Again, but Better (32 page)

February 28, 2011 (take two)

Mom and Dad,

I’ll see you two on Thursday. I’m nervous, but I’m ready for you this time.

XO,

Shane

Somehow, it’s March. I’m in the kitchen with Atticus and Babe. They’re watching
Glee,
and I’m sitting next to them, staring blindly at the wall, clutching the leather armrest.

When the time comes, I stand up calmly.

“Are those
your parents?” Atticus smiles.

“Yeah, they’re visiting this weekend,” I tell them. I suck in a deep breath before stepping out of the kitchen and closing the door behind me.

“Hi, sweetheart!” My dad sweeps me into a hug.

When he releases me, my mother swoops in. “Shane, surprise!”

“Take us into the kitchen. I want to meet your friends!” he exclaims.

“Can we just hang out the three of us tonight?”
I ask immediately.

“We want to meet your friends and take them out! Then the three of us have all weekend,” he says.

“Sweetie, we’re so excited to get a taste of the world you’re living in out here!” my mom gushes.

“Okay,” I reason, “I’ll introduce them now, and then we’ll go out to dinner just the three of us, okay?”

“So all of you been traveling every weekend, huh?” my father asks as he
drops his glass on the table.

We sit around a small circular table at Delia’s. My feet vibrate against the floor. That’s how fast they’re moving.

“Oh my gosh, yeah. Shane, why haven’t you been posting anything on Facebook?” Mom asks.

“I’ve been posting on my blog,” I point out. My armpits are sweating.

“I don’t know how to get to your blog. Can you send it to me in an email?” Dad commands.

I fiddle with my napkin. “I’ve put links to some of the posts on Facebook.”

“Yes, I’ve been following the posts, honey, but the family wants to see pictures! You’re taking pictures, right? This is such a dream come true, to be able to keep up with your studies and travel the world at the same time.” Emotion coats her voice. Her smile wobbles with pride.

“Well, I’ve put some of the pictures in
the blog posts.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same as on Facebook!” Mom laughs.

“So where have you gone? Give us the rundown,” my father says jovially.

I provide a rundown.

“Sounds like you’re having the time of your life. Can we stay here with you for the rest of the trip?” Dad suggests jokingly.

I chuckle uncomfortably.

“Tell us about work!” my mom prompts. “I want to hear gory details!”

“We don’t need the gory details,” Dad shoos. “Just tell us about it. You learning a lot?”

Inhale. Exhale. Fiddle with a napkin. “Um, yeah…” My breaths are coming in big, swollen bursts.
You can do this.

Mom puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, honey?”

Breathe
. “Yeah. I’m fine, I. Okay.”

“Okay?” my mom repeats.

“Drink some water or something!” Dad urges. I down a gulp of water. They
watch me for a long moment.

“Are you okay?” Dad asks again.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m good.”

“Good.” Mom smiles.

“Okay, so how’s the health clinic going?” he repeats.

“I have to tell you guys something.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” My mom smiles. “As long as you don’t get pregnant—”

I cut her off. “No.”

“Okay, no need to get crabby. What is it?” She laughs.

Her demeanor sobers quickly when
my facial expression doesn’t change. “Shane, what is it?”

I take one last breath and exhale the words, “I lied about this being a premed program.”

Dad’s face juts forward. “What?”

“What do you mean, you lied?” Mom says with confusion.

“I mean, there is no premed program out here.”

They both speak at the same time.

“What do you mean? You signed up for it!
I read the damn brochure!
” my dad
insists.

“How can there be no premed program? You’re premed … yeah, the brochure!” Mom sounds disoriented.

I look over at Dad. “So, I made the brochure myself.” I swallow. “There is no premed track out here.”

There’s a moment of silence as my father’s face flushes neon, and then he explodes.

“You conned us?
You little shit
,” he growls.

I push my chair away from the table, back straightening
against the seat.

“Sal,” my mother scolds.

“I’m sorry, it was wrong! I want to be a writer, and I saw an opportunity, and I did something stupid,” I explain.

“A writer? Where the hell is this coming from!”

“I told you I wanted to write when I was applying to schools!” I screech. “You said I couldn’t apply for any creative majors!”

