Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I like pretending to be that person. But in the New Year, it’s time to start preparing for reentry to real life. Because in just a few short months, I go back to being me. The real me. And I can’t get too comfortable in someone else’s home living someone else’s life.
“I’d forgotten how weird Aunt Lillian is,” Jamie says with a fond smile, picking up the small deck of cards on an end table. “These playing cards are creepy as hell.”
“That’s because they’re not playing cards. They’re tarot cards. And they’re a collector’s item, so put them back.”
“Yes, Mom.” Jamie obeys and lifts his hands in apologetic surrender before picking up his wineglass from the table and settling into a neon-green chair across from me.
He takes a sip and gives me a studying look. “So. How you doing?”
“Nope,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “We’re not doing that.”
He looks confused. “Doing what? Caring about how my sister is doing?”
“I know that you care,” I say, softening my tone. “I love that you care. But I’m so over the narrative of ‘Poor Miranda is having a complete breakdown in the aftermath of getting denied tenure.’ I’m fine. I’m more than fine.”
He leans forward, his expression earnest. “Okay, but can I just plant this seed? A couple years ago, you were on that talk show. I’m forgetting which one. And the host specifically asked you about astrology. Do you remember that?”
I tense slightly because I know where this is going. “Of course I remember it, J. I was there.”
“So you remember what you said?”
“I gently explained that there was no scientific evidence that cosmic events directly impact earthly events.”
“Do you still stand by that assessment?” Jamie asks.
I lean forward and grab a couple of almonds off the charcuterie board I’d quickly put together. “I do.”
My brother looks relieved, but my next words erase all of that.
“But I’m no longer sure that everything about the human experience can be explained by science. Or should be defined by science.”
He exhales and sits back in his chair. “Damn. Aunt Lillian really has rubbed off on you.”
“Have you ever read your horoscope?” I ask. “Read your natal chart? Studied Emily’s chart in conjunction with yours? Wondered if the fact that your moon is in Cancer is the very reason you’re here right now? Because nurturing family is important to you?”
My brother stares at me. “Of course not.”
“Of course not,” I repeat. “And yet you can sit there and tell me astrology isn’t real. That what I’ve been doing these past few months is nonsense. You feel good about that, as a scientist? To form a conclusion without a single bit of data?”
Jamie closes his eyes for a moment, frustrated. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Why did you come here?” I ask, though I try to keep my voice gentle. “Did the parents send you to see if I’m still mad about Christmas dinner?”
He smiles a little. “I think they’re still recovering from your accusation that they pushed you into science.”
“I didn’t mean it to be an accusation,” I say, feeling guilty. “I just… wondered. Lillian implied there was a time when I wasn’t quite so… logical. And lately I’ve been pondering if maybe she’s right.”
Jamie’s smile widens. “Well, I do seem to remember one particular Christmas morning when Mom and Dad kept nudging you toward your new kiddie chemistry set, but you were way more into some stuffed pink pony with wings that Grandma Anne gave you. You ‘flew’ that thing everywhere.”
I blink a little in surprise. “I don’t remember that at all.”
He shrugs. “You were like five. You grew out of it.”
Did I?
A little part of me wonders if the girl who believed pink ponies could fly is still in there somewhere. If she didn’t make an appearance that night at summer camp when she wished on a star. And if she’s not showing herself now—in a woman who’s letting herself believe, at least for a little while, that the universe has a plan for her, that the planets’ transits can guide her days, and that the stars can lead her to love.
“Okay, confession time,” Jamie says, setting his glass on a sparkly coaster. “I didn’t just come here to catch up over wine. Or to check on you,” he adds quickly. “I have an… opportunity to discuss.”
“An opportunity for…”
“So, you remember Dr. Lisa Kelling?” he asks.
I scrunch my nose, trying to remember. “Is that the same Lisa you dated the year before you met Em? Few years older than you? Dry sense of humor?”
He nods.
“She was great. Why’d you break up again?”
“The long distance was wearing on us. She’s at Stanford.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Stanford’s Physics Department,” Jamie clarifies.
Ah.
“That’s great for her,” I say, then point at his glass to distract him. “More wine?”
I stand before he can reply, but Jamie refuses to let me back out of the conversation. He stands as well. “She called the other day. Managed about fifteen seconds of small talk before she got down to the real reason she was calling. You.”