Chapter Twenty-Three
Susie
I raise my head from my Physics for Mechanical Engineering book when the phone rings. I wonder who would be calling after eight on a Friday night. Liz is out, but she said she’d be home early, and I believe her. Tomorrow’s homecoming, and we’ve prepared hard to make sure we perform well for the full stadium.
Reaching for the phone on the third ring, I stretch the cord back to sit on my bed. “Hello?”
“Susie, I’m so glad I caught you in.”
“Mom! Of course. Is something wrong? Are you and Dad still coming up tomorrow for the game?”
Guilt assails me because I haven’t gotten their tickets yet.
“That’s why I called. There’s a slight change of plans. Your dad has a job interview in California, and he has to fly out tonight, so he won’t be coming to the game. But don’t worry, I’ll be there. I called your Aunt Mabel; she’s coming with me.
“It’ll be good to see you.”
I pause while her news about Dad going to California loops through my head. “I’ll miss Dad. California. That’s?—”
“My fingers are crossed that he gets this job, Susie. He’s been out of work so long—almost a year.”
“You’d need to move to the west coast.”
“Naturally—”
“Would you sell the house? Maybe you could rent it.”
“I don’t know if we’d be able to afford that. Houses in California cost a lot more than in Connecticut… and we’ve spent most of our savings. But don’t tell your dad I told you.”
“I won’t,”
I say as my head spins until I feel nausea rise like I’m on one of those dizzying twirly rides at the amusement park that always made me sick as a child.
“We’ve gone through most of our savings.”
Mom volunteers more financial information than I asked for, almost like she needs to share it with someone. I hear the anxiety in her voice, so tight and fast. I wish she wasn’t sharing so much, but if she needs to talk about it, the least I can do is listen. No matter how sick it makes me to hear about it. I’m not a child anymore.
Mom is worried and afraid under her sunny exterior, and I need to do my best to comfort her.
“I bet the houses are nicer, and they all have pools,”
I say. “And you know Dad—it won’t take him long to move up the ladder to get a raise and a promotion.”
She laughs, and it sounds genuine. “Oh Susie, I love you. And you’re right—though he doesn’t have the job yet, so we can’t count on anything.”
Before I can think of what to say to that mixed warning, her sunny exterior returns.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow and going to the homecoming game. It’s been ages since I’ve been to a football game.”
I bite my lip, wondering if I’m a bad daughter because a part of me doesn’t want her to come. I don’t want her to see Liz, to find out that we’re best friends again. I don’t want to have to defend Liz to her. I don’t want to be disloyal and not defend Liz.
I’ve been hiding too many things from too many people, being dishonest with Mom in the name of privacy. Pretending things are fine when they’re not in the name of being optimistic. Most of all, hiding that I have feelings for Bryan from Liz. Shit.
“Are you sure you want to come without Dad? I’ll come home one day next week after class for a visit and skip my morning classes the next day.”
“Nonsense. Of course I’m coming. Your Aunt Mabel is very excited about the whole thing. I haven’t seen you in forever, and she’s looking forward to getting out for a change and seeing you.”
“I’m… not sure what kind of tickets I can get for you. Everyone on the squad wants tickets for this game.”
Not a complete lie. I haven’t even asked Pete for the tickets yet, so I have no idea where the seats will be. One more thing for my guilt to pile up until I feel like a terrible daughter.
“Don’t worry, Susie. We’ll be fine wherever we sit. The main thing is that I get to see my daughter cheer.”
A rush of longing rises against my crushing guilt, and the part of me is glad I’ll be seeing my mother in spite of my misgivings. Ignoring the worries about Liz and my dad’s new job and California, I resign myself to make the best of it and embrace my mom and dad and everything that goes with our financial circumstances and to embrace who Liz really is.
“Here’s Dad,”
Mom says. “Let me put him on the phone. He only has a few minutes. Love you, Susie.”
Liz comes in the door as Dad gets on the phone, ending my privacy. I stiffen my back.
She mouths, Who is it?
Instead of answering her, I say into the phone, “Hi, Dad.”
Liz smiles and says loud enough for him to hear her, “Hi, Professor. How are you doing? I miss your tutoring. Big hug.”
Dad laughs in my ear as Liz goes to her bed, opening a fat notebook with a pen in hand to work on whatever she needs to do to keep all the balls in the air above her head.
“Is that Liz McNeil?”
“Yes. Mom says you have a promising interview in California,”
I keep my voice quiet and turn away from Liz, letting the phone cord curl as I step to where the phone hangs on the wall.
“Yes, my second one for this job. I feel good about my chances.”
His voice is bright, and I don’t detect any cracks in his cautious optimism, so I smile.
“Of course you’ll get it. They’d be crazy not to hire you.”
“I think you’re right. But enough about me. What about you, Susie Q? How are your engineering classes going?”
My insides swirl around with nerves about telling him. I met with my advisor this week and officially made the changed from the School of Engineering to education. I know engineering would get me a better paying job, and I know Dad’s not going to like this. But I’m prepared for the consequences. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I take some deep breaths. Because I’m committed to being a teacher. It’s who I am, what I’ll be happiest doing.
