“So you’re going to throw away your whole life here just on theoff chance you’ll find something better?” He stands up and takes two angry steps away from me, dragging a hand over his face. “For fuck’ssake. I know things have been a bit hard lately, with that lady breaking her hip and the museum stuff—”
“Yeah, they have been hard,” I snap.
“—but I thought you’d decided you were going to make a go out of your caregiving business. Or was that just a second-rate fallback plan too?”
“I—no. Not exactly.” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Why are you making this so hard? It’s not like this means wehaveto break up—we could do long distance, it’ll only be for two or three years—”
He scoffs. “Only two or three years? You’re telling me you’re going to get a fancy museum degree and do a prestigious museum internship, and then after all that, you’ll come back here to Waldon to live happily forever? Comeon.”
I hug my arms around myself, frustrated tears pricking at my eyes. He’s right. Of course he’s right. If I do this, my goal is to end up working full-time at a museum in a city like New York or London.
“This is mydream,” I say tightly. “Can’t you understand that? This is what I’ve wanted, for as long as I can remember.”
“As long as you can remember?” he repeats acerbically.
“Oh, don’t do that,” I snap. “The museum bit is new, fine, but I know that it’s what I want to do. I’m not like you, John. I can’t be happy withsettling.”
“Oh, good,” he says. “This again.”
“Yes!Thisagain. You aren’t happy, John. Not as happy as you could be.”
“Oh, what? Because I should have been a rich, stressed-out businessman like my father? Or a burned-out doctor like my mother? Grow up, Emily. Just because you think my job is beneath you—”
“I don’t think it’s beneath me!” I throw back. “But you don’t like it as much as you pretend to. You say you know me, well, I know you too. You’re bored with all the stuff Fred makes you do, but you don’t have the guts to stand up to him, or leave the shop to start something up on your own, doing the things you want to do—”
John is shaking his head back and forth dismissively—I’m not sure he’s even listening to me.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “I know you think I’m a snob, that my dreams are idealistic and stupid, but you know what? I don’t care. Ifinallyhave a job I can see myself doing forever, and to do it in New York City—to intern somewhere like the Met—” I throw my hands up incredulously. “Do you really expect me to turn all that down?”
He stares at me for one long, painful moment.
“I would have,” he says. “Yeah.”
My heart is beating loudly in my ears. My anger is fading, replaced by something ugly and painful. “Well... I can’t. If I got in... I’m going to go. And if I didn’t...” I shake my head, and two hot tears slip down my face. I give a rough shrug. “I guess you’re saying we’ll break up either way.”
He stares at me incredulously, and for a moment I feel like we’ve been transported back in time, to when we didn’t understand each other at all.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “I guess I am.”
A silence falls, so heavy and painful I can hardly stand it. Theonly sounds are my uneven breathing and the glug of the fish tank behind me. Ten minutes ago, we were laughing and making jokes. Now—now—
I wipe the tears from my face and pick up my phone. I open my inbox, and I don’t have to look beyond the email previews to know. The answer is in the first three words of each email.
Dear Emily. Congratulations.
Thump-thump, goes my heart in my chest.
“Did you get in?” John asks.
I nod stiffly.
“Both of them?”
Another stiff nod.
“Well,” he says. “Congratulations.”
The word is a barb, hot and sharp in my heart.
