“They already asked me before you arrived,” Jackie explains, pouring herself more tea out of the little silver pot, a swirl of jasmine; she stops drinking coffee in the days leading up to a shoot. “I’ve got jobs booked through August.”
“I also have work,” Lili counters. “I’ve already told Jackie this, I have tons happening with the farm this summer, I can’t just drop that.”
Amina waves a hand, dismissive. “You can ask for time off more easily than Jackie. You’re doing our trip upstate in a couple of weeks!”
“That’s a work trip.”
“All the more reason you need a break.”
“What about your thesis?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you have, like, major edits you need to work through? Kerr justhit me with a novel’s worth, hasn’t your adviser? Aren’t you going to be working on it this summer?”
“I’ll finish it fast.”
“But—”
Amina sighs. “Li, no one cares if I unravel the mysteries of Llosa’s authoritarian neoliberalism—I’m not going to solve Latin American ideological polarization or put forth some new revolutionary concept of literary theory. I’ll hand it in before the year is done, my adviser doesn’t mind. It’s just a master’s thesis.”
A twinge in her chest, painful and complicated;if no one cares,then why are you writing one?she thinks. It hurts sometimes; how Amina doesn’t have to worry about academic excellence, employability, forcing the ground beneath her to be stable—she can pursue her art relentlessly until it becomes a career, walk a thousand-foot-high tightrope without any fear of the fall. The security of wealth, the spontaneity it affords her; the all-encompassing glow of its safety that Lili sometimes finds herself so deeply fucking jealous of.
“It’s just not a good time,” Lili explains. “I’ll be at every New York show you ever do, I promise, but I can’t make a trip like this work right now.”
Amina shrugs, unswayed. “We’re going.”
“Yes, you two definitely are.”
“And you’re coming with us.”
Lili lets out a heavy sigh, trying to be patient, trying to breathe through her discomfort. Beside her, James has stayed quiet; he knows this argument well. “Ami, I can’t exactly afford this, from multiple perspectives. I can’t take the time off work with just a month’s notice, I can’t risk messing up my thesis, and I don’t—I don’t really have the money for this.”
“Li, Jesus, you’re not going to have to pay for anything—”
She rears back, as if burnt; she feels Jamie’s hand settle against her back, steadying her. “That’s not how it works. I’m not taking your money like that.”
“But it’s not my money! I didn’t work for any of it, so let me spend it on you—”
“Amina, please.” Lili closes her eyes for a moment. “Back off, yeah? Things are stressful right now, I’m really not doing this to be a killjoy, I promise. I justcan’t.”
Amina raises her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine—but just think about it some more, okay? I’d really love you to come. There’s no one I’d rather talk about art with. I want to share this with you.”
“Speaking of art,” James interjects, leaning forward with a mischievous look at Lili. “How was your date at the Met?”
Amina nearly knocks over her coffee, reaching for milk. “What?” she yells.
“Who told you?” Lili demands.
“You didn’t say it was a secret!” Jackie protests.
“I didn’t say it was national news to be televised, either!”
“What do you think their dirty talk is like?” Jackie asks James, ignoring her.
“Oh, depraved. Like, ‘go down on me like the pound after Brexit—’”
“‘Seizemymeans of production—’”