On some level, I know how impractical it is. My advisor said there aren’t a lot of teaching jobs, and I’d need to go to grad school to be competitive. But the more she tried to discourage me, the more I dug in my heels. In the end, she signed off on the change from engineering to education, and I felt happy accomplishing that, about making my own decision.
Now it’s time to tell Dad about it and win his approval. Or maybe I should apply for student loans and hope to hell I get a job to pay for them.
“I switched my major, Dad.”
“You’re not in mechanical engineering—did you go for electrical instead? It does pay better these days?—”
“No. I switched out of engineering,”
I take a breath and rush my words before he can react. “I’m in education now. I want to be a teacher. I’ve been tutoring, and I’m good at it, and teaching makes me feel so fulfilled and good, and you said that?—”
“What kind of pay do teachers get? Will you get a job when you graduate?”
His voice is subdued, not admonishing but not encouraging, and I can feel the disappointment underneath.
“It depends. I can get certified in high school math and have a decent chance at a job, but…”
My words trail off in a guilty whisper.
“It doesn’t sound like the optimal choice, Susie.”
Now there’s a hint of censure in his voice, but he doesn’t say no. “You’d have to go to grad school for a good shot at a job. I’m not sure I can fund that right now.”
“I know, Dad. I’m prepared to work hard to get a scholarship or financial aid. My advisor said--”
“We’ll have to talk about it when I get back, when I know more about this job.”
He’s trying hard to dredge up support, and I’m grateful for even a sliver, though I feel shaky, rattled like I’m taking a big risk, walking out on a weak limb while my safety net has big holes in it.
My parents are struggling financially, and Dad is still jobless. I’m not going to ask them to help me anymore. I need to stand on my own instead of being an added burden. After a moment of excruciating silence, I force a reply. “Sure, Dad. We’ll talk later, but don’t worry about me. I’ll make things work.”
As soon as I hang up, Liz says, “Why is your dad worried about you?”
I blow out a breath. “I just told him I’m going to be a low-paid teacher instead of an engineer. He’s disappointed.”
“He’ll come around when he sees how good you are.”
She focuses on me, and neither of us says anything. I wonder what else she heard, whether she’s going to ask about California.
“I’m hoping to get a scholarship or grant or something for next semester. Or possibly a student loan.”
“I bet you will. Even if I didn’t have a full scholarship, I would have gotten student loans.”
She shrugs and smiles. “But you shouldn’t worry so much about that because I’m sure your parents will support you, even if it’s with their last dime.”
I flinch at her words because she’s right, and she sounds so wistful. She goes back to her notebook, flipping the page.
I guess she didn’t overhear anything about Dad’s job interview. Part of me wants to talk to her about it, but I can’t bring myself to dwell on my family’s issues right now. Besides, I would feel silly because whatever problems my family has, they’re trivial next to hers.
I turn away and mutter, “I guess it’s official, then. I’m on my way to becoming a teacher. Yay-ra-ra.”
She puts her notebook aside and gets up from her bed to sit next to me on mine. “Congratulations, Susie.”
She gives me a hug, not probing further, not questioning me or judging me, instead supporting me the best way she knows how with her arms around me and her big heart open.
I squeeze her back, telling myself I don’t care how troubled she is, how many problems she’s hiding or coping with as best she can, because she’s a good friend, a generous big-hearted person.
She smiles as she releases me. “It’ll be good to see your parents at the game tomorrow.”
I freeze for a sec, then regain my footing. “It’ll be my mom and Aunt Mabel. Dad can’t make it. He has something… work related to do.”
It’s not a lie. I’ll talk to Liz about California when I know more. Right now, I don’t even know what to say or what I think.
“My family’s not coming,”
she says matter-of-factly, and I can’t read what her emotions are underneath. I’d be more surprised if they did come, but I don’t say that.
She brightens, “I think Bryan’s mom is coming though.”
“You talk about him almost like he’s your brother sometimes,”
I say without thinking and totally inappropriately. What happened to my grace and poise? Or has Liz disarmed me with our friendship so much that I forget to filter what I say? I want to be able to say whatever I think to her. But definitely not when it comes to Bryan.
I’m hoping she can’t read the note of wishful thinking in my voice. But I desperately need clarification about their relationship because I get such a different story from Bryan. And deep down, I want to believe his side.
She laughs. “No way. He’s as far from brotherly as a guy can get. We slept together, remember?”
I feel her words like a slap in the face.
“More than once,”
she adds to make sure I get the picture. And I do, though Bryan gave me the impression it was a one-time-only event. Who do I believe?
If I believe, the picture I’m getting is that sleeping together—sex—means less to him than it does to Liz.
Swallowing down that knowledge makes me nauseous. But it’s something I need to digest fully and remember.
Because I’ve been thinking more and more about his confession that he wants to sleep with me. It would mean a hell of a lot more to me than a casual fling.
Now I suspect it wouldn’t mean anything more than a fling to Bryan.
And it would mean tossing my friendship with Liz out the window for a one-sided night in the sack with a guy I want more from than he wants to give me.
That would be an idiotic choice to make.
So why do I keep thinking about it? About him? He’s not the boy of my youthful dreams. He’s real and he’s flawed. He’s.
But he’s also tragically brave and exciting as hell, a broken man-boy. And that’s why I can’t resist him, why I’m compelled to want him, to make him smile. No matter how challenging it may be.