Dad roars on like I haven’t spoken. “Are you telling me you’ve
lost an entire semester of required courses? You’re supposed to take the MCATs when you get back!”

“You won’t be ready for the MCATs,” Mom echoes softly like she’s drifting away.

“I don’t want to take the MCATs,” I breathe. I feel twenty pounds lighter as the words leave my mouth. I really, really don’t. Why did I push myself through taking them?

“Shane!” gasps my mother. For Mom. That’s why.
But she’ll understand. She has to understand.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” booms my father. “I’m over here shelling out thousands of dollars for
your
education, and you’re out here completely disrespecting me? Lyin’ to me!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just not what I’m passionate about! I want to—”

“Stop. You’re on the next fucking flight to New York!”

“I’m not going back yet. I’m seeing this
through. I have a great internship.” I struggle to keep my words coherent. “And I’m really doing well there.”

Dad jerks up from the table. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said”—I heave a rattling breath—“I’m not going back yet.”

“Give me your phone,” he demands.

“I’m sorry, no,” I answer.

His teeth grind. “You know, I do everything for you. You ungrateful little brat. I do what’s
best
for
you—”

“Forcing me into a life I don’t want isn’t what’s best for me!” I scream.

I whip up my hand and cover my mouth.

The anger in his eyes sears a hole right through my chest. My voice drops. “Dad, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry! But you’re wasting your money pushing me into medical school. That’s not what I want to do!”

“You throw this education away, and you’re going to be living in a
fucking
box
on the street! And don’t think for a second you’re going to be able to call me for help!” His words thunder around the dining room.

“Dad, why won’t you believe in me? Why would you say that? What have I ever failed at to make you think that would happen? I’m working so hard! I always work so hard!”

I throw a desperate glance at my mother, who is staring into her plate. “Mom!” I yell.

She
gives the tiniest shake of her head.

“Don’t look at her, you look at me! I built this life for you. I work day in, day out for you to have this life! These opportunities. You know my dad had nothing, chasing cartoon dreams of being a fuckin’ poet. I had nothin’. I handed you the tools for everything!” he bellows.

His eyes bore straight into mine as he growls, “I don’t want to see you. I don’t
want to hear from you. Don’t call me for money. Don’t call me for anything.” He charges away from the table.

“I’m sorry,” I blubber after him. “I’m grateful, Dad. It’s”—
sob
—“just not the right path for”—I inhale sharply as the restaurant door falls shut behind him—“me.”

I look to my mother. “Mom, I’m sorry!” gurgles from my throat. She won’t meet my eyes.

“Shane, how could you do this?” With
another shake of the head, she follows him out. I try to quell the maelstrom of hurt raging in my chest.

You knew it wouldn’t go over well.

I swallow, gulp down the rest of my water, head out onto the street, and walk. I walk and walk until I can think again. Until I can breathe normally. Until I can turn the light back on.

hey

________________________________________________

Leo Primaveri
                         3/6/11

to Shane

Heard you fucked up. Are you coming home? My mom won’t go into detail.

I blow out a breath, staring at the email in the dank school library. Why did Leo send this? I remember getting it the first time I was here—I just dismissed it. But when I got back, Leo had dropped out of school. I gnaw at my lip for a few minutes
before typing out a response.

I’ll be home at the end of April. I lied and said I was here for a premed program, but I’m doing a writing internship. What’s up with you?

Send.

Ten minutes later:

Oh shit, that’s insane. Makes sense, though. You’re always reading. I always thought you’d be an author or something. Your blog’s been extra good lately. What’d he do to you when he found out?

Has
Leo always … read my blog? We’ve never talked about it before.

He had a fit. Stormed off. Told me to never call him for anything ever again. You read my blog? What’s up with you?

Send.

A minute later:

Could have been worse, I guess. Why wouldn’t I read your blog? Meet me on Facebook Chat?

I pull up Facebook and log in.

Leo

I’m going through some
shit … It’s fucking me up, and
I don’t know
what to do or who
to talk to about it.

Shane

Do you want to Skype?

Leo

No, typing is easier.

Shane

What’s up?

Leo

I broke up with someone a couple
weeks ago.

