Page 48 of It Couldn't Be You
“If I remember correctly, I had an old colleague who told me someone was retiring out here. It felt like serendipitous timing. We felt a little anxious for a job to open up, and here was a perfect opportunity at just the right time,” Dad said. “It felt meant to be.”
“If you hadn’t had me, where do you think you’d have gone?” I asked. Did my mom have a secret dream of Somewhere Else that never came true? Like me?
“Honey, it’s been over two decades, I can barely remember the girl I was before you,” Mom said with a gentle laugh. “I think life just happens, and you go along with what feels right. Sometimes, all you can do is follow the opportunities that arise and chase what you feel an ache to chase. For me, that was always art, that was teaching, and that was you. I never wanted to chase travel. I would dream up paintings. I would dream up classroom projects. I dreamed up raising you with a little backyard and a little city of our own, and that’s just what I did.”
Dad nodded. “I guess I was a little boring. I wanted to own my own practice since I was in school, so I charted out that path.”
“Were you ever deterred from it, Dad? Were you ever scared? You’ve never seemed scared about any of it,” I said. “But maybe that’s just my perspective from being a kid.”
Dad let out a big laugh. “Emma, of course, I was scared. I went to medical school! I remember failing out of a particular class over and over, and your mother telling me I just had to keep it up until I made it. This career has sometimes cost me more than I thought I could afford. I mean, heck, it was terrifying a lot of the time, and I don’t think I ever felt smart enough… But I really liked it, so I kept at it.” He reached over and grabbed my mom’s hand. “Your mother really held my hand and led me through it, too.”
“And moving to this random town with no family wasn’t necessarily easy, but it was the right opportunity at the right time. It was our dream for the moment. It was scary, but we did it. We did it together,” Mom said.
I sighed. I wanted so badly to be able to peer into my parent’s history and find some sort of roadmap for my future. I think part of me had expected them to tell me of course they’d longed for something different all along, but for very good reasons they’d ignored those silly desires, so I could have a good reason to ignore my own silly desires.
I went to speak, but then closed my mouth.
Mom noticed, of course. “Honey, I fear you’re having one of those early-onset mid-life crises.”
“You mean a quarter-life crisis?” I groaned.
“Yes, that!” She pointed at me. “That’s it.”
“No, God, where did you read about those? I’m not having a quarter life crisis. I’m just trying to figure out my next steps, I suppose. Which dreams do I chase? How do I know when to go and when to stay?”
“I think right now is the age for trying,” my dad said. “Write for a magazine, Emma! Write your stories. You can write while you’re at the coffee shop, can’t you?”
“It’s not that. I know I should write.” I fiddled with my silverware. “I guess I’m trying to figure out what it means that I’ve always wanted to travel. Should I try to move somewhere? Should I apply across the country? Or should I just book a few fun future vacations when I’m not so strapped for cash? And, like, what should I do about writing? Don't get me started on that. Gabriel thinks I should go back to what I wanted to do fresh out of college. Katie thinks I should do freelance.” I looked up at my parents. “Dad thinks I should write for a magazine, I guess.”
“I think you should do what you want to do,” Dad clarified. “Little you was always making me those pretend magazines, so that’s what I think you should do. Little me was always offering fake dental exams, you know.”
“You’re cute, Dad.”
“Honey, I say you should calm down,” Mom offered. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You’re twenty-five. You’re not supposed to know where you’ll be for the rest of your life at twenty-five. You want life to surprise you a little. Write, reach out, and see what happens. If you wind up with an opportunity to travel—take it! If nothing happens—well, I think something will happen.”
“Something will happen,” Dad’s voice boomed in agreement.
“But, mostly, sweetie, calm down.” Mom was rubbing my shoulder again. “No little life crisis for our Emma.”
“Noquarter-life crisis.” I laughed. “Well, now, tell me how you knew each other was the one.”
They both laughed at me. Mom started clearing our plates.
“Really, guys, come on. How did you know?” I said, even though they’d told me this story hundreds of times.
Mom stopped clearing the plates and looked at Dad. She grinned at him and said to me, “How could I not know?”
“What did you write in that note?” my dad asked.
“Magnets,” Mom said delicately.
“We were magnets,” Dad said.
“I mean, honey, when it’s the one, you just think,of course.It’s not a question ofare they the one, but ofwho else could ever be the onenow that I’ve met them?”
“God.” I leaned back in my chair. “You two sure are cheesy.”
“Sure, Emma. I used to read those poems you and Gabriel wrote. Now those were cheesy.” My mom wiggled her fingers at me.
