26. THE ONE WITH THE IVY LEAGUE #3
“Holy shit. I knew you were out of my league, but I didn’t know it was the fucking Ivy League,” I blurt and then laugh, watching her study me.
“You’re a mathematician with an MBA from Harvard?
” She’d told us what her qualifications were, but has somehow skimmed over the part where her degrees had come from THE Harvard University.
“Not a mathematician, per se, just someone with a math degree… and an MBA… from Harvard.” She gives me a coy smile, choosing the humble route.
My mouth falls open again, and I bet I look like a gaping fish while I try to find words. Any words. A single word. Say a fucking word, West.
“How?” I finally find something bouncing around in my brain, grasping onto it as I close the distance between us, and we begin to walk again.
I don’t watch where I’m going. I watch Joey.
“Spite.” Her answer isn’t what I thought it’d be. “And like, a lot of fucking hard work, but mostly I just wanted to prove to my mother and all the other people around me that just because she was a fuck up who failed herself, didn’t mean I was destined to follow in her footsteps.”
Every new piece of information I learn about her shocks me more than the last.
“You said your grandma raised you?” I ask, hoping it will get her to continue opening up and not do the complete opposite—clam up and keep all her secrets locked away.
She grabs my arm and stops me from walking through an intersection without looking.
“My mom was an addict but got sober for a few years after I was born. We moved to Georgia to live with her boyfriend. He was a good guy, but the year I started Kindergarten, she started using again. He kicked us out, and from there we bounced from one boyfriend’s house to the next until my grandpa passed.
We went home to Florida for the funeral, and thankfully, somehow, Grams convinced Mom to stay and get clean.
” The crosswalk changes, signaling us to walk. I stay quiet, letting Joey continue.
“She never did, coming and going for a few years until eventually she stopped calling and visiting altogether. The last time I saw her, she randomly showed up for my birthday party after not seeing me for months, drunk off her ass, coming down from whatever it was she was on at the time, and asked all my friend’s parents for money.
It’s the one and only time Frankie’s met her.
” She lets out a long breath. “Harvard started as a joke to myself, but then turned into my answer when anyone asked what my plan for the future was. It wasn’t until eighth grade I realized it was an actual possibility.
” Joey fiddles with the hem of her sweater’s sleeve.
“I thought once I got in I’d stop feeling like I wasn’t good enough, but I never did, and then I met Dylan, and well…
” Her strained laugh is wrong, and I never want to hear it again.
“He’s a story for another time.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t light her face up like it should.
“Anyway, sorry I’m not your sexy astronaut fantasy. ”
Oh, Joey, you’re so much better than some stupid joke I made to get you to laugh.
I had—have a loving family. A mom who would move mountains for her children. A dad who raised boys with compassion and determination.
“Well, I think you’ve proven yourself and then some.
” It’s not only the logical thing to say, but even with what little I know about the real Josette Daniels, I can say one thing for certain: she’s not a fuck up.
“But when was the last time you did something because you wanted to? Not because you wanted to prove yourself or someone else wrong?”
I’ve learned a lot about myself in therapy, about what my motivations used to look like versus now.
I do comedy because it makes me happy, but it also makes others happy.
Making other people laugh reminds me why I got off Enzo’s couch in London, why I did something that made me uncomfortable and unknown.
Joey slows her pace as we approach the coffee shop. I can’t help but hope it’s because she doesn’t want this fleeting moment between us to pass either.
“Hex. She’s the only thing I’ve ever let myself have simply because I wanted it.” Her gaze falls to the crack in the sidewalk below her feet. “Now I’m worried that because everyone knows who she is, who I am, the illusion’s gone, and I’ll lose her.”
We stop outside the coffee shop, the sound of the bustling city and the jingle of the bell hanging from the door as someone exits with a warm drink reminding me there’s a world around me. “They can only take what you let them have, Joey.”
I see the moment Joey slips away, getting lost inside her head. Her eyes zone out, and she starts to nibble on the inside of her lip. When she blinks, it’s gone, her focus shifting back to me. “I guess we’ll see how much of a fight I’m willing to put up this time.” She reaches for the front door.
I beat her to it, holding it open. She gives me a curt smile as a thank you.
She’s fighting against the insecurities in her head telling her she’s not good enough. That she’s never been good enough.
Well, Joey baby, I think it’s time someone other than your best friend be louder than those insecurities.