Shane

You had a girlfriend? I thought
you just did hookups? For
how long? Why wasn’t it on
Facebook?

Leo

I’m gay.

If I were holding the computer, I would have dropped it.

Shane

But you’re always talking about
girls you’ve
had sex with?!

Back in high school he hooked up with the cheerleading captain in my year when he was still a junior! He’s played along and laughed when my other cousin Anthony has made cracks about me probably being a lesbian.

Leo

I’ve been with the guy for
almost a year, but he got tired
of living in the fucking
shadows. But if my dad found
out, he would kick me out of
the house. I know
just how the
conversation would go. I’d tell
him I’m gay and he’d say: “No,
you’re not.” There’d be an
awkward pause. I’d repeat
myself, and he’d tell me to get
out. And then, like, the guys …
Alfie, Anthony, Vincent,
Matt—I’d be exiled at every
family gathering.

My vision blurs because I can hear Uncle Dan saying exactly that. How many homophobic remarks has he had to endure from Uncle Dan
over the years? How long has he been struggling with this alone? Was all that stuff he’d said about dating girls through high school a way to protect himself? I heave in a breath.

Shane

Aflie, Anthony, Vincent,
Matt … they love you. Finding
out you like dudes is not going
to change that. Maybe it’ll take
a second to process, but you
won’t lose them. You’re not
going to lose me. Uncle Dan
and
everyone with an issue will
have to evolve.

Leo

I can’t bring myself to do shit
right now. I stopped going to
class. I’m going to lose my
scholarship.

Jesus. My heart constricts. Is he out in 2017 to his friends? Was he dealing with depression? Did he ever talk to a counselor or something? Do Uncle Dan and Aunt Marie know now? Is that why 2017 Mom never talks about him? Did Uncle Dan exile
him? Do they never talk about him? I wipe at my cheeks.

Shane

Leo, you should go talk to
someone. You don’t actually
want to lose that scholarship,
right?

Leo

I just want to be normal.

Shane

There is no normal.

He doesn’t respond for a minute. Then:

Leo

Thanks for being here.

Shane

You’re the closest thing I have
to a brother, Leo. Call me, beep
me, if you need to reach me
=
)

Leo

Sorry we don’t talk anymore.

Shane

It’s not too late to change that.
I’m here!

Leo

g2g

It’s Tuesday, March 8, and I have the first draft of my study abroad guide typed up and saved on a thumb drive. When I get to
Packed!,
I boot up the white MacBook, plug in the drive, email it to Wendy, and wait. Nowadays I’m working side by side with Tracey, Declan, and Donna on a regular basis. Whenever they’re doing something they can share with me, I’m shadowing
them. Today, I’m shadowing Declan, who’s working on a photo spread for their April issue. I end up periodically excusing myself throughout the afternoon to go refresh my email.

“Are you expecting something important that you keep running back to your desk?” Declan laughs when I return for the third time.

I sigh. “I’m sorry. Just an important email. Ignore me!”

At the end of the day when I’m
packing up, Wendy emerges from her office and walks over to my table. My throat tightens. I’m pushing in my chair to leave when she stops in front of me.

“I read your draft,” she opens.

I try to swallow. “… Thanks?”

A smile spreads across her face. “I love the direction you’re taking with this. You’re on for the article! I think we’re going to use this to kick off a series, gathering pieces
from people studying abroad all over the world. I’m going to put together some notes, and I’ll call you in for a meeting to discuss everything soon.”

My hands jump to my cheeks in astonishment. “Wendy, oh my goodness, I’m so excited. Thank you! This means so much to me!”

I blast Avril Lavigne’s “new” album through my iPod and dance down the sidewalk on my way home.

Wendy pulls me into her
office Wednesday afternoon, and we go through my piece together, point by point. She tells me what she likes and gives me notes on how I can improve it.

Wednesday night, I brainstorm Wendy’s notes. Thursday morning, I type up a second draft on the white MacBook at work, and Thursday afternoon, Donna goes through it with me before I turn it in to Wendy again. Donna is great! She’s really funny,
easy to talk to, and endlessly generous with her time.

Thursday night, I check in with Leo.

Shane

Hey, how’s it going?

