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SHAY:Laurel was wrong. The weapons weren’t the unsettling part. When we got to Rachel’s room, it was all pink, with dolls on the bed, like a little girl’s room. That really threw us. Not only because it was so childish, but because in our suite, Rachel’s room was bare. Zero decor. It was clear either we didn’t know the real Rachel, or Don had decorated it for her. Both options were weird. I think Clem was the one who said, “Gee, Rachel, forget the dorm. Why don’t you live in this life-sized Barbie Dreamhouse?”
We all laughed, except for Rachel. I don’t think she even breathed.
Don could probably sense the tension, because he brought us downstairs and opened wine. We started talking, having a good time, cracking open bottle after bottle. Don put on one of his old records, and we danced in the living room, totally goofy, free-flowing, you know, laughing at each other. Especially at Clem, who was a ridiculous dancer. She did this shimmy thing… You had to be there.
Out of nowhere, Don stopped laughing and said, “Rachel,” in this really low, commanding voice. He nodded in the direction of the kitchen. Rachel put her wineglass down and went immediately. We stopped and watched her put on an apron and start pulling things out of the fridge. Our jaws literally dropped. First of all, we had never,everseen Rachel cook. Second, and most important, we’d never witnessed her obey anyone. But there she was, standing in a frilly apron at the drop of a hat. It was surreal.
Clem said, “Is Rachel…making dinner?” With the most dubious tone.
Don grinned and said, “Come with me.”
We followed him into the kitchen. He pulled open a drawer full of aprons, all of these bright colors, and took out three. I remember Clem snorting, like she thought he was joking. But Don’s face was serious. He said, “I was wondering if you’d give Rachel a hand.”
I felt conflicted; it was rude to refuse, because we were guests, and besides, Don was always treating us, so I felt like I owed him. But it was also a strange request. Or maybe it was just the way they did things in their house? Every family’s different.
Everyone was quiet, so Don said, “Rachel and I like to practice acts of service. I think you’d be surprised how empowering it can be.”
Clem said, “I don’t cook. Sorry.”
I looked down at the aprons. They were just little pieces of fabric. Don was having us over to his house, pouring us wine. He’d taken us to dinner and drinks. Surely, we could do this little favor.
He smiled at Clem and said, “You could always go out on a limb, Clementine, and explore a different version of yourself. You know, like you do with that hair. Those silly colors that distract from your face.”
She said, “I like my hair. And I go out on plenty of limbs.”
Her tone made me tense. Clem was easily provoked, combative. But next to Don, she sounded petulant. I had this sudden fear he wouldn’t want to see us anymore.
But all he said to Clem was, “Manners, Clementine.”
I guess Laurel was as uncomfortable as I was, or she was eager to please. Either way, she picked up an apron and tied it on. Don beamed at her. It made me jealous, so even though it still felt strange, I put on one of the aprons.
For the next hour, Laurel and I took orders from Rachel, helping her make lasagna. Clem didn’t have anything to do. I could tell she didn’t want to hang out alone with Don in the living room, not after how she’d acted, so she kind of hung around the kitchen awkwardly. She kept trying to make small talk, but Laurel and I were annoyed and ignored her.
Occasionally, Don came back to watch us. He said it was a lovely sight, the three of us working together. I wondered then if he was doing this for Rachel—like maybe she secretly wanted to spend time with us, so he was engineering it. But Rachel didn’t look happy. Just blank, like always.
When dinner was ready, Don asked Clem to pour wine at the dinner table and light the candles. I guess she felt guilty, because she did it without complaining. And then we were all sitting around this long, dramatic table, with a huge chandelier over the top, and Don at the head. It was dark without lights—romantic, but also unnerving. I’ll never forget the way Don looked, glowing in the candlelight. He’d never been more mysterious or unreachable. I wanted so badly to know him.
He raised his glass and said, “A toast to my girls.” He caught my eye and winked, and I remembered how he’d told me I could call him Don, or Dad, or Peter, whatever I wanted.
It was getting harder and harder to know what I wanted.
We sipped, but before we could pick up our forks, Don said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the three of you, and how I want to make sure you’re reaching your highest potential. Doing what you were put on this earth to do. As I’ve gotten to know you better, I’ve realized—and I hope you don’t mind me saying this—that each of you has been profoundly misunderstood. Abandoned in different ways by the people who should’ve taken care of you. I think it’s safe to assume that no one—not your schools, your teachers, your friends, not even your family—has ever really seen you. I can sense it when you talk about the past. Other people haven’t known what’s best for you.” One by one, he looked around the table, and when he got to me, I had that feeling again, like he could see inside me.
Then Clem said, all sarcastic, “Andyouknow what’s best?”
Laurel kicked her under the table, and I didn’t blame her. What Don said meant something to me. He was right that I’d always felt alone. In that moment, I almost hated Clem. It felt like she was dismissing me, not Don.
But he only smiled at her, like she was a naughty child. “I’m saying we’re all on a journey to become the people we’re meant to be. I think we can get there faster if we go together. I’ve learned a lot in my life. Had the privilege of meeting a lot of brilliant people and studying important ideas.”
I wondered again about Don’s life before we met him, but he kept going. He said, “The ideas that shaped Western democracy have fallen out of favor in our anti-Enlightenment age. I think I could give you a unique perspective you’re not getting in school. I could serve as a mentor of sorts, if you’re interested.”
Laurel said, “I’m interested,” and he grinned at her. It gave me a sinking feeling.
He said, “What if I were to say that in our frenzy to make sure everyone and everything is treated equally, we’ve bulldozed over nuance, erased essential differences between people. More than that, we activelydenydifferences these days. We’re all so afraid to be honest about what comes natural to us that we go our whole lives pretending to be people we’re not.”
Clem said, “What kind of differences are you talking about?”
Don looked at each of us in turn, and said, “I’ve mentioned Aristotle. One of the most enlightened thinkers to ever walk this earth. He laid the foundation for how we understand virtue and ethics because he was able to see into human nature with more clarity than most people ever do. But he wasn’t alone. Plato, Socrates—so many of our foundational thinkers, the greats—saw right into the hearts of men and women. They saw how deeply women were fulfilled by nurturing and inspiring, how men were fulfilled by creating and leading. They didn’t bemoan it; theycelebratedit. Think about Dante, how he createdThe Divine Comedy.”
