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He waved back.
“Remember the time,” he said, “when we drove all the way to Arizona for the summer trip? I think I was in seventh grade. So, what were you, in second? That was the last time we went that far.”
“I’m pretty sure we went to Colorado after that,” I said.
“Colorado’s not as far as Arizona, Emmy.”
“Oh.”
He looked at me blankly. “Do you really not know that?”
“Josh!” I said. “Does this anecdote of yours have a point? Or do you want to critique my geography skills?”
“What geography skills?”
I gave him a look too, before fixing my gaze back out at the road. The little boy from the minivan was gesturing wildly at me and sticking his tongue out. I stuck mine out back.
“My point is,” Josh said, “that I think it was in Arizona when you made up that game. You know, when you’d scream, Wolf! out the back of the window if you didn’t recognize the car behind you? What was that game called?”
“Wolf.”
“That’s right. Wolf. Now, that was cr
eative.”
I rolled my eyes in disbelief that it had taken me this long to see it coming. But now I knew. I knew what was coming next—some version of Josh’s you’re-not-supposed-to-be-living-your-life-in-this-way speech. You’re supposed to be doing something creative. You’re supposed to be doing something.
“You know, Josh,” I said, “I really don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me about anything right now.”
“Who’s lecturing? I’m not lecturing. I’m just saying.”
I closed my eyes. “Well, wake me when you’re done saying.”
“You never want to talk about this, Emmy. How you’re just, like, wasting more and more time away in Rhode Island. You never want to deal with it at all. Even Meryl says . . .”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. I couldn’t believe he was bringing up Meryl now. How could he think that was a good idea? It was like he had totally lost any sense of reality.
I tried to stay calm. “Honestly,” I said. “Why do you think you are entitled to make choices about my life? What qualifies you for that? The great ones you are making in your own?”
“That’s mature,” he said. “I’m a doctor.”
I shook my head, turning away from him. I really didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore. I understood that Josh didn’t want me in Rhode Island—that he didn’t want me doing what I was doing, or not doing. But the way I figured it, he was out of line getting so bent out of shape. I could do anything in Rhode Island that I could do in New York City. Or Los Angeles. Or anywhere else for that matter. And for all he knew, I was.
“Did you not see all of the tapes sitting in my bedroom?” I said. “Does the documentary I’m working on not count at all?”
“Right, the documentary.” His voice had an edge to it, which I tried my best to plow right through.
“It’s just so fascinating, you know? These women have partners who spend more than half their time away from home. Four weeks, six weeks at a time . . . can you imagine what it must be like to be married to someone who is always going to leave you? What that must be like to be the one who is always waiting for someone to come back? Pretty interesting stuff to think about.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to say,” he said, “I don’t really think it’s such an original topic.”
“Not so original?”
“Right.”
I stared him down. “So, Wolf is genius, but taking a look at a difficult aspect of an understudied subculture’s life isn’t very creative?”
Before he could even attempt an answer, I put my hand up to silence him. It was enough, and quite honestly, I was feeling more than a little defensive about my documentary, somewhat troubled as it was. Of course, Josh couldn’t understand its value. He’d never been waiting for anyone. He’d never been left. He was too busy keeping everyone in.
