Dad cocks his head to the side. “Being good at cooking and making a career out of it are two different things. It’s a good skill. But there is no way a kitchen job can bring the same amount of success as an office job.”
Gavin’s face falls. My whole body deflates at the sight, as if it were my dream Dad was puncturing with his words. A protective rage bubbles in me.
“Success isn’t always defined by money, just like college doesn’t guarantee success,” I say encouragingly. Gavin has made so much progress following his dream that it kills me to think he might revert to following someone else’s. Gavin meets my eye and gives me a tight smile of appreciation. And because I feel like Dad isn’t completely convinced, I add, “Besides, there are plenty of successful people who didn’t graduate college. Bill Gates, James Cameron, Ralph Lauren…you.” Right after I say this, it’s crickets. Literally, the chirping of the insects from outside our non-dual-paned windows is the only sound we hear.
“But—but…that’s not how you win the game,” Dad stammers, referring to the instructions on the box. “It says here that the player with the most money wins. And going to college gives you a higher salary.” His face turns a shade darker, and we all know he’s not talking about the game anymore.
“Like you said, it’s just a game,” Mom reminds us. “Let’s try to have fun with it.” Probably sensing the tension rising, she spins the spinner and chooses the college path, effectively ending the debate about college.
It’s my turn next. And even though I’m over this game already, I spin and move my car to theGet Marriedspace.
“See, this is what I’m talking about. Which one do I give you now, blue or pink?” Dad scratches his head, staring at the pegs. “Pink, I guess?”
“How about no peg?” I suggest.
Mom, Dad, and Gavin crane their necks toward me, staring with the same look of confusion.
“No peg?” Dad’s brows furrow. “But how would that work?” He stares off like he’s trying to do mental math that doesn’t add up.
“Are you coming out to us?” Gavin asks.
“What? No.” I give him a look.
“Elena, it doesn’t matter what peg it is. You can pick whatever color you want,” Mom tries to reassure me.
“That’s just it. I don’t want another peg in the car seat next to me,” I say. And to clear up any further confusion, I add, “I don’t know if I ever want to get married.”
Gavin seems to be the most confused by that. “But every time you go out, you’re always with a different guy….”
“Exactly,” I point out. “I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. How do I know I want to commit myself to someone for life?” I shrug.
“Elena, don’t be silly.” Dad swats a dismissive hand at me. “Getting married and having kids is what women do. Just put a peg in the car. I don’t care what color it is.”
That’s what women do?
“Are you saying I can’t be a woman without a man?” I ask combatively.
“I’m not saying you can’t be a woman without a man, but what would you do if you didn’t get married?” He blinks at me with sincere curiosity.
This is a crushing blow. Worse than when he dismissed the culinary arts as a possible career option for Gavin. Did Dad learn nothing from our time here? Did he forget that it was my ingenuity that got him into the co-op? Is he not able to recognize the accomplishments of the women who run it? If this is how Dad truly feels, there’s no way he’ll recognize my potential.
Surprisingly Mom is the one who backs me up. “Elena hasa point,” she says, spinning the wheel for her turn. “She’s only seventeen. She doesn’t need to make any declarations now. In fact…” As Mom moves her car to theGet Marriedspace, she puts a pink peg in her car. “It would be nice to have a wife for once.”
Gavin and I exchange a glance. When it comes to taking sides, Mom is always on Dad’s, even when he’s being unreasonable. But her comment, subtle as it was, makes me feel like at least she’ll support me and Gavin when the time comes. The tension softens on Gavin’s face, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. Dad still seems confused by all of us, so by the time it’s Gavin’s turn to “Get Married,” he doesn’t comment on his choice when he picks a blue peg to match his pink one.
After that’s settled, we keep playing, taking turns moving through the path and snaking around the board. When it’s Gavin’s turn again, we watch in awkward silence as he moves his car, landing onSons and Daughters.
“I’m not sure Gavin is suited for kids,” I joke to lighten the mood. Only one person doesn’t find the humor in that.
“Of course he needs kids,” Dad insists. “The more the better. Says here, you get twenty-four thousand dollars per kid at the end.” He holds up the rules to show us.
I know it’s a game, but the way he says it sounds calculated and insensitive. As if children only add value if they are profitable.
When it’s my turn to land onSons and Daughters, Dad looks to Mom. “Gloria, your turn,” he says, expecting me to pass my turn. But I surprise him by putting a pink peg in the back row of my car.
“You can’t have kids. You don’t have a spouse,” Dad points out.
“Dale, what kind of statement is that?” Mom says, beating me to it. “Of course she can have kids.”
