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The whole lesson that got me as happy and successful as I am with Nash and Worth Going is that sometimes you have to be flexible and pivot to get what you really want.
What I really want. Sex has muddled my brain. Fantastic sex andyou are wonderful.
For the rest of the flight, I watch TV and get a flurry of messages in my family chat. They are bickering over the logistics of getting everyone back together for a second Christmas, with my mom asking everyone to pick up food on their way in. I have emails from Juna thanking me from the whole family for the gifts I sent them this morning.
At JFK, I wrestle my bags into a cab and text my family, giving them my ETA. Since it’s Friday and everyone is off work today, we’re meeting at my parents’ house to play games and open the last of the presents.
The city is gray and chilly, but the streets are barren of snow, and instead of contending with pristine white snowbanks, I’m stuck in traffic on the expressway and gazing out at the cold, dark East River.
New York is lovely for Christmas in some places. And I bet Baden isn’t as charming and idyllic all winter long as it was with a fresh coat of snow.
The cab pulls up in front of the single-family home my parents have lived in for twenty years. There’s a wrought-iron fence around the small yard and driveway, a few kid’s toys in the brown grass, and Christmas lights around the border of every window and door. Mom is staunchly a colored light Christmas decorator, which we disagree on.
As the trunk of the cab pops, the front door opens.
“There she is!” Dad cries out. The whole family comes out, and I hug everyone as they grab luggage and pull me inside.
“Have you eaten yet?” Mom asks once I’m deposited at the kitchen counter. My parents renovated it a few years ago, and the kitchen is modern, white, stainless steel, and marble.
I shake my head. Mom pulls out leftovers and makes me a plate while my sisters and brothers-in-law ask me about the trip. I’m handed a toddler—India, Daria’s three-year-old—for some inexplicable reason since I have to eat soon.
I worried that retelling the story—excluding the spicy bits, of course—would make it sound less magical, but it doesn’t. The cozy evenings, the way the Toch family welcomed me in, the Christmas Market—they still sound as wonderful as they were.
“What an adventure you had,” Daria says, taking her daughter back when Mom sets a hot plate down on the counter in front of me. The rest of the kids have been put down for naps or are parked in front of the TV with Stan, Nev’s husband.
“All this because you had an in at Heartly.” Tanya shimmies her shoulders and does a victory dance.
It’s an innocuous comment, the kind she makes all the time. But after the week I’ve had, it’s like a pea under my bed that I’ve finally realized I don’thaveto live with anymore. I think of Peter’s family and how loving and supportive of each other they are, and all I’m trying to do is have a job that I love and occasionally make a difference in people’s lives, and my family can’t even give me that. I put my fork down before I’ve even had a chance to take a bite of Mom’s casserole.
“No, it’s not because I have an in at Heartly. It’s because I’m good at my job.”
My tone is sharp enough that she stills and her eyes go wide. “Well, yeah, but—”
“No buts. Every time we talk about my successes, you always bring up the fact that I got a big break because of you.”
Her eyes flash. “It’s not every time.”
“Well, it feels like it to me, and that’s enough.”
“Kara,” Mom chides. “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Then why say it? You all do this. Nev is always telling me that family is the most important thing when she’s asking me to babysit, and yeah, it is important, but taking care of my niece when you have other options isn’t as important as my job. And Mom and Dad, you’ve constantly told me that I should have chosen a different career path. I’m doing what I love, and I wish you—all of you—would support that.”
“We paid for your college and let you live under our roof,” Dad argues.
“Yeah, you did. I succeeded because of the things you did. But I also succeededin spiteof the things that you did.”
In the shell-shocked quiet of the kitchen, I stand up and push away from the counter. “I’m going to go for a walk.”
One of my nieces laughs at the TV, and I grab my coat from the hook by the door, throwing it on. Then I have to put on gloves and a hat and, geez, storming out in the winter doesn’t quite have the same effect as it does in the summer.
I even forget my phone.
I walk to the park, which doesn’t make me feel any better because it’s brown and ugly right now. I sit on a bench anyway and consider my options. I’m twenty-eight years old and still living with my parents, but rent in the city is hella expensive. I have a job that I excel atdespitemy family, but I can’t do it this way anymore.
I need to move out. I need to set better boundaries with my family.
And maybe Clara is right. Maybe I can find a way to keep doing what I love while holding on to someone who believes I’m wonderful.