Leo

Figuring it out.

Shane

…?

He doesn’t say anything else.

Babe and I go to Dublin over the weekend, and while we’re there, I open up to her about everything: Pilot, his girlfriend, the internship going wrong, my parents—everything but the time travel. She shares
some of her own family issues in return. She has an older brother who’s dealing with some alcohol issues, and it’s taking a toll on her parents. I’ve heard bits and pieces about this over the years, but never in as much detail as she
shared this weekend. I’m sad I was too caught up in my own drama during London: Take One to have been someone she could talk to about it.

It feels great to chat
so candidly with her. It’s almost like having 2017 Babe here with me.

When we get back Sunday night, I write up a post in Horcrux Ten (Nine overflowed) and borrow Babe’s computer to type up and publish: “American Girls Do Dublin.”

On Wednesday, March 16, I come into work and find the white MacBook already powered up at my station. When I get close enough, I see that Safari’s open to an article
on the
Packed!
site. I drop my purse when I read the headline.

The Top 25 Things to Cram into Your London Study Abroad Experience … Before You Go Bankrupt

by Shane Primaveri

“Tracey, this is my piece!” I yelp toward the front desk.

She smiles at me. “It is.”

“It’s up?” I squeak. “Wendy said … she didn’t say when it would be—”

“It’s up. Surprise! Congratulations!” she cheers.

“Congratulations,
Shane!” Donna shouts from across the room.

“Congratulations!” Jamie, George, Declan, and Janet all echo after her. Wendy’s door is open, and she emerges from her office to lean against the doorframe in a sleek, teal power suit.

I watch her, still frozen with delight, by my table.

“Good morning, Shane!” Wendy greets. “Congratulations on being our first intern to get a piece published in
Packed!
”

Donna whoops from her seat as Wendy strides over to me.

“Hey,” she says more quietly, “I’m really proud of you. We’re all taking you out to drinks later, so don’t make other plans.” She grins before walking back to her office.

I immediately email a link to Babe and Sahra. They both text me within minutes.

Sahra:
Congratulations, Shane! This is so great! I know how hard you’ve been working
on it.

Babe:
YAYY!!!!!!! AHHHH!!!!! YOU DID IT!!!!!! (100 MORE EXCLAMATION POINTS) AHHHHHH!!!!! IT’S BEAUTIFUL! OH MYLANTA!

I can’t stop smiling.

Wendy, Donna, and Tracey take me out to their usual pub down the street. We sit around a high table near the bar. They all tell me how appreciative they are of all the little things I’ve been doing around the office, and I start to cry right there
at the table.

“Darling!” I look up at Wendy with a sad smile. Her brown skin is glowing in the low light. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing. I’m just really excited! And grateful.” I laugh-cry. “And really sad that this is all going to be over in a few weeks.”

“We’re all going to be sad to see you leave us!” Donna smiles.

“Especially me!” Tracey laughs. “I’m going to have to go back to working
alone. I have so much more time now.”

“Who the hell’s going to anticipate my daily 3:00 p.m. caffeine needs? It’s been so long since I made my own tea, I barely remember how to use the kettle,” Donna teases.

“Seriously, Shane, we’ve never had such a hardworking, efficient intern. You’ve been brilliant.”

I huff a sad laugh. “I just hope I can find another job like this back in the US somewhere
for the summer.”

“Have you started looking?” Tracey asks. My stomach drops. Back in 2017 I have those eight other residency interviews lined up for internal medicine. I haven’t been thinking long-term here.

“No, not yet,” I reply. I make a mental note to buckle down and start researching tonight.

“Do we know anyone looking?” Wendy directs to Donna and Tracey.

Donna turns to me. “I have a friend
who works at
Seventeen
in New York, and an ex-boyfriend at
NatGeo
. I’ll send out some emails first thing tomorrow.”

I raise a hand to my chest. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course! I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll ask my contacts.”

“And I’ll keep my ears open,” Wendy adds. “We don’t have an office in New York yet, but we’re in the process of expanding to the States.”

I gape at the three of
them. “You have no idea how appreciative I am.”

“You’re going to land on your feet.” Tracey squeezes my shoulder.

