that I’m thinking more clearly, I can tease apart the different emotions on his face. Irritation, yes, certainly. Anger. But also worry, and anxiety. Above all, confusion.
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be…”
He shakes his head. “No, I—me neither. I didn’t mean to act like…”
Our sentences swing aimlessly between us. If we were less stubborn, we’d be laughing at ourselves and at each other.
“Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m…” He widens his arms. “Worried. Not because I think you’re a child. Because I don’t understand.”
It’s okay. I’m not fifteen. I didn’t just beat up some guy who hit on me because “ crazy girls give great head .” Eli is not trying to ground me. He’s on my side. “I don’t want it, Eli. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
He nods. Even as he asks, “You don’t want…?”
“Either. I’m just…I’m not sure, yet. I don’t know if I want to be in academia, because I don’t like it. It’s a competitive, ultra high-pressure, deadline-heavy environment that sometimes seems more aimed at perpetuating itself than at any kind of scientific improvement. Scientists are barely in the position of doing their job, and many of them seem miserable, and if I only have one life, shouldn’t I spend it doing something that will bring me joy?” I scratch my forehead. “Not that a corporate position would do that, since it has all the downsides of academia plus the goddamn fact that sometimes there’s no room for ethical considerations or to assess the social impact of—” I stop. Rub a hand down my face. Wait until I feel calm before saying, “I had two great offers. And I know you were proud of me because of it. But neither is what I want. Not right now. I’m just…not ready to commit to either career, yet.”
Eli blinks. “Maya, if you…If you need to take some time off, I can help you—”
“I’ve accepted another position. Before coming here. And for the first time in months, I’m actually excited about next year.”
“What position, Maya?”
“I’ll be teaching at an elementary school.” I swallow. “I got my certification, and…”
Eli looks utterly lost. And Conor…I’m not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes burning a hole through me.
“Where?”
“In Austin.”
“You’re staying in Austin?”
I nod.
“Is this about…” He glances at Conor, and boy, do I have to take another deep breath.
“No, Eli. But it’s nice to know that you think I’d upend my entire life for some guy who barely knows that I exist—”
“No, I—” He spreads his hands. White flag. “You’re right. That was uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t get…You never mentioned wanting to…Why?”
“Because. Because I…I want to try. Because it sounds rewarding and fun . Because the world needs teachers. Because I like kids. Because I love the idea of helping them get excited about something I’m excited about. Because I want to feel like every day has meaning. Because…Listen, I don’t know if that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. I mean, it looks hard. I may end up being terrible at it, but—”
“No.”
I blink. “No?”
“No. You’d be great at it.” Eli sounds certain. Almost dismissive. “Were you afraid that I wouldn’t think so? Is that why you didn’t bring it up earlier?”
“No, I would have told you. After the wedding. If”—I glance at Paul, who’s at least still looking mortified—“ someone hadn’t outed me.”
“?‘Outed’ feels like the wrong word to—”
“ Shut up, Paul ,” Eli and I say in unison. Then I explain, “I would have told you. I just wasn’t sure whether you’d be disappointed, so I was going to wait until after the honeymoon.”
“Maya, how could I be disappointed?” He steps closer, looking genuinely amused. “Have I ever given you the impression that I don’t find teachers valuable, or praiseworthy, or sincerely heroic?”
“No, no. But you said it yourself, you’re always bragging about my research. Sometimes I feel like you want me to be what you weren’t able to. And it scares me, the idea that if I don’t become a scientist—”
Eli laughs. Comes close enough to wrap both my shoulders in his palms. “Maya, I am proud of you. But not of your degrees, or your awards, or your titles. I’m in awe of who you are—the key word is, who you are , not what you do. It doesn’t matter if you win a Nobel Prize for physics or become a javelin thrower, you’re still going to be the same person.” He pinches my cheek like he used to when I was a kid, and…
I don’t mind too much. Actually, it’s kinda nice.
“I wanted to be a scientist, and it didn’t work out. But if you don’t want to be a scientist…I don’t care. Knowing that you’re doing what you want is all I need. You should make decisions with your own happiness in mind, as opposed to some vicarious wish fulfillment centered on me.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I want you to stay in Austin.”
“You do?”
“Yes. When you were in Switzerland, Rue and I kept saying how much we missed you.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Not because we love you, or you’re fun to have around, mind you. But we do need someone to walk the dozens of dogs we’re in the process of acquiring. And to take care of the plants.” He grins. “Cheap labor.”
I nod. Hope warms my stomach. “So, we’re good?”
“We’re great.”
I smile. Eli does, too, pulling me in for a bear hug.
A throat clears. “Okay, well, I’m so happy that my accidental screw-up led to you guys having such a beautiful heart-to-heart, but—”
“Shut up, Paul,” Eli and I say.
This time, Conor joins in, too.