Minnie had laughed, like always, and promised.
“I need to teach you how to live in the real world,” Kendall had said. “You’re going to be CEO of a major company one day. Yes, sir. Nobody can say I’m not a feminist, right?” He’d laughed, and Minnie had laughed along with him, blushing at the idea ofherself at the head of a boardroom, wearing a suit jacket, her hair in a glossy bun. During this fantasy, she’d imagined herself glancing out the window of the boardroom to find her mother down below, waving a poster and protesting whatever they were up to in the boardroom. She’d shivered.
Now, weeping after her breakup with Gavin, Minnie abandoned her bike and walked the neighborhood, unsure of what to do with herself or where to go. Her phone dinged almost constantly with text messages from classmates, many of whom blamed her for her mother’s article. “Your mom ruined my family” seemed to be the constant refrain. Minnie tried and failed to compose messages back to illustrate how little she’d known about her mother’s plan.
As the hours went on, Minnie’s heart cracked deeper and deeper. She was beginning to understand that her life as she’d known it till now was over. She could forget about prom. Gavin was probably going to take Sarah Anderson or Jemima Plant, girls Minnie had caught him flirting with during their six months as a couple. She imagined them kissing after the dance and cried harder, working herself into a panic.
Not for the first time since she’d learned about the article, she tried to call her father, but his phone went straight to voicemail. She texted him to say that he could trust her; that she wouldn’t tell anyone where he was. But the text didn’t send, either. She felt cut off from the only person in the world who loved her, who truly cared.
What was she going to do?
Eventually, Minnie knew she had to go home. All of her friends hated her, and she knew they wouldn’t welcome her into their homes. She saw all the lights lit up at her place from the far end of the street, and she went toward them, feeling as though she was walking the plank. What would she say to her mother?
When she reached the porch steps, she found her mother sitting at the table out front, her eyes enormous and watchful. There were two pizza boxes, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of soda in front of her. Minnie understood that her mother had been waiting out here, watching for Minnie, for a long time. Maybe hours. She could already guess she’d ordered Minnie’s favorite kind of pizza, with feta cheese and black olives.
As though a pizza could fix anything.
Minnie wanted to scream at her mother. She wanted to ask her why she’d ruined her entire life. But as she mounted the steps, her hands tightening into fists, a look of fear flickered over Hannah’s face. Minnie stopped short. It felt like a face-off.
“Why don’t you sit down, honey?” Hannah said, her voice overly sweet.
Minnie shrugged. But eventually, her mother pulled out the chair beside her and all but demanded it. Minnie went around the table and sat gingerly on the chair. Her teenage hunger boiled in her gut. She hadn’t eaten all day. She wanted to open the pizza box and inhale three slices. But she had to maintain her sense of “adultness” in front of her mother.
“Today was a difficult day for both of us,” Hannah said firmly. “I know that it hasn’t been easy for you. And I’m sorry about that. But I can’t apologize for doing what I felt was the right thing.” Hannah swallowed, hesitating. “When I began my research, I never imagined your father was involved in any of it. I never imagined it would tear our family apart. And, it’s important to say, Josh was fully onboard with the article, all the way up till this morning.”
Minnie knew that Josh was her mother’s newspaper editor. He’d served as a sort of uncle figure for Minnie over the years. He’d given her an old-fashioned typewriter for her birthday. She’d always liked him.
“But Josh called a little while ago to tell me that I’m fired,” Hannah said, a soft smile playing over her lips.
Minnie’s ears rang with shock. “Fired?” She couldn’t believe Josh had turned his back on her mother like that, especially after agreeing to the article in the first place.
Not that Minnie supported the article.
“Apparently, the powers that be are putting pressure on him. They said either he’s fired, or we’re both fired,” Hannah went on. “I told him that I’d pack up and leave. There’s nothing left in Miami for you and me anyway. Not now.”
Minnie wanted to howl with anger. She thought she was going to throw up. “Was it really worth it, Mom?”
Hannah flared her nostrils but said nothing.
“Miami is our home!” Minnie cried. “Where are we supposed to go?”
Hannah rubbed circles into her temple, the way she did when she was getting a migraine. “We’ll figure it out, Minnie,” she murmured.
But Minnie didn’t want to talk to her mother a moment longer. Terrified of what awaited them after this, terrified of what else her mother would put her through, Minnie took one of the pizza boxes and her bottle of soda and went upstairs to her bedroom. There, she sat on the floor, ate cheesy slabs of pizza, and cried.
3
Hannah couldn’t believe she’d lost her job. After fifteen years at the newspaper, fifteen years as Josh’s right-hand woman and friend and confidant, Hannah was forced to step away. That night, minutes after Minnie had stormed upstairs, sitting on the front porch with a glass of wine and an uneaten pizza, Hannah allowed herself, momentarily, to pretend that she hadn’t pursued that story, that she hadn’t published the article, that she hadn’t pushed Kendall out of her life, that everything could remain the same. But that wasn’t honest, she knew. And if there was one thing she cared about—as a journalist, as a woman against capitalistic greed, as a feminist, and as an environmentalist—it was the pursuit and revelation of truth.
Hannah knew there were numerous things to do. She had to talk to a lawyer, hire a real estate agent, figure out how to divorce Kendall, who wasn’t to be found, and start looking for new jobs. Minnie was right that Miami was the only home they knew, but she was wrong to think that they couldn’t start over somewhere else.
The big question was where? Hannah went through her mind’s catalog of potential places, considering all the cities and states she’d ever fantasized about. She and an old boyfriend had dreamed of California, of Hollywood and glam and palm trees and glorious sunsets over the Pacific. But when Kendall had taken her there on vacation a few years ago, Hannah had hated the traffic, she’d hated that everything was even more expensive than in Miami, and she’d hated the smog that filled the streets and made her cough. Plus, she didn’t want Minnie to grow up in a place that capitalized on women’s beauty, first and foremost, rather than their intelligence.
Where else? Hannah took out a slice of pizza and ate it, furrowing her brow. Growing up, Hannah had enjoyed the coziness of small-town living. She’d enjoyed the slower pace and how everyone knew everyone. Everyone had watched out for and kept tabs on one another. Her small town had been in Ohio, surrounded by cornfields and boring highways. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to go back to Ohio. She didn’t have any family left there, and she didn’t like the feeling of going backward in time, rather than forward.
When it came to her career, she decided she could go anywhere. She could freelance, or write longer-form articles, or maybe write the book she’d been planning in the back of her head for ten years. Miami had been a rat race, a place where she and Kendall had been at odds, trying to prove themselves. But without Kendall in her life, Hannah could breathe again.
Hannah wondered if she’d ever be able to explain any of this to Minnie. Maybe, when Minnie was in her twenties, she’d begin to understand the poison in Hannah and Kendall’s relationship. Maybe she’d understand that the true villain of the story was Kendall—not her mother.