Wendy’s phone sends a vibration through the table, and she picks it up excitedly.

“My husband’s coming to join us!” she exclaims, before placing it back down with a brilliant smile. My mouth falls open. “He had a meeting that finished up a few blocks from here!”

“You have a husband?”
I blurt in blatant disbelief. All three women laugh.

“Why are you so surprised?” Wendy asks, not without amusement.

“I’m sorry, um, I don’t know,” I fumble. “You’re … so independent and successful and young, and I figured it’s so hard to maintain a relationship and also be such a—badass.”

She chuckles. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s tough sometimes, but Spencer’s my partner. He makes my
life better, so I keep him around. It’s really nice to have someone to share my success with.” I nod absently, trying not to think about dessert foods.

When Wendy’s husband joins us ten minutes later, I almost choke on my wine. I recognize him immediately because I’ve seen his headshot on the back of all the Broken Beaker books I have on my shelf back at home. Her husband is Spencer Matthews,
the YA mystery novelist.

“You own your own successful magazine company and your husband writes one of the most popular YA series?” I start as Spencer leaves the table to get us a new round of drinks at the bar. “How do you guys find time to be a couple?”

Wendy snorts. “I mean, the series hasn’t happened yet, but he’s on that path. Book two’s out soon. I guess you’ve read
Broken Beaker
?”

Oh
lord, I almost just had a major time traveler slipup. I nod and she continues, “It’s all about patience and support. I would have gotten here myself, but I’d like to think my journey was a little less rocky because I had him to lean on when things were really stressful, and vice versa with his books.”

Thursday night, Babe and Sahra go out, but I decide to stay in. I want to use the time to write
a blog post about my
Packed!
article and borrow Babe’s computer while she’s not using it. Babe, Sahra, and I are leaving for a trip to Prague tomorrow after class, so I won’t have another chance to write before Sunday.

I set to work, delving into the process of putting the article together and of course what it means to me that it exists. The post goes live at 10:00 p.m. I link it on Facebook
for people to see, and then head to Gmail.

Cara Primaveri, Sal Primaveri

________________________________________________

________________________________________________

Mom & Dad,

I love you and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. We didn’t really get to discuss it, but I’ve
been working for a magazine called
Packed! For Travel!
here in London. I’ve had so much fun there, and I’ve learned a ton. I’ve shown them the work I’ve been doing on my blog, and they liked my travel pieces! They offered me the opportunity to write something for their magazine. I wrote an article about study abroad in London and it’s published on their site! Here’s the link:
packedfortravel.com/london-studyabro
adguide

I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you both, and I hope you can forgive me. I hated lying to you, but I needed to do this.

Love,

Shane

Right as I’m about to press send, there’s a knock at the door. It’s only 10:30 p.m., which is early for the girls to be back. The tiniest bit of hope sparks in my chest.

“Hello?” I call out from my perch on the bunk. No answer. I climb down and open the door.

No one’s there. I scurry back up onto the bunk, press send, and research summer writing-related jobs in the tristate area. I apply for every one I can find.

Prague is beautiful. Sahra tells us it’ll probably be her last trip for money reasons, but Babe and I convince her to join us for one more to Amsterdam the following weekend. Sunday night, when we get back, I blog about Prague and email
the link to my parents.

Now that the article for
Packed!
is done, I focus more of my attention on the book I’ve been hand-writing about twins in college. I go to class, draft the book, go to the library, type more of it up, sleep, go to work, draft book, sleep, check for more job opportunities, go to work, write book, sleep, class, go to Amsterdam.

I blog about Amsterdam and send the link to
my parents.

Babe gets free tickets to Disneyland Paris, so the following weekend, we go back to France and spend the day in the park.

I keep keeping busy. Busy at
Packed!
Busy traveling. Busy writing. Busy blogging. Busy sending out job applications. Busy. Busy. Busy.

The physical magazine edition of
Packed! For Travel!
with my article is released the second week of April. It was one thing
seeing the article on their website, but it’s a whole other rush to see it printed in the magazine on page nineteen of their spread! I take five copies from the office. Back at the flat, I use my digital camera to snap pictures of the article and attach them in an email to my parents.