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I tipped up my chin. “I know how I old I am.”
“He’s… God, he’s my age!”
I stilled and realized something. “How did you know he was my boss?” I asked.
She swallowed, but still glared at me. “He came to the house last night looking for you.”
When he came to pick me up to take me to dinner. Of course she’d met him.
“Why did you have to pick the only eligible bachelor in town?” she yelled.
I processed her words and couldn’t believe her reaction. “Oh my God. You’re mad at me because I stole a thirty-something man from you?”
“Have you seen him?” She fanned herself.
“Of course I’ve seen him, I slept with him,” I shouted back.
“Older men only want women your age for one thing,” she countered. Her words stung and they were meant to. They made me feel silly and stupid.
“You don’t have to remind me of that. My professor–” I bit my tongue, the truth falling out by mistake. “Mav’s different.”
She set her hands on her hips, cocked her head. “What about your professor?”
I turned away, set my purse on the table beside the door. I didn’t want to get into this with her now. Or ever. Especially since she was mad. Irrationally so, but mad nonetheless.
“Bridge, what about your professor?” she pushed.
I wasn’t going to get out of answering. Shit.
I closed my eyes, sighed. “He… he wanted my work, so he took it.”
“What do you mean, took it?” she asked, her voice missing that angry edge.
“Took it,” I repeated. “Claimed it as his.”
She sighed, as if she were a balloon being deflated. “That’s why you left?”
I cut past her, went into the kitchen hoping there was a pot of coffee. I couldn’t look her in the eye when I told her this. “I didn’t leave. I got kicked out because they said I plagiarized.”
“Plagiarized what?” she asked, following.
I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured myself a cup. Took a big sip and burned my tongue.
“My professor’s journal article.”
“Oh my God! Are you fucking kidding me?” Now she was really mad.
“I know. I’m not perfect.” I set my coffee down.
“That’s what you think I’m upset about?” she shouted. “Jesus, Bridge. I’m your sister.”
I shook my head and stared down at the counter.
“No. You’re my mother and I can’t ever live up to your expectations. I didn’t mean to get expelled from MIT. Do you think I wanted to miss graduating and… and…” I didn’t finish because there were so many ands.
I heard her drop into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Based on what you said, you slept with him, didn’t you?” Her words were back to gentle.
