“Of what?”
Reeti shrugged. “Maybe that I’ll become too conservative and marry some mama’s boy and spend the rest of my life waiting on my husband’s family. Or maybe I won’t be conservative enough, and I’ll piss off some patriarchal arsehole who basically thinks women shouldn’t even learn to read, and I’ll be attacked walking to the train.”
“Does that worry you?”
“I’m not attracted to mama’s boys. Or scared of arseholes, really. But I am terrified of disappointing my parents. I am a complete coward where they are concerned.”
Her admission felt like a present, a piece of herself given in exchange for my earlier confession about Gray. Like she was trusting me with her truth, too. “Or you love them,” I said.
“That, too. What about your parents? Are they happy you are studying in Ireland?”
Unbidden, a memory rose of the scene at the airport, Em’s face and Henry’s hug as they said good-bye. I took a sip of tea towash down the lump in my throat. “My mother died when I was twelve. I never knew my father.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t like I was raised by wolves or sent to an orphanage or anything. My sister and I—I have a younger sister, Toni—we went to live with my aunt and uncle. My mother’s brother.”
“But still... You were only twelve. I bet that was an adjustment. For everybody.”
I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t think about it—or our mother—very often.
“Yes.” The word fell hard and sharp like an ax. An echo of Tim Woodman. To soften it, I smiled and added, “At least I never had to worry about disappointing them.”Because they never wanted me in the first place. “As long as I did my chores, they pretty much left me alone.”
Reeti shook her head. “Amazing.”
“It’s not that they didn’t care,” I said, driven to defend them. “But farm life isn’t easy.” Uncle Henry got up early every morning and was out until dusk—tilling, planting, harvesting in season—sun, work, and worry carving furrows in his face until he resembled the land he lived on. Aunt Em kept the books and the house, paid the bills, and fed us and the farmhands. I helped where I could, collecting eggs and cleaning the chicken coop, weeding the dusty vegetable patch by the house, picking flowers for the kitchen table where Toni and I did our homework. But nothing I did was enough. “By the time Toni and I got dumped on them, they’d given up on the whole idea of children.”
“No, I meant... You’re amazing. Here I am, with every advantage, complaining because I have two loving parents and a guaranteed future and I’m afraid to even tell them what I want. And you have no mother and a shit boyfriend who humiliates youin his stupid book, and you’re still going after your dream. You’re very brave.”
“But I’m not. I have, like, zero confidence.” Not in myself. Not in my judgment. Not even in my writing.
“And yet, here you are.”
Her unexpected generosity stung tears to my eyes. “Here we are.”
She raised her cup. We clinked. “You need to believe in yourself,” she said.
I gave a watery chuckle. “I’d settle for Dr.Ward believing in me.”
“The witch,” Reeti said darkly into her mug. “You should change instructors.”
I looked at her in sudden hope. Maybe she was right. Maybe all I needed was a different teacher. And a place to live that didn’t charge for the minibar.
“I’ll talk to Dr.Norton tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe she’ll let me switch sections or something.”
But tonight... I settled into my chair. Tonight, I’d revealed something about myself to someone. And instead of being embarrassed or rejected, I felt... seen. Accepted. I curled my hands around the mug, warming myself on the thick china and an unfamiliar sense of freedom.
I snuck another peek at the poet behind the counter.
Tonight, “here” wasn’t a bad place to be at all.
SIX
The apartment was a dud.
Reeti had warned me. “Sheriff Street?” she said when I showed her the card thumbtacked to the notice board. “You don’t want to live there. That’s a super dodgy neighborhood.”
I smiled. “Let me guess. Your mother sent you a link with crime statistics.”
