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)
Eventually the vacation will end, and I’ll need to go back to work. To swallow my pride and go back to Nova as a lecturer. Or to try to find a new university to call home. But academia is a small world, and it’ll have gotten out that I was denied tenure. Any university that looks at me will be looking at a reject.
A semi-famous reject, but still. I’m not exactly holding my breath for Columbia or Princeton to come calling.
“Yeah. You can’t pretend to be a wizard forever, Miranda,” my brother Jamie chimes in with a wink.
My other brother, Brian, nods, and from the serious set of his mouth, I can tell he agrees with Jamie.
“I’m still a scientist. And you know what?” I snap. “Even if I weren’t, even if I didn’t want to be a scientist, would I be a lesser person? Any less of a daughter or sister?”
I’m not exactly sure where all of this is coming from—it just sort of spills out. And then keeps spilling.
I shift all of my attention to my parents. “When did I want to become an astronomer?”
My mother looks startled. “I don’t know, exactly. Weren’t you nine or so?”
“And was that before or after you sent me to science camp?”
“You loved science camp!”
“Yes, but was it my idea?” I ask, because suddenly, I need to know.
Suddenly, it feels vital that I know.
To know whether this life I’ve been chasing, this aspiration of being a full professor, of dedicating myself to one university and one field of study for the rest of my life…
Is it my dream?
Or was it planted? Not with malicious intent, but simply because that’s what Reeds do.
“Sweetheart.” My dad’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle. “You’re brilliant. Whatever recent setbacks you’ve experienced, none of us have ever doubted that. We did our best to give you every opportunity. To foster that brilliance.”
“I know, Dad,” I say, setting my elbows on the table and rubbing my temples, suddenly exhausted. “I guess… I guess I just want to know if I’d still have a spot at this table if the IQ tests and my grades and my ambitions were different.”
“Well, of course.” My mother is affronted. “You’re family.”
The relief that I feel at this vanishes with her next words. “And as your family, we need to tell you that we’re concerned. To your father’s point, you’re far too intelligent to be squandering your time with fantasy. A sabbatical, fine. But you’re hurting your reputation, and ours with it.”
There it is.
“Ah,” I say, lightly. “So all of you are embarrassed by me.”
I look around the table. My sister-in-law Emily, the only nonacademic, nonscientist at the table, who let me have her natal chart, gives me a small smile and shakes her head, but the rest of them avoid eye contact.
“You’re just so high profile,” my brother Jamie says a little guiltily. “Or you were. Everyone’s wondering why you’re no longer on the morning shows, and if Jeopardy! dropped you.”
I shift uncomfortably, not wanting to admit even to myself how much it’s been on my mind that those invitations have dried up entirely.
“Wait.” I lift a hand, deflecting. “I thought you guys all hated that I did the public stuff.”
“We did,” Brian chimes in. “But now that you’re not doing it, people want to know why.”
“We just want to understand,” my mother says, practically pleading. “And know what to tell people. About what your plan is.”
“Tell them that I’m figuring out how to be happy,” I say, pushing back from the table. “And that it’s not happening at this dinner table.”
CAPRICORN SEASON
Today you’ll find yourself pulled in a forbidden direction. Proceed with caution; something that feels seductive and irresistible today is unlikely to serve you well in the future. Prepare to feel a pull toward unfamiliar paths. Trust your instincts, but be ready to take a step back to reassess before committing further.
You’re sure this isn’t some sort of terrible dating faux pas?” Christian asks, his smile just as cute on FaceTime as it is in person. “Are we at the point where I can ask you these sorts of painful favors?”
“It’s a holiday party,” I say, taking a sip of my tea. “That’s not painful.”
“It’s a work holiday party. For someone else’s work. The small talk required of you alone will likely be excruciating.”
“Nah. The most uncomfortable part will be the high heels,” I reply.
Well, and the strapless bra.
“If we were going to my work holiday party, I’d be dragging you,” I add. “So consider us hypothetically even.”
He props his elbows on his knees and leans toward the screen slightly. “You bummed?”
I frown. “About?”
“That they didn’t invite you. Technically, you’re still part of their faculty roster, right?”
“Technically,” I admit. “And actually… I did get an invitation.”
He blinks. “Yeah? Was it while you were in Boston?”