“Being a teacher is plenty important.” My voice was as firm as I’d ever been with her. “I’m not in it for the big bucks either. Enough to get a few Odyssey cards—”
“Alden…”
“And enough to stop living at home. Obviously. Cards. Rent. I don’t need some complicated, prestigious lifestyle. That was always more about you guys than me. I just wanted to help kids. And now I still can. Someone has to teach them to think logically. And I think I might be good at it.” I flashed back to the kid I’d helped at breakfast at the Kansas motel. His mom had seemed plenty willing to believe I was a teacher. There had been other moments this last week too, little reminders of the dreams I’d once had, the kid I’d been, and the future I could still have if only I was brave enough to try. Trying to shut down more back-and-forth, I hardened my tone, adding, “This is the direction I’m going to take.”
She was quiet a long moment, and I could almost hear her considering and discarding ways to get me to reconsider or to reshape my plans.
“If that’s what you truly want…” She sighed, then gentled her tone. “And you’re not going to keep chasing the professional Odyssey player dream? I suppose teaching is more realistic than spending your days with the game, even if you are impressive at it.”
“Oh, I’m still going to play. But going pro was always more of a long-shot thing, and besides, Professor Tuttle’s going to need me to stick around, break in some new players for his group, now that Conrad’s leaving—” My voice wobbled a bit on that word right as I heard the sound of the door lock.
“Honey, are you okay? Do you need—”
“No. I’m fine,” I said hurriedly as a weary-looking Conrad let himself into the room, carrying a giant trophy along with his usual bag, which was bulging with papers. I flipped off the bee documentary and rushed toward him. To Mom, I said, “Can I call you back later?”
“Of course.” While not as chipper as earlier in the conversation, there was something to her resigned tone that reassured me. I’d stood up to them and the world hadn’t ended. For the first time, my future was my own, and that victory was worth a lot, even if it meant letting her down. I had to trust in myself.
Ending the call with her, I turned to Conrad. “Sorry. My mom. She and Mimi watched the live streams.”
I left out the gist of our argument, not wanting to unload on him with so much still uncertain between us. Hopefully, there would be time later to tell him all about my epiphany, tell him how I’d finally managed to free myself from their expectations and plans, determine my own path. But right then, the only path I cared about was the one forward with him.
Setting his stuff down, Conrad stood in front of me, eyes darting around like he wasn’t quite sure where to look. “My mom watched too. Weird as heck, but apparently Cassie got her to watch the live streams. She said congrats.”
I tried to school my expression, but my eyes flew wide open at that. I knew how complicated his family situation was, all his tangled emotions, and while I had considerable ire of my own toward them, the only reaction that really mattered was his.
“That’s… How do you feel about that?”
“Angry.” He shrugged before rubbing the back of his neck. “Which I know is stupid, but it’s how I feel. It’s too little too late. Where was she all year? I needed someone.”
“I know.” Moving slowly, I reached out and rubbed his arm, relieved when he didn’t flinch away. “It’s okay to be angry. I’d be angry too. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you were so alone. I wish I’d realized. Wish I could have helped. Wish we’d…”
I couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t give voice to the longing inside me. It felt like we’d wasted so much time, and now seconds were ticking away. We could have connected so much sooner.
“Maybe it took the trip.” Conrad had apparently added mind reading to his bag of new tricks. “And that’s okay. We got here, you know?”
“Yeah.” It didn’t feel like so much of a victory to me, not with him slipping away before I’d ever had a chance to really enjoy having him.
“I’m sorry.” Matching my gesture, he rubbed my upper arm. “For earlier. I was a jerk. And I said a lot of stuff. I was scared and confused, but that’s not an excuse. I was mean to you, and I don’t ever want to be mean to you.”
“It’s okay,” I said even though it wasn’t, not entirely.
“I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry for that. And for thinking you threw the game. I just couldn’t believe I’d actually done it, but I wasn’t fair to you.”