Maybe Cricket is right. Maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think.
She swings her leg over mine and switches to her stomach so that she’s facing me. “It’s okay to experience joy, Charlie. It isn’t a crime.”
“It isn’t that.” I can’t explain this to her without revealing more about myself than I’m comfortable with. “If I acknowledge that I’m enjoying myself, that I feel happy, then that increases the odds that something bad will happen to take it all away.”
“You’re superstitious?”
“Not quite. It’s more that if I let myself feel joy, the more it will hurt when it ends. If I don’t let myself experience the high…”
“No high means no low. Got it.”
“When I was a kid, the second my parents saw that I enjoyed something, it became a skill to master.”
“Like baseball?”
I nod. “And if I wasn’t deemed good enough, then it was taken away. Doing something simply for the fun of it—that isn’t the Thorpe way.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I’m stuck on the fact that Charlie Thorpe was bad at something. Is that true?”
“Not really,” I admit. “I wasn’t bad at anything, but that’s not the same as being the best. The bar was so high, I’d get neck cramps from always looking up.”
She doesn’t laugh. Instead, she says, “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard for you.”
“I liked boats when I was younger. Canoes. Kayaks. Anything on the water.”
“You were a different person in the water last night,” she agrees, “in the best possible way.”
“My parents saw that spark of joy and immediately turned it into a measurable achievement.”
“They bought you a yacht?”
I snort-laugh. “Close. They made me join crew. Up at the crack of dawn and out on the water to practice rowing. I avoided boats for years after that.”
She threads her fingers through mine. “Couldn’t you have said no?”
I try to imagine a scenario where I told my parents no. “My father is a very persuasive man.” If bullying can be considered persuasive. And my mother leans toward manipulation to get her desired outcome.
“How did you get out of rowing?”
“Same way I got out of baseball.”
“Didn’t they hold college tuition over your head?”
“Oh sure. That was definitely a topic of conversation, but I knew they wouldn’t let me drop out of college. It would tarnish the family image. Anything to avoid a scandal.”
“Was law school your idea or theirs?”
“I thought it was mine for a long time.” I pause to reflect. “Lately I’m beginning to see that none of it was about me. Or at least about what I wanted.”
“They wanted you to succeed on their terms and you wanted their validation.”
“More that I didn’t want to lose it.” I can’t believe I’m sharing all this with her. I don’t talk about my family—the real version of it. Everyone thinks the Thorpe family is picture perfect because they’ve worked hard to cultivate that image. Social media only adds to the pressure to keep up appearances. Each post is carefully curated before it’s allowed to see the light of day. I’m fairly certain my brother still sends his posts to my mother for approval before he dares to share them. A world-class surgeon terrified of disappointing his parents by having a hair out of place.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this again, but I don’t get the sense you’re happy in your other life, Charlie.” She rests her head on my shoulder and smiles up at me. “But this one seems to suit you. I wish you’d embrace it.”
“I want to.” I really, really do. But it’s hard to overcome thirty-five years of conditioning in a week or two.
“You may be an introvert, but you have a knack for bringing people together and creating a community, a sense of camaraderie. I admire that about you.”
