He presses his lips together and swallows hard. A storm of emotions passes over his face, and I can’t even begin to name all of them. I lightly touch my fingers to the back of his hand, an offering of apology and peace.
“Mac, I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m the youngest of my brothers. My oldest brother, Rob, is a lawyer, graduated top of his class from Harvard as an undergrad and in law school. He’s a partner at a top firm in Philadelphia now. Michael is next oldest. He plays in the NFL, but he also has a biology degree and just announced he’s retiring to go to the South Pole science station with his fiancée to pursue photography. Noah is only two years older than me and he started a job at NASA about six months ago.” He pauses, taking a bite of a French fry and chewing it slowly.
His whole demeanor changes as he starts talking about his brothers. He tells me about their jobs like he’s reading off a menu. There’s no pride in his voice, but no envy either. Just facts.
“I was okay at soccer, but never good enough to go pro. I’m okay at school as long as I work hard. You know what I am good at? Making people laugh. But a career in comedy or acting is not something—I could never tell my parents that’s what I really want to do. My dad won’t even let me take a theater class, one class, because he doesn’t believe in arts as a career or some bullshit. Even a psychology major is a bit of a stretch for them, but with a lawyer, scientist, and an engineer already, my parents didn’t need me to be great at anything.”
I slide my hand over his, covering the back of his hand with mine. My heart breaks for little Mac, whom I imagine at family parties making everyone laugh, no one taking him seriously. I imagine his dad, stone-faced and unapproving as he grows up and does his best. It’s hard to imagine a life where my parents didn’t actively encourage me and cheer me on. My heart clenches.
“I wasn’t expected to do as well as my brothers, but I’m still expected to do well. Going over and above, getting the accolades that come with the Walden Scholarship isn’t a lot, but it’s something.” His fingers curl around mine.
The entire cafe has disappeared, the bustling lunch hour slowing almost to a stop.
“Mac.” His name sticks in my throat.
His eyes meet mine and he gives me a tight smile. “I know it’s dumb.”
“It’s not. It’s not dumb at all,” I say as earnestly as I can, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m embarrassed for having judged him so harshly, for thinking he had no issues because he had enough money to fix any problems he did have. It was so ignorant of me; so judgmental. I never considered the kind of problems money can’t solve. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes mine back. His eyes hold mine, and I hope I’m communicating everything I can’t find the words for.
It never occurred to me Mac might feel the same kind of pressure I do. I don’t have siblings, but I understand expectations. When I got accepted to college there was an instant expectation that I’d be the first one in my family to graduate. And even though finishing is the bare minimum, my own expectations drive me to be the best. I won’t just be the first person in my family to graduate college; I’ll be the first one to do itandI’ll graduate valedictorian. I carry immense pressure not to let my family down. Even if that pressure is somewhat self-imposed.
For once I feel like I understand Mac in a way that I never have.
It occurs to me for the first time that maybe he didn’t take the ambassador opportunity away from me two years ago. Maybe he wanted the opportunity to shine in the already bright landscape of his family. My heart softens, melting a little for Mac. Whatever bitterness lived inside me toward him is gone. That lingering frustration about the scholarship—it’s also gone.
The Walden Senior Scholarship isn’t any less important to me than it was before, and I won’t be giving it up because I know why Mac wants it now. But I will stop seeing him as a villain hell-bent on destroying my academic career.
“Am I interrupting something?” Jade’s voice comes from behind me.
I yank my hand out of Mac’s and stand abruptly. “Jade, hey,” I say and hug her. We’re not usually the hugging type, but I feel like I just got caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, and I don’t know what else to do to diffuse the awkwardness.
Jade pats my back. “Okay, weirdo,” she says in my ear. “I saw that.” When I release her from the hug, she asks Mac, “Can I join?”
“Absolutely,” Mac says, getting up to grab another chair for Jade. Whatever vulnerability was just there is gone now. It’s like he’s got a mask of positivity that he’s slipped back on, but I wanted more time with the vulnerable Mac.
Maybe if I go home with him for Thanksgiving…
“You two will not believe what just happened.” Jade sits with all the gusto of a main character, interrupting my thoughts.
“I probably won’t,” Mac says.
“I might. Try me,” I say.
We both give Jade our full attention, because that’s what you do when Jade is in the room. She rolls her eyes at both of us and pulls a protein bar out of her backpack, ripping open the package and tearing off a bite.
“So I’m walking with George Greg to his next class—”
“George Greg?” Mac asks.
“He’s a Greg that looks like George Clooney, so we call him George Greg to differentiate between the other Gregs she’s slept with,” I say quickly so Jade can go on with her story.
She nods at me appreciatively as I take a bite of food, which is getting cold since I didn’t eat a bite while Mac and I were talking.
“Gregs? Plural?” Mac asks.
“And we’re holding hands—”
