The Difference Between You and Me(56)
“It’s Esther, isn’t it? Sweetheart, you can tell me.”
“It’s not Esther!” Jesse gets to her feet, shaking off Fran’s hand, and strides to the other side of the table. “God! You’re so presumptuous! You always think you know everything about me, but you don’t know everything about me, all right?”
“All right! I concede! I hardly know anything about you! I shouldn’t have assumed this was about Esther.”
“It doesn’t even matter who it is, because it’s over.” Jesse turns her attention fiercely to Roof Part A, pivoting it around and around and trying to cram it onto the bottom half of the birdhouse.
“Oh?” Fran says tentatively. Jesse can feel her adjusting her position on the little stool across the table, sitting up to pay closer attention. “But there was someone.”
Jesse nods. All at once, she can feel herself getting closer to telling. It feels electric, stepping into this zone of almost-saying-it, after keeping it carefully tucked away and insulated for so long. Her mouth feels crackly with sparks, like she’s holding a whole packet of Pop Rocks on her tongue.
“Someone you wouldn’t approve of,” Jesse says.
“How do you know I wouldn’t approve of her?”
“Because she’s not the kind of person you like.”
Fran shakes her head, bemused. “And what ‘kind’ of person do I like?”
“Um, radical people?” Jesse snaps, annoyed at having to explain the obvious. “People who try to make the world a better place? Gandhi? Thurgood Marshall? Martin Luther King Jr.? Oprah?”
“I do love Oprah.” Fran smiles. “I can’t help myself. She’s fabulous.”
“Well, this girl isn’t like that.” Jesse drops Roof Part A and starts messing with the tiny, dried-up tube of wood glue that came in the birdhouse kit, trying to unscrew its miniature cap.
“This girl’s not like Oprah. Or Gandhi, or Thurgood Marshall.”
Jesse shakes her head. “No.”
“So what is she like?”
“She’s…”
How can Jesse explain Emily to her mother? How can she describe Emily’s fluid beauty, her long-legged walk, the way her jeans fit on her hips, her laugh—recognizable to Jesse in any crowded hallway—her hoodies, her V-necks, the taste of her skin, the smell of her hair, the way she looks like she was just born to move down a hallway in a group of girls whenever Jesse sees her from a distance in school? How can Jesse describe this regular girl who is somehow, in some way, haloed in magic, for no other reason than because she’s Emily Miller? “She’s normal,” Jesse says finally.
“And I don’t like normal people?”
“It’s not that, it’s just—she’s like, supernormal. She’s against everything I stand for. She has a boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Fran nods. “I see.”
“She won’t admit in public that she likes me. And she works for StarMart’s parent company,” Jesse finishes darkly.
Fran cocks her head and squints. “Wait, how old is this girl?” she asks.
“She’s a junior,” Jesse says.
“A junior in high school? With a corporate job?”
“She has some kind of internship with them in Stonington, I don’t know. I couldn’t even listen to her when she was telling me about it, it made me so upset.”
“Wow, okay. Okay.” Fran gets up from her stool and paces a moment, full of energy, then turns to face Jesse. “So my first priority, obviously, is your well-being, and this relationship doesn’t sound like it’s been great for your well-being.” Jesse shrugs. “Anyone who won’t admit publicly that they’re dating my daughter is obviously not good enough for her, that’s how I feel. But before I dole out any motherly advice about how to handle this, let me just say: I have to hand it to you, kid. This one’s a doozy.” There is a note of genuine appreciation in Fran’s voice. “Your girl is a closet case who works for StarMart? I’ve found myself in some compromising situations myself over the years, but this one is rough.”
“Now you see why I couldn’t tell you?”
“Actually, no, because—”
“No one has ever done anything as stupid as this, ever, in the history of the entire world!” Jesse wails, cutting her mother off.
Fran rolls her eyes. “Kid, please. Practically everyone in the history of the entire world has done something as stupid as this.” Fran comes around now to Jesse’s side of the table. “Look. You’ve heard me mention Daniel Karp every now and then, right?”