“Because… because…” She hated how she tripped over her words, but she also didn’t know how to avoid it. She hadn’t planned on having this conversation yet, so she hadn’t had time to rehearse what to say, how to soften the surprise, so she just said it. “I’m going to Columbia Business School.”
He blinked. “You want to apply to business school?”
Oh God.
Her mouth opened, but it was another moment before she found the words. “I already applied. And I got in. I start in August.”
His brow furrowed while something dark and angry flashed across his face. “So let me get this straight. You can get mad at me for not telling you about Argentina, but you’re allowed to apply to business school behind my back?”
“It wasn’t behind your back,” she countered. “I just wanted to wait to tell you until I knew that it was a real possibility.”
“But why did you even apply?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“I weighed my options and decided that it would be a smart choice to get an MBA while I figure out what I want to do. You know I’ve been struggling with what to do after graduation, and after talking to my mom, I thought—”
“Right. Of course.” Freddie scoffed. “I should have known this was your mom’s idea.”
Anne hated how his voice sounded so sharp, so different from the deep warmth she was used to. She also hated how they were back here, at the point where so many arguments ended up: her mother. While Anne’s father, Walter Elliot, took little interest in her accomplishments, it was Bianca Russell who was always doling out opinions and advice. Freddie hated it. Yes, he had only met her once—and even that had been by accident—but he had heard enough stories about Bianca’s influence over Anne’s life to form his own opinion. Meanwhile, Bianca had her own thoughts about Freddie—his fantastical dreams about changing the world, his laissez-faire attitude toward planning for it, and how his mindset was so very different from Anne’s.
“You both can’t get what you want, you know,” her mother had said when Anne told her about Freddie’s dream to travel after graduation. “One of you will have to compromise for the other, and you don’t want it to be you.”
“What does that mean?” Anne had asked.
Bianca had just sighed, like she’d seen this movie before and knew how it ended. “Imean, you don’t come back from resentment, Anne. Don’t be afraid to be selfish.”
“But I don’t want to lose him if—”
“Trust me, if he really loves you so much, he’ll stay.”
Her mother spoke from personal experience—her marriage to Anne’s father had dissolved a decade before and Bianca had had numerous affairs since then. But Anne always reminded herself that she was nothing like her mother, even as her words still echoed in Anne’s head.
“It might have been her idea, but I’m not getting my MBA because my mother told me to,” Anne replied, pulling the Santa coat tighter around her shoulders.
“Then why the hell are you?” Freddie asked.
Because that’s what’s expected, she wanted to say.It’s what’s always been expected, and I don’t know who I am away from that.
“Because that’s what people do. They grow up and do the hard things, like go to college and get degrees that are applicable to the real world.”
“Who says we have to be like other people?” His expression had hardened, like he recognized the influence beneath Anne’s words.
“We don’t, but that doesn’t mean we have to be irresponsible, either,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is our future we’re talking about. That deserves time and attention and—”
“A plan?” he cut in, his tone biting.
The word jostled a familiar nerve deep in her chest. The one that always twinged when she was reminded of how different they were, when he made it sound like her meticulous nature was some sort of flaw.
“Yes,” she said. “Everything can’t be an adventure all the time.”
“Right,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I know what those plans look like. Some big job down on Wall Street that your parents will be able to brag about. A 401(k) and paid time off while you waitto eventually retire.” He shook his head. “That’s everyone else’s normal. But it doesn’t have to be mine. Or yours, regardless of what your mom says.”
Here we go again, she thought. She was working so hard to keep from screaming that her hands were fists at her side. Maybe that’s why they always avoided talking about the future—they always ended up here, at an impasse that was never resolved.
“Don’t punish me because you and I want different things,” she replied, keeping her tone measured.
“That’s the thing, Annie, I don’t know what the hell you want,” he bit back. “And neither do you.”
It felt like a physical blow. So sharp and swift that it severed something, a vital line that was suddenly limp.
