“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s good you were thinking of if it was good for Ethan, he needs that in his life.”
“Since we couldn’t do lunch, do you want to stay for dinner? Ethan is working late tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The next few hours pass by e
asily. It finally feels like we’re back to a new normal.
I’ve barely closed the door when Ethan comes in. He’s tired, I go to him. His arms come around me holding me tight. “Did you eat?”
“Yes, I had something delivered. I ran into Amelia on the street. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. She’s been here for hours keeping me company.”
“Good. Ready for bed?”
I’m not, but I nod. On our way down the hall, he stops outside his office then goes in, picking up his laptop. He sees my curious look.
“We are enrolling you tonight.”
“Yes, lord and master Bishop.” I curtsy, before going into use my bathroom to brush my teeth and face before following him.
I find him undressing, watching as my body begins buzzing. “No, you greedy minx not until this is finished.”
I pout as he goes in to brush his teeth then climbs into bed. He pulls up the site and enrolls me. I want to do at least four classes, Ethan wants me to do two classes. We split the difference and go with three. If I do well I can add more the next semester. The basics are picked for this semester, history, English, and a basic math requisite. He knows his credit card number by heart as he pays. Who the hell knows their credit card number by heart?
“All done. That was fairly painless.” He closes the laptop as he sets it on the bedside table.
“I guess. Who would have thought it? Me going to school again.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Did I push you into this? Is this what you really want?”
“It is, really. I’m being stupid. I was just remembering what my dad said once.”
“What did he say?”
Shrugging, I’m embarrassed. “When I was thirteen we were watching a movie about a college fund being stolen and the lengths the kid was willing to go to get it back so he could go to his dream college. My brother Michael asked my dad if we had a college fund. My dad laughed and said of course not, Michael was going into the Marines so the government would be paying for him to go to school. I didn’t need a college fund because, why bother paying for me to go to school when I was just going to end up making babies and taking care of my husband and house? I didn’t need school for that.”
His lips go together as his face hardens. “Sometimes, I forget what chauvinistic bastards the military turns out. You know that’s bullshit right?”
“On the face of it, yes. At the time, I was pissed, I hated my father. There I was, being told in school an education was the way to make what you want happen. Almost out of a need to prove him wrong I worked harder in school, really threw myself into it. Later, he came around, he saw I needed to keep learning, that I actually liked learning.
“Still, even with everything I learned, I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. Like I said before, I did want to teach, to connect and be a positive influence with kids, but beyond—that nothing. No aspirations to be a doctor or lawyer or anything like that.”
“Are you sure you don’t still want to be a teacher?”
“No, I know I would grow to resent it. I like what you talked about, the flexibility to work when I want how I want. I’m sure if I put it to use I should have a few years under my belt at a big firm but it wouldn’t be a life-long thing.”
“I’m glad. You know you never talk about your family much. Your dad sounds like a peach. Are you not close with your mom or your brothers?”
“Not really. My dad, he just, I don’t know. This is horrible, but he’s the epitome of what I don’t want. Gives orders, demands blind obedience, he’s from something out of the fifties. My mom was to take care of the kids and cook and keep a spotless home. He took pride in the fact he never changed a single diaper or gave us a bottle. Growing up, I felt like I was the oops baby they had no idea what to do with. Then, when I became a book worm and into school, they really didn’t know what to make of me. There was no pride in my school accomplishments, the focus was all about my brothers athletic feats. By the time I was sixteen, it clicked—I just didn’t fit, didn’t see life the same ways as they did. Considering my mom was such a doormat, who only did as my dad said, I lost respect for her. Especially when he went on and on about how, if I expected to land a man and get married I needed to lose weight. Men didn’t want to marry a fat woman. Fat girls were just there to be used. My mom never once told him to stop or defend me, just nodded along.
“Then there’s the whole shopaholic thing. My dad is supposed to retire next year, but they are freaking out because they’ll have to move from base housing and with their bills, they don’t know if they can afford it. I’m disappointed in her, that after so many years she can’t get it under control. I resent her, because even though it’s her own fault, I still care enough that it stresses me out to hear what they are going through. I resent the fuck out of that, and I resent her raising us to have such limited aspirations in life. My mom believed she had it good just because my father didn’t hit her or drink. With expectations so low, I pat myself on the back for just getting out of the environment without getting married and pregnant to do it.”
“Have you two ever talked about why she shops?”