“Oh, like the juice,” I say.
“I suppose.” He gives me a look. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
“New Brunswick.”
“I see.”
Someone comes to join our conversation. It’s the girl who came to the café with Dalton a few months ago. Her name is Cornelia, and her family owns a couple art galleries in Hoboken. I only know this from an article I found on the school’s website. She tilts her glass at me and says, “I know you ... Aren’t you the guy who works at the sandwich place?”
“It’s a café,” I correct her.
Julius looks at me. “You work at a café?”
“Just a few times a week.”
“Is it like a form of punishment or do you just really like coffee?” Cornelia smiles and takes a sip of her drink.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “Like last summer, my parents made me give swim lessons to my cousin fortalking backto them. They thought it would help me build character. All that happened was my cousin almost drowned and now she’s afraid of water.”
“No one’s forcing me.”
“So it’s just for fun or what?”
I can’t tell if she’s trying to embarrass me. I consider giving an honest answer to see what she has to say about it. Then I remember something my mom said. She spent most of her life working for wealthy families and learned how to behave around them. One thing she told me was, “Never tell them how much harder we work. They don’t pity people like us. They will never see you as an equal. Even if you work your way to the top, they will think you stole it from them. So always keep it to yourself, because some of them will use it against you.”
I still don’t truly understand this. But she spent more time in these circles than I have. So I make up an answer. “It’s a management position.”
“For a high schooljunior?”
“My uncle owns it,” I lie. “He’s showing me how to ... run a business.”
Cornelia looks at me and says, “Dalton told me your mom used to be a maid at his family’s hotel.”
This catches me off guard. I didn’t realize anyone else knew this. Not that it was meant to be a secret. “She was the housekeeping manager,” I say.
“Sorry. Didn’t realize there was a difference.”
We stare at each other. But I don’t say anything back. I’ve never been ashamed of my mom and what she did to take care of us. Cornelia smiles and turns her attention to Julius. Thankfully, the conversation moves to something else.
I finish my drink, which I use as an opportunity to get another one. I look for Dalton again, but he’s gone. He must have stepped into the kitchen or something. So I join another circle of people and introduce myself.
Most of them have known Dalton since freshman year. They talk about the places they traveled to over the summer. I’m expecting stories about dinner with a view of the Eiffel Tower. But they’re places I haven’t heard of like Sainte-Marie, Lofoten, and somewhere in Italy that starts with aP. I remind myself to look them up later.
Someone mentions how beautiful themasseriasare. It’s like they’re speaking another dialect. I’m not really sure how to chime in. It’s something I’ve noticed these past few months at Bucknall. Their conversations feel like microtests to see who shares the same tastes in food and music. Maybe travel is another one of them.
I excuse myself before it’s my turn to go. I spent last summer watching C-dramas with my grandparents in Queens. But I wish I got the chance to travel more. Maybe I’ll look into internships that let me study abroad for a few weeks. Then I’ll have stories to share at these parties.
I think about grabbing another drink. But maybe I should just head out. I told Aunt Hi?n I’d pick up a few things on the way back. As I step into the hallway, someone touches my shoulder.
“Hey.” Dalton stops me. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving already.”
“Hey! No, I was looking for you.”
He smiles. “Sorry, had to grab somebody a charger. Glad you made it. Hope it’s a good time.”
“Yeah, your place is incredible.”
