“Oh, that kind of family? The pressuring kind? Overachievers?”
“They are definitely overachievers. The thing is, I’m just not like that. I’m a work-to-live not a live-to-work type of person. I like to put in my forty hours and then go have my life.”
“But that doesn’t sit well with them?”
I shrugged. “They believe that life is work. It’s not about joy. It’s not about laughter. It’s not about love, really, I don’t think, for them. It’s about work. I don’t think my dad likes saving lives as much as he likes being at the top of a field that is constantly growing and changing. I think it’s about progress for them. Library science isn’t exactly cutting edge. But I mean, there isn’t much they can do. My parents weren’t really very engaged parents, you know? So, I think when I changed my major it was, like, this moment of . . . It was a break for all of us. They no longer needed to pretend that they understood me. I no longer needed to pretend I wanted what they had.”
I hadn’t ever told anyone my real feelings about that before. But I didn’t see any reason to tell Ben anything but the entire truth. I was somewhat embarrassed after I said it all. I realized just how vulnerable that was. I turned and looked out my window. The traffic in the opposite direction was relentless, and yet, we were flying through town.
“That’s really sad,” he said.
“It is and it isn’t. My parents and I aren’t close. But they are happy in their way and I am happy in mine. I think that’s what matters.”
He nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Smart and right.”
I laughed. “How about you? How are your parents?”
Ben blew air out of his chest but kept his eyes forward and on the road. He spoke somberly.
“My father passed away three years ago.”
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” He looked at me briefly and then returned his eyes to the road. “He died of cancer and it was a long battle so we all knew it was coming; we were prepared for it.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
Ben let out a brief puff of air. “I don’t either. Anyway, my mom is doing well. As well as you can when you’ve lost the person you love, you know?”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“No, I can’t either. I’ve lost a father and I know how hard that can be, but I can’t even imagine losing your best friend, your soul mate. I worry about her, although she insists she’s okay.”
“I’m sure you can’t help but worry. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
Ben shook his head. “You?”
“No, sir.” I rarely met other only children. It was nice to hear that Ben was one. When I would tell people I was an only child, I felt like I was either being pitied for not having had siblings or being judged as petulant even if I hadn’t proven to be.
“Awesome! Two only children! I knew I liked you.” He high-fived me sloppily as he kept one hand on the wheel.
“Do I get any hints about where we are going yet?” I asked, as he merged from one freeway onto the next.
“It’s Mexican” was all I could get out of him.
After two games of Twenty Questions and one game of I Spy, we finally made it to our destination. It was a shack. Quite literally. It was a shack in the middle of the road called Cactus Tacos. I was underwhelmed, but Ben’s face lit up.
“We’re here!” he said as he flicked off his seat belt and opened his car door. I gathered my things, and he came around to my side. He opened the door for me before I could open it for myself.
“Why, thank you!” I said over the dinging of his car, reminding us that the door needed to be closed.
“Certainly.”
I crawled out and stood next to him.
“So this is the place, huh?” I said. He shut the door behind me and the dinging relented.
“I know it doesn’t look like much. But you said you were up for an adventure and these are honestly the best tacos I’ve ever had in my life. Do you like horchata?”