“We’re going to play the Quiet Game,” I announced in a clipped, officious tone. “First one to talk will have to forfeit their iPad for the remainder of the drive to the lake. That is non-negotiable. Ready? Quiet Game starting in… one, two, three…now.”
It was as if someone hit the mute button on a TV. The decibel level went from a million to zero in a flash. I sat up straighter in my seat. Admittedly, I felt triumphant. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
David gazed at me, astonished.
“It works because it’s a consequence they can understand, and it’s something that will happen immediately. Add in a little competition, and you have cooperation.”
David’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Lucky for me you’re very resourceful and extremely practical,” he said, which almost made me laugh.
If I’m good at anything, it’s beingimpractical.
I realize that’s not something I should be proud of. Honestly, it’s caused me all kinds of grief.
I always strive to do the right thing, but occasionally, my impulsivity leads me astray. Like when I went to a party and usedlighter fluid to ignite a bonfire that nobody could get started. My approach proved so effective that the fire department showed up to extinguish the blaze. Or when I chopped off all my hair to donate to Locks of Love without telling my mother first. She came into the bathroom and thought I had adopted a Persian cat, until she realized what I had done. No big shock—she was horrified with the result. Then there was that time my freshman year in college, when I spent all my summer savings for textbooks on a bus ticket to New York to go to a rave with a hot guy from my journalism class. My date turned out to be a dud, but the rave was epic.
I don’t do a lot of self-exploration, but I think my impulsivity is rooted in anxiety, which runs in my family. In my mother’s world, a cold is pneumonia, you can drown in a tablespoon of water, and a stray dogmustbe rabid. She’s a wonderful person, and I love her dearly, but with her, the glass is always half-empty and about to topple over. I’ve read about generational trauma, and I think she’s passed her worries on to me. But instead of becoming immobilized by fear, I get so flooded with adrenaline that my rational mind shuts off.
Practical or not, it was a relief that the kids took the Quiet Game seriously. Both were silent as church mice while lost in their electronics.
“The drive seems to get harder each year,” David lamented. “I wish we lived closer to the lake, but their mother is still a New Yorker, and I don’t want to be far from them.”
Bonus points for being a caring dad.
“Where in New York do you live?” I asked. I’m thinking Long Island, based on his accent. When you’re a Vermonter you get to know the dialects of your New York neighbors.
“Manhattan, Upper East Side, near my ex,” David said. “Hate the neighborhood. It’s full of obnoxiously rich people.”
Funny, I had assumed David was one of them. He owned a fancy new car, and when we spoke by phone, he went on and on about hismassive lake house renovation. Which made me realize I had no idea what he did for a living.
“I’m a talent scout for the entertainment industry,” he said in answer to my question.
“Oh, you don’t need to live in LA for that?”
He brushed my assumption aside with a wave of his hand. “Nah, New York is a gold mine. TV, movies, advertising, modeling, you name it, we scout it.” He looked me over in an assessing fashion. “There’s actually a screen-like quality about you,” he said. “If you get headshots done, you know where to send them.”
Yeah,I think.One Creepy Lane, P.O. Box Ina-pro-pro.
Maybe it was a harmless comment, a genuine compliment, but it was a good reminder to keep my wits about me.
“But you better hurry if you’re going to take me up on my offer,” he added. “I might not be in the business much longer.”
He smiled cryptically. I could tell he wanted me to ask the logical follow-up question, so I obliged.
“Why is that?”
“A friend of mine started a company that imports electronic components—the stuff big tech companies like Oracle and Amazon use to make hardware. He knew a semiconductor shortage was coming and had first dibs on a huge supply of these high-demand parts. He was looking for an investor to help purchase them, and I jumped at the opportunity. Let’s just say, my bet paid off… and then some. Now I make a cut of the company profits, which is how I paid for the lake house remodel in cash. At this rate, I may be able to retire by fifty!”
And this is where David came into sharper focus. At first I put him in the Silicon Valley tech mogul category, but he’s more boastful than savvy. I sense he’s got street smarts, like a hustler who finally struck gold. That’s not a bad thing; he’s certainly a lot more down-to-earth and relatable than a Wall Street financier worth untold millions. But he seems to be something of a contradiction. He’s rich, but unrefined; well-dressed, and yet somehow rough aroundthe edges. He’s definitely charming, I’ll give him that. But at the same time, I get the feeling he might also play dirty.
The rest of the car ride wasn’t too bad. The kids behaved for the remainder of the trip, even after Brody lost the Quiet Game twenty minutes before we reached our destination.
I texted my mother as we pulled into the driveway. I told her that I got here safely (true). Housing is fine (also true, and big and glassy). There’s a great coffee shop near the office (aka the kitchen). Mostly I’ll be working and it’s an amazing learning opportunity (true as well). And it’s also amazing how easy it is to justify my deceit.
Since Mom follows me online, I won’t be posting any pictures to social. I still feel terrible lying to her, but she’d never have allowed me to come here, not in a million years.
But here I am.
The moment I get out of the car after that long ride, eager to stretch my legs, a woman standing nearby shoots me a judgmental look that can’t be misinterpreted. She eyes me up and down as though the front of my shirt reads “Hussy” and the back of it “Ho.” This must be Julia, with her daughter, Taylor. David gave me the rundown on the lake crew before we arrived. While Julia glares, Taylor is oblivious to my presence. That’s because Brody and Becca are all over her like excited puppies.
