They settle into their seats. Raj pulls out of the garage and onto the tree-lined Sand Hill Road, the road connecting Palo Alto to their home in Los Altos. As he picks up speed, they pass small buildings housing some of the most powerful venture capitalists in the world. After a few minutes of silence Gia asks, “Daddy, what do you think of UCLA? Or maybe a small liberal arts college in Southern California?”
Tension teases up Marin’s neck like a spider with claws. The hours of work she endures to pay for Gia to have the best of everything scratch at her eyelids, creating shooting pain. A reminder of the sacrifices she has made so her daughter won’t lack as she did. The memories of her own secondhand clothes still haunting, she has always bought Gia designer clothes. Restricted from participating in any after-school activities so she could care for her sisters, Marin insists Gia be involved in as many as possible. Swim team, tennis, dance, and soccer just some of the commitments. Cost has never been a concern, the money irrelevant in comparison to the benefit to her daughter.
When Gia reached school age, Raj researched the local public elementary, but Marin overrode his decision in favor of a prestigious private collegiate school in San Jose that admitted only the elite members of their community. She was steadfast in her decision. At forty thousand a year in tuition, Marin was sure her daughter would get the best education available. Each choice, each activity guaranteed to Marin that she was not a product of her past. That she had broken the cycle of hurt and disappointment, and that her daughter was the future.
“A small college?” Marin shuts off her phone and turns in her seat to face her daughter in the back. “Gia, that is not an option.”
“Why?” Gia breaks off eye contact to stare out the window. “It could be a good school.”
“Not for you it isn’t. Why would you even mention it?” Marin demands. “I don’t want to hear about it again.”
“It’s not a big deal where I go.” Gia lowers the window. The wind blows her hair and muffles her mother’s voice. “Besides, I want to stay close to my friends.”
“Your friends?”
Gia is very social. From a young age she was comfortable with people in a way that Marin still hasn’t mastered. She would smile and start up conversations without any self-consciousness. For Marin, whose own social interactions are stilted and short, it was a revelation to have a daughter so rehearsed in social etiquette.
“What friends would want you to sacrifice your future for the sake of themselves?”
Recently, many of Gia’s friends had begun to date. When Gia broached the idea with Marin, her immediate reaction was no. It would take away time from her studies. Though Gia kept asking, insisting she should be allowed, Marin refused to change her mind. Marin never dated as a teenager. Their culture demanded a girl be 100 percent pure before marriage. Even one date could taint her reputation and make her an unacceptable candidate for marriage. It was not the cultural concern that made Marin say no; it was this type of situation. Anyone having undue influence over Gia’s life.
“No one.” Gia answers quickly, without hesitation, and scoots lower into her seat. Searching for a song on her phone, she sticks in her earphones. “Never mind. Harvard or Yale are great. They are still my top choices.”
Marin rubs lotion into her chapped hands. Years of typing have formed calluses that refuse to disappear. Her hair, in a tight braid, falls down her back; her silk nightgown reaches to her feet. Their live-in housekeeper retired to bed hours ago, only after meticulously cleaning up the kitchen. Marin had eaten her dinner at her desk, with hours of work that needed to be finished. The emotional day wore on her, and her body was demanding sleep. But the conversation with Gia continued to replay in her head, keeping any hope of rest at bay.