“Oof,” Cessy agreed. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. But you explained, right? You told him it wasn’t on purpose?”
“Of course I did! Not that it made any difference. He’d already made up his mind at that point.” And I was over making excuses for him, frankly. If he wanted to spend the next four years nursing a seething resentment for someone he’d had twenty total interactions with, that was his problem.
“Well, fuck him, then,” Cessy said. “Hope he likes being lonely, if he’s gonna hold all potential friends or lovers to the same insane standards.”
“You’re such a girl’s girl,” I said, already grinning, and she nudged me in the arm with one elbow and said, “What’s the point of being anything else?”
I went on. “Seriously, though, I wish he’d get a grip. Like, why are you acting like you’re so amazing—you were probably literally born in a barn and think you’re going to be Glenn Gould? Be serious.”
“Goldie,” Cessy started, but I was too angry, too righteously offended at this point to stop.
“I mean, I’m sure he was top of his class at University of Hillbilly or wherever, but this is New York. You can’t just skate by on middle-class white-boy privilege; you have to actually, you know,be good.”
“Goldie.”
Fuck. He was right behind me, wasn’t he? Because apparently I lived in a bad movie, where I couldn’t even shit-talk someone without them conveniently overhearing.
I didn’t even want to turn around. I couldn’t look at him. Maybe if I just stood there long enough, staring at Cessy in silence, he’d go away.
No such luck.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Jamie said. “But looks like my University of Hillbilly training was every bit as good as Juilliard. We both ended up in the same place, didn’t we?”
I finally made myself turn—but he was already walking away, and I wanted to disappear, I wanted to die, I never wanted to be in the same room as that man ever again.
“Well, you fucked up,” said Cessy sagely, and…
Yeah. That just about covered it.
Present Day
“Did it occur to you that you might want to ask me before inviting somebody to stay over at our place for winter break?”
My dad and I are sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning, half-empty coffee mugs and banana bread crumbs between us. He’s been scrolling through the phone, reading theNew York TimesArts section like he does every Sunday, but he looks up for this, a line creasing between his eyebrows.
“Are you talking about that boy from your school?” he says.
“That’s exactly my point,” I say. “You don’t even know his name.”
“You’re doing your capstone with him. It’s Jamie, no?”
Fine. He does know Jamie’s name. But I refuse to let that deter me from making my actual point. “Yes. Jamie Larson. The one you said could come stay here with me,alone,all winter break. Without even asking me if that was something I’m okay with.”
That line between my dad’s brows deepens. “Is there something I should know here? Is he…do you feel unsafe being alone with him?”
“No,” I say almost immediately. “No, of course not! Jamie’s fine. He’s not…no. I’m not worried about that. It’s just that I kind of hoped to spend the break practicing for Stockholm, not hosting guests.”
My father takes another sip of his Americano and gives me one of those disappointed dad looks that never fail to make me feel as small and slimy as a snail. “He’s your capstone partner, and he’s going to be alone all break. It would be miserable for him to sit alone in that dorm room. Not to mention he’d have to play on a keyboard and not a proper piano, since the practice rooms will be closed. I’m sure he wouldn’t expect to be constantly entertained here. But if you really don’t want him to come, you can tell him we’ve changed our minds.”
Ugh.The only thing worse than Jamie coming would be having to look him in the eye and rescind my dad’s invitation.
“You’ve kind of put me between a rock and a hard place, here,” I say.
“This is a good opportunity for you to do somechesed.It’s your chance to show him what kind of person you are,” my father says. “Are you the kind of girl who opens her home to a lonely classmate during the biggest secular holiday of the year? Who gives her competition the best chance possible of succeeding at Stockholm, even if it makes it harder for her to win?” He taps his fingers against the edge of his coffee mug. “Or are you some other kind of girl?”
Dad 1, Goldie 0.
I guess Jamie is staying with us over winter break after all.
