“Lots of coffee. And spite.” It’s amazing how caffeine and an immense desire to prove people wrong can really drive a person.
“I’m serious, Ellie. I’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep going like this.”
I shrug. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s not the first time I’ve had to juggle working several jobs and a bunch of different classes in my life, and it probably won’t be the last.”
Nicole shoots me an empathetic look. “And I’m guessing you still have to send money to your mom?”
Attending one of the most elite (and expensive) private universities in Boston has only been made possible due to a combination of scholarships, loans, and work study appointments. Finances were tight but manageable if I was only worried about myself. The main issue was also having to worry about my family.
Once my dad left, my mom picked up as many odd jobs as she could find. That left me to take care of my baby sister, Josie. Where I was quiet and often too scared to speak up for myself, Josie was loud, defiant, and a force to be reckoned with. She was also the best listener, despite being ten years old. I think she realized early on that since our mom was stretched to thin to handle our finances, that I would the primary caregiver emotionally. I may have been too young to pay the bills, but I was the one who made sure Josie was fed, got to school on time, and completed her homework. As soon as I was old enough to get a job and contribute to our family I did. While my mom still worked wherever she could, most of the gigs she found were part-time, or paid so poorly she was living paycheck to paycheck.
After my first semester at Westchester, I realized the only way I could afford to pay my own bills while still helping my mom was to pick up extra side jobs. Anything I made from nannying or tutoring was sent to my mom, while the work-study money I earned as a research assistant was mine. Most days it felt like the only thing that was mine was my research. The first place where I ever felt fully listened to and supported unconditionally.
“Of course I’m still sending money home. I want to help out and have the means to, so why shouldn’t I?” I felt a sense of responsibility to help make my mom’s life easier. Make Josie’s life easier.
“Do you think you could tell your mom that money is tight right now? “
My stomach drops at the thought. My relationship with my mom was a bit more complex than some, though very common amongst other second-generation immigrants. I was your classic angsty teenager grappling with the identity crisis that came with being raised by a Middle Eastern parent while growing up in American culture. As a kid, I would get annoyed having to translate my school documents for her or explain common phrases, jokes, and pop culture moments most other parents seemed to know. But the older I got, the more I understood the magnitude of all she had sacrificed in her life for me and my sister — immigrating to America, barely knowing the man she was marrying, and unable to speak any English when she first arrived. It was exceptionally difficult for her to land a job or even make friends. She was all alone and yet she persevered. The years after my dad had left my mom was like a candle that had been left on overnight — melted to the core with nothing much left of herself. Which is why I still sent money home to tide them over. And also called them every night to check in.
“I could….in theory tell my mom I can’t send money anymore. Maybe.”
Except it wasn’t just my mom I had to think about, it was also Josie. Leaving my little sister for college was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but I knew I needed to do it. I had never done anything for myself until I decided to go to Westchester. When it was time for me to start college, she assured me she was fine on her own. I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Nicole sighs, “I get it. It’s hard to feel like you’ll ever be ableto pay her back for all she’s had to sacrifice. It’s not just the money we have to think about.”
And this is why I loved Nicole. She understood me as a person, and she knew what it was like to feel the same pressures that I did. Nicole’s parents immigrated from Cuba when she was seven years old. I’d been assigned to show her around the school and the rest was history. Initially we bonded over our love for The Lion King and over time we connected over experiences other kids in our grade knew nothing about. Like the way we would translate bills and school documents as best as we could for our parents every night. Or how they would ask us to proofread any emails they had to send to their coworkers to make sure there weren't any major typos. The way you would feel everyone’s eyes on you in the grocery store whenever your parents spoke to you in their native language.
Our parents may not have been raised in the same country, but there’s a shared bond and understanding between most immigrants who left everything they had in hopes of making their children’s lives a little better. And a shared understanding among children of immigrants that our successes weren’t just made on our own— they were made off the sacrifices of our parents. We knew that one day we would be able to thank them for allowing us to have access to more opportunities than we could have ever imagined. One day their sacrifices would be worth it. One day they would pay off. Which is why it was so hard for me to tell my mother no. How could I when deep down I knew I wouldn’t have anything in my life if it wasn’t for her?
Nicole ends the silence that’s consumed our apartment. “Well if not this weekend, maybe we can have a girls night out next week? You and me are gonna paint the town red.”
“That sounds like a plan, but until then…” I trail off, my eyes catching on the stack of books and half-completed homework assignments.
“Until then, we figure out how to make it to the end of this week alive.”
“How many all-nighters do you think we’re going to have to pull?”
“Too many, Eliana. Too many.”
Chapter 8
Jake
“Are you feeling alright man? You were all over the ice today.” Adam pulls me aside after practice. Why he couldn’t have done this when we were stillinsidethe building as opposed to now having to stand in the frigid fall wind is anyone’s guess. But I suppose also shouldn’t complain too much about my friend wanting to check in on me.
“Yeah I’m fine. I think I’m just a bit nervous about bringing my grade up so I don’t get benched.” I whisper the final bit under my breath. Only he and Ollie knew how close I was to the chopping block and I didn’t want it to become a whole thing. Last thing the new kids on the team needed to hear was how one of their captains may be out for the rest of the season. “I have my first, or I guess a redo, of my first session today and it’s all I can think about.”
“You’ll be fine. I know things seem scary now, but your tutor will be able to help you get back on track and in a couple of months we’ll be holding up the NCAA championship trophy over our heads.” Adam gives me a small reassuring smileand I wish I had half of the confidence in myself that he had in me. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so nervous.
“You keep wishing that for us while I head out and make sure I’m not late this time.” I give him a small wave before I head toward the parking lot at the back of the arena.
Normally I walk to practice but after staying up all night trying to make sense of my homework, I decided to reward myself by sleeping in a bit today. By the time I make it to my car I see the only car left here belongs to Ollie. Judging from the very flat tire on the front of his car I can take a guess on how his day’s been going. “You need help changing out the spare? I have a toolkit in my trunk.”
Ollie looks up from his tire at the sound of my voice, his face in a tight grimace. “I’m afraid you’re looking at the spare.” He nods to the half-deflated tire. “I’ve been pushing off getting another one because money’s been a little tight lately and it looks like that decision finally bit me in the ass today.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ride back to Hockey House and we can call triple A to come fix this.” I unlock my G-Wagon and gesture for him to get in the passenger seat.
“I was actually on my way to the airport. I decided to go home for a few days since we don’t have a game this weekend. My grandpa’s getting older now and well…” He shrugs to release the tension in his shoulders. “I’ll just call an Uber.”
