Bridge traffic, an hour later, and thirty minutes late, Audra and I were sitting at her teak dining room table. Everyone had their Doc out. The Father and I were both browsing the news on ours. The Mother had hers on holoscreen and was flicking through a patient’s case history. Audra had her larger Home Doc up on a stand, so none of us could see what she was looking at. Our late arrival made the oppressive silence of the meal even more punishing than usual. It was the eve of Christmas Eve, but in the Rhodes brownstone, not a single holiday bauble was in sight.
I wasn’t surprised. The Parents’ religion wasn’t faith-based. It was purely clinical. Audra’s parents were both psychiatrists. Even the most banal comment was so ruthlessly dissected that I hesitated to thank them for dinner lest they diagnose me with a flattery complex. They were parents in name only—the Mother, the Father—who must have had their daughter completely by accident, because not an ounce of affection or interest went into raising her. Yet, strangely, they insisted on these nightly dinners. Most likely so they could hold them up to their patients as parenting done right.
If I’d grown up in Audra’s house, I’d hide in empty stairwells, too.
On the wall behind Audra, life-sized American soldiers shot at some desert culture’s rebels. These wallpaper screens had come out a year ago. I’d always thought it was strange that the Rhodeses had installed theirs in here instead of in the family room.
“Why would they put it in the family room?” Audra said. “It’s the least-used room of the house.”
I looked down at my plate as the position of the screen made it look like the soldier was taking aim at Audra’s head. I’d had more than enough screens for one day.
As if she weren’t breaking into utter silence, the Mother asked, “And school, girls?”
The Mother was a carbon copy of Audra—tiny, with delicate features, slim wrists, and impeccably coiffed hair. For the most part she was a cold, aloof woman, but on the occasions she had a bad day or drank too heavily, she could put Audra’s nasty streak to shame. At one of the worst dinners I’d attended, she’d derided Audra to the point that my friend was whimpering. Audra had stayed at my house for a whole week after that evening.
Still studying her holoscreen, the Mother nibbled on a small green bean, chewed it thoroughly, and washed it down with an equally tiny sip of pinot blanc. If people in Audra’s family took normal-sized bites, dinners could be finished forty minutes earlier.
“Unstimulating as usual,” Audra said. “Oh, and yesterday someone posted a sex vid of Kyle—”
“A fake sex vid of Kyle,” I corrected.
“And she thinks her life is…” Audra paused, sent a txt, then said, “All-caps OVER. But on the bright side, everyone now wants into her pants and thinks she has amazing tatas.”
I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me.
“Audra, I appreciate your effort to shock us with the content and quality of your language. Don’t you, honey?” The Mother directed her words to the Father. “It shows quite the need for attention and acceptance, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, dear.” The Father reached across the table without looking and patted empty air as if searching for his wife’s hand, but then he picked up the home-hub controller instead. “And I am oddly put at ease that our daughter still tries to shock us.”
As the New York Times banner filled the wallpaper screen behind her, Audra scoffed like it was an art form.
“I’m not trying to shock you. I was trying to converse with you.”
I never understood why Audra spoke to her parents, why her method of adapting in this household hadn’t evolved into simple one-word answers. I guess I had to admire her pluck.
“Oh, darling.” The Mother directed her voice at her husband again. “I had a breakthrough with the coked-out model today. Did I mention it?”
After what felt like a full minute’s pause, the Father replied, “You did.”
My Doc buzzed.
audy I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.
moi I know.
This family did the impossible and left me at a loss for words. Audra’s tiny nostrils flared as she snorted. I hurriedly added,
moi I don’t have the best relationship with my mom either, y’know. My life is officially far from perfect nowadays. At least when you and your mom fight, she sends you shopping to make up for it.
Audra glared at me. “You think I care about shopping? Your life is perfect—still. You’re just too na?ve to see it.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“For starters, your mother is an amazing woman.”
“Insult noted, Audra,” the Mother intoned.
“You two are going through a tough time,” Audra continued. “That is all. Meanwhile, a video drops of you and you’re instantly famous. People would kill for this much attention, and do a lot more to get it. Yet you can’t even see all the possibilities it presents.”
“Possibilities?”
“Yes, Kyle. You would be the perfect person to prove that being an intelligent female and a normal sexual being aren’t exclusive concepts. You can cast it as ‘For so long I struggled trying to fit into society’s good-girl stereotype. And then, bam! My secret was out. And look, I’m still the same intelligent, ambitious woman who rocks nice clothes.’ This could be hugely feminist. Yale would be tripping over itself to enroll you. I think you should be thanking whoever posted that video.”
Ever since I met her, Audra had been trying to get me to come out of my proverbial prude shell. But why couldn’t she see that as much as some of us—her, Fawn, that B&P chick—were huge, flaunting sexual beings, some of us weren’t. Why wasn’t that okay too?
“And don’t even get me started on Mac.”
“No, go ahead,” I said. “You’re clearly on a roll.”
Audra was practically standing now. “The primest papa at Prep trips over himself to see you smile, yet you hold him at arm’s length, Buddha only knows why—the best I can figure is because he’s acquired previous skills. Girls would kill to date Mac. Poor frickin’ you. Kylie, I would give anything—anything—to have your life even for one day.”
In a normal household, the parents would have interceded by now. I could swear the Father was taking notes. Meanwhile, the Mother took a tiny sip of wine, then raised the volume on her EarRing.
“For the last time, Audra Rhodes,” I said slowly and clearly, “I did not sleep with Mr. E.”
“Stop lying to me!”
Audra slammed down her silverware. She stared at her plate, her lower lip quivering. Then, composing her features, she said, “Looks like the grocery avatar forgot again that I’m pescatarian.”