I want you to work on whatever will make you happy. You’d be an asset anywhere you went.
He’d told me that the night he’d tried to get me to call his oldwork buddy, the one who ran one of GalacticSolutions’s competitors. The card with his info was still in my purse, tucked between my insurance card and a frequent-buyer card from my favorite bagel place.
You don’t know how to let someone love you because you can’t fathom it being real. You despise yourself, deep down, all the way to the core, and assume that everyone else should, too.
Oh God.
A black hole of realization swallowed me.
All my parents ever did was belittle my work. They wanted me to leave because they were embarrassed of me. They wanted me to keep my world small so I didn’t make any more costly mistakes. They wanted to constantly be in my business, so I never stepped out of line.
That was the treatment I’d gotten used to accepting from people who were supposed to love me.
That wasn’t love, though, was it?
No. It couldn’t be. Because Hudson was never once embarrassed of me. He took me seriously. He championed me. He listened to me. He trusted me. He encouraged my impulses. He suggested I leave BuzzCorp not because he resented my work there, but because he believed in my potential and my dreams of getting to space. He showed me, time and time again, that I wasn’t a failure. And even if I did botch things, I couldalwaysfix them.
Maybe he couldn’t say he loved me. Maybe hedidn’tlove me. Maybe we wouldn’t be together after all.
But he’dshownme what being loved felt like.
I’d changed so much since my last dinner with them. When I thought about the progress I’d made since I shrank from their every word, when I needed Hudson to stand up for me, I knew I could never go back. Hiding in my shell, protecting myself from the world and everyone whocouldlove me, was no longer an option. I could not be a lab creature, contained and chained to mywork. I could not be the Scout I was six weeks ago. I was a new creation, changed by my brief experiment with love.
“I could get a job,” I said, gently pushing back on my parents’ discourse. It came out more like a question than a statement, but still. It was a start. “If I wanted to.”
“You were blacklisted, honey. Your father’s right. No use in setting yourself a goal you can’t meet.”
“Exactly. As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re better off where you are.”
That was two years ago. Surely someone needed an engineer with experience, fresh ideas, and a (mostly) winning track record.
Hudson was right. My talent spoke for itself.
My parents talked around that problem, as though the blacklisting was an afterthought. Like I wasn’t evenenoughto get hired no matter what.
“But I’m…” I twisted my napkin in my hand, losing myself in the strange designs, distracting myself from the terrifying implications of standing up for myself for the very first time. “I’m really smart. And I’m good at my job. I’ve created bestselling products. I’ve made my customers happy. I’m a competent manager. BuzzCorp is lucky to have me. I think, you know, maybe,anybusiness would be lucky to have me.”
I’d been sabotaging myself, hiding myself, all because I was terrified of trying. Terrified of anything good happening.
My voice was very small. “I just haven’t tried.”
“Scout, really. Don’t be dramatic. Youknowyou can’t leave BuzzCorp. It’s silly to even discuss it. I’m sorry we ever brought it up.”
The double act continued, trampling over any intermission I tried to insert. “Besides, all you ever do is castigate us for not appreciating the, I’m sure, world-changing work you’re doing at your little sex toy operation. Why now, all of a sudden, are we public enemy number one for not thinking you can do better?”
I didn’t blame her for that last little snipe. No wonder she was taken aback. I’d always let them bully me, shove me in little boxes and throw away the key. Bowing and scraping and apologizing for things that weren’t my fault, doing their bidding no matter what they asked, picking up the checks and dropping my ego at the door.
Of course they would be surprised when I showed the tiniest hint of a spine.
“You really don’t think I could do anything else?” I asked.
I made that small distinction.Anything else, not better. Buzz Corp was wonderful. I just wondered…was it not for me anymore? And more than that, if I succeeded in selling The Fantasy to the masses, in making the next leap in sex toy innovation, hadn’t I achieved my objectives there? What more could I accomplish?
I still had my dreams of space. So much there I still wanted to do. Maybe it was time to try and go back to it.
My mother grew tired of this back-and-forth. “My dear. We gave you everything a girl could ask for. We got you into the best programs, the best schools, took you across the world to further your progress. There’s no doubt that you’re smart. But businesses—the businesses you left behind—need strong, straightforward, clear-minded people at their helm. Not silly little girls who let their vaginas think for them. Come to think of it, youarein the right profession. It’s the only one that suits you.”
“That’s not fair.”
