My parents still don’t know she’s here.
It feels wrong, hiding something from them, but I also know how they’d react if they knew we were hanging out. Maybe they wouldn’t say anything outright, but they’d give each other a look, and the disappointment would drip off their words. I’m not sure what they expect me to do, though. She’s my sister, and I love and miss her. I want to spend time with her. And maybe knowing we have this time together, without our parents’ interference, makes it even more special.
“They smell amazing,” I say, capping my pen and sitting forward on the couch. I grab one with a napkin and take a bite. “Oh, man. And they taste amazing, too.”
“Right? I used avocado instead of butter.”
I raise my brows at her.
“It’s not that weird,” she says. “You said you liked them before you knew.”
“True.”
Annie grabs a brownie for herself and sits back on the couch. “Do you need to grade? Am I bothering you?”
“Not at all.” I nod at the stack of papers. “I have a couple more days until grades need to be turned in. I can work more in the morning. Let’s hang out.”
“Okay.” The grin on her face reminds me of mine. Looking at Annie is like looking in a funhouse mirror. There are so many similarities in our features—especially when it comes to the color of our hair, eyes, and skin—but she keeps her hair short and wears the brightest colors she can find. It’s me, but the highly caffeinated version.
“How was your visit at the fabric company?” I ask.
She sighs dreamily. “Amazing. They love my designs, and I love their fabric. They had me feel samples, and they showed me a yard of what my own design would look like. And then they showed me a mockup of my design as a dress for a little girl. It’s a dream come true.”
“That’s so cool,” I say. “I’m really happy for you.”
She grins at me. “Thanks.” She takes a sip of her tea, then looks down at her mug, holding it close in both hands. “It’s one of those things that I feel like I need to prove to you guys. That I made the right decision in turning down the ‘family business.’” She scoffs and looks at me. “Not like I had a choice. I couldn’t do math even if my life depended on it. That section of the Pig or Rat Theorem nearly killed me.”
“Pythagorean Theorem,” I correct, then let out a laugh. “I remember Mom sitting with you at the table, then tapping out and giving Dad a turn. They kept saying it over and over, ‘A squared plus B squared equals C squared,’ and you were like?—”
“‘There’s no squares, just triangles!’” She laughs out loud, setting her tea down so it won’t spill. “Trust me, I remember that, too.” She sighs, the smile still on her face. “I’m such a disappointment to them.”
She says it so lightly, it’s at odds with the words she speaks. I can’t imagine ever feeling so flippant about disappointing our parents. Everything I say or do is a reflection on them, and I want to make them proud of me.
“Does that bother you?” I ask. “Knowing they’re disappointed in you?”
She presses her lips together, thinking for a moment. “It used to. I used to feel like I failed them.”
“But it doesn’t bother you anymore?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not something I did to hurt them, you know? I tried to like math. But it’s notme.And when I realized they were trying to fit me into this little mold that matched what they wanted, I knew I needed to find my own path. It wasn’t up to them to decide my future, and they were still trying to push me in that direction without caring about what I wanted. Don’t get me wrong—I love them, and I’m grateful for them. They’re great parents, and I think they really did their best with us. But that doesn’t mean I want to BE them. You know what I mean?”
Hearing it come from her mouth makes it all sound so…logical. This whole time, I’ve blamed her for following her emotions and disregarding all of our feelings.
But I was also there when she left. I know how much it hurt everyone. And I know that I never wanted to do the same to my parents, so I’ve just fit myself into their little mold.
I take a sip of my tea. “I guess it worked out that I’m just like Mom and Dad, then.”
Annie fixes me with a stare, then tilts her head. “Are you, though?”
“I mean, yeah. Of course. I love math, and I love teaching, just like them. What else is left?”
“I don’t know, just your personality and your interests. Are you the same as all the other professors at work?”
My mind runs through my coworkers—Shawna, Christopher, Liam, Andy. I’m not completely like them. We have some things in common, but our overall personalities are very different.
And then there’s Ryan.
In a lot of ways, Ryan and I are complete opposites. But when it comes to our personalities—the things we enjoy, the things that make us laugh—we’re more compatible than I should probably admit.
