The sympathy on my mom’s face morphs into exasperation, and my stomach turns over; I’ve been here all of two minutes, and things are already starting to go sour. “Oh, Brookie, no,” she says. “I know dating women is new for you, but Zoe’s such a remarkable girl, and you can’t let someone like that slip away just because you’re nervous!”
“It’s not because I was nervous,” I say. “And it’s not because she’s a girl, either. I’m not saying I’ll never like a girl. But I wasn’t into her the way I thought. I really tried, but it didn’t work out.” That explanation still doesn’t feel like enough, so I add, “I’m sorry.”
Mom puts on the patient voice she uses when she’s explaining a vocal exercise to a small child. “Things don’t always come easily at first when you’re dating someone new. You have to give it a chance. Relationships take time and work. You had to work with Jason, didn’t you? And Zoe’s such a better investment. She has all her priorities in order, and she’s absurdly talented, and she would fit in so well with our family—”
“But none of that matters if I’m not attracted to her,” I say. “I know it’s not the only part of being in a relationship, but it has to be a part, right?”
“It’s only been a few weeks! That’s not nearly enough time to figure out what you want. If you stick it out for the rest of the summer, I think—”
“Stop,” I say. “Please just stop, okay? It’s already done. And I love you, but you don’t get any say in this.”
My mom blinks a couple of times, like it has never occurred to her that some things aren’t her business. I can tell there’s a lot more she wants to say, but she manages to swallow down the words. “Fine,” she says. “We won’t talk about it right now. Let’s talk about why—”
Behind me, the door swings open, and I hear my dad’s voice say, “Hey, Brookie.” I jump up to hug him, grateful for the momentary reprieve, and that’s when I realize he’s not alone. My entire family is here, grinning at me from the doorway of the bistro. Uncle Harrison in his pink madras shorts. Desi with Twyla in his arms, and Jermaine, holding Sutton by the hand. Marisol, beaming and exhausted, with a tiny new baby strapped to her chest. Christa, toting the second twin in one of those car seats with a handle. A third woman, who looks like an older version of Christa, stands a few steps behind everyone with a giant diaper bag.
“Oh my God,” I say. “What are you guys doing here?”
“What do you think, silly?” Marisol says. “We’re here to see your Allerdale debut!”
“We’re so proud of you,” says my dad as he wraps me in his arms. I inhale his familiar wintergreen smell, and all of a sudden, I’m dangerously close to tears. My whole family came all this way to celebrate with me as I finally emerge from my chrysalis and open my shiny new wings on the Legrand stage. And instead, they’re about to find out I haven’t transformed into a talented, confident performer at all—and worse yet, that I never will. I can’t believe I have to disappoint everyone at once.
I make the rounds and hug them all, and Christa introduces me to her mom, who’s here to watch the kids while she and Marisol come to the show. The baby in the car seat wakes up and starts flailing its tiny arms and legs, and I lean over and stare into two big blue eyes. “This one’s Jasmine,” Christa says. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Can I?”
She looks at me like I’m nuts. “Of course. You’re her family.”
She unclips the car seat straps and hands the baby over, and I settle Jasmine into the crook of my arm so her head is supported. She’s wearing a onesie with FUTURE TONY WINNER printed across the front, and I send the universe an image of her growing up wildly talented and living up to my family’s every expectation. “Say hi to your Auntie Brooklyn,” Christa croons to her tiny daughter, and Owen lets out a cry and kicks his legs, like he’s annoyed by all the attention his sister is getting. Marisol starts bouncing up and down, which seems to soothe him. I wish I could be calmed that easily.
The waiter pulls a bunch of tables together for us, and everyone talks over each other and moves chairs around and passes bags and children back and forth as they attempt to settle in. The second we’re all sitting, Twyla knocks over a carafe of water, and Sutton loudly demands noodles with no sauce over and over as Desi tries to mop her off with paper napkins. Being with my family is as chaotic and wonderful as always, and this time when everyone starts reminiscing about Allerdale, I’m able to chime in with experiences of my own. I’ve danced in the cage at Pandemonium. I know how it feels to be super-sleep-deprived during third rotation. I’ve taken a class with Marcus and tried all the coffee shops and ice cream places. One last time, I let myself pretend I’ve achieved the kind of camaraderie with everyone that I pictured during our last Family Night.