“Just… some colleges.”
“Colleges!” Why am I surprised? If we’d stayed in Princeton, we would have definitely been thinking about colleges by now. We would have gone on campus visits and had a meeting with his high school college counselor. It’s just that our life here feels sodifferent. William has been completely self-directed in his learning, and he’s been working for the forestry department since January. Colleges pretty much fell off my radar. “Okay,” I say, a beat too late. “Great.”
He grimaces. “Really?”
“Of course, really, William.” I turn to him, cradling my mug in my hands. “Why wouldn’t it be great?”
“Well…” He glances down, seeming hesitant. “I mean, I couldn’t work and go to college. Not like I am now, anyway.”
Almost instantly, a lump forms in my throat, impossible to swallow past. It takes me a few seconds to answer. “William… I would much rather you went to college than worked forty hours a week at sixteen or seventeen years old. You’re smart. You’remotivated. College could be a very good choice for you.” I hate the thought that he didn’t want to tell me because he was afraid ofdisappointingme by not being able to work to support our family. If Josh could hear him, he’d likely be both furious and maybe even in tears. We never wanted our children to feel this burden of responsibility… and yet at the same part of me is proud that William does.
“I know, but…” He glances at me uncertainly, his hair sliding into his eyes the way it has since he was a little boy. “College is expensive. I mean, ridiculously expensive.”
“Trust me, know.” When we were looking at colleges for Bethany, before she had her little blip, I was reeling from the price tag, which was well into six figures for four years. And that was when affording it was at least in the realm of possibility.
Now it is not.
“There is such a thing as student loans and financial aid, especially for hillbillies from the backwoods of West Virginia.”
He smiles at that, the way I wanted him to, but he still looks worried. “I don’t know…”
“You don’t need to decide anything now, do you? You’re only at the end of eleventh grade.”
“Sanjay’s graduating early,” he tells me. “He’s applying early to MIT this fall.”
“Sanjay is?” Sanjay is William’s chess buddy from Princeton, who came to visit us last summer. “I didn’t realize you were still in touch with him.”
William gives me a baffled look, as if I just said something incomprehensible. “Why wouldn’t I be? He was my best friend back in Princeton.”
“Right, I know.” I haven’t been in touch with many of my Princeton friends, I acknowledge somewhat uncomfortably. I haven’t so much as texted Kerry since New Year’s, and as for the others… they’ve pretty much all fallen by the wayside. I’m gladWilliam has hung onto his friends, even if I haven’t managed to do the same with mine.
“Anyway,” he resumes, “I’m taking my GED next week,” he says, another surprise because the last time we spoke, he was going to take it at the end of the summer.
“Nextweek? But William, why so early? You have plenty of time.” I have no idea how he fits it all in or why he’s making all these plans without discussing any part of them with us. If he’d asked, I would have told him to take a little more time, not burn the candle at both ends. But teenagers have a way of deciding their lives without reference to their parents, who clearly don’t know anything, anyway.
“I just want to get it done,” he says with a shrug. “Put it behind me.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I say slowly. “Where are you taking it?”
“Buckholt. Bethany said she’d drive me.”
“William, I can drive you.” I can’t help but feel like I’m being cut out of my kids’ lives, just a little, and it hurts.
“You’re busy,” he replies, then gentles what feels like an accusation with a smile. “It’s okay.” His smile widens. “What I really need to do is get my driver’s license. So, if you want to help, how about you take me driving tonight, for practice?”
“Done.” I am heartened that he asked, even if I suspect it might be because Bethany refused. Plus, she probably hasn’t had her license long enough to supervise. Still, I’ll take it.
I turn to the fridge to figure out what to make for dinner; we’re on the last of our meat chickens, and Bethany isn’t the only one who needs to stock up on groceries, despite my trip on Sunday. It’s amazing how fast the food goes around here.
Just then, my dad comes into the kitchen, an expectant yet hesitant look on his face that makes me tense.What now?
“I won’t be here for dinner,” he announces.
William does a double-take while my jaw drops. My dad isalwayshere for dinner.
“Oh?” I ask as casually as I can. “Where are you going?”
“Jolene’s having me over to her place.”
