Page 65 of The Beta Test

For the rest of the night we eat, play, and then watch a movie. It all feels familiar. Routine almost. But I can’t help but feel some of the unknowns about our family hanging over my head, despite trying to enjoy the here and now. Hunter seems completely oblivious, which I can’t blame him for—he’s only eight, after all.

The credits from the movie begin to scroll across the TV screen. Dad scootches to the edge of the couch opposite me and begins to pile plates to bring to the kitchen. Hunter’s asleep, his head tucked against the arm of a nearby recliner.

An urge to take advantage of this moment with just Dad overwhelms me, or perhaps it’s the catharsis of opening up to Jenna. All I know is that I want to bridge the gap between us.

“Dad,” I say quietly, “can I talk to you?”

He immediately stops stacking dishes, sets them down, and sits fully back on the couch with his body facing mine. “Of course. You can talk to me any time, Avey girl.”

I hesitate, feeling awkward after committing myself to this conversation. My mind flicks over the possible things to share, from Braden to the swim team. Then I think about how Dad was always the one to help me with school projects, even the year of the science fair when Analiese burned my project. He took me to the library, ran through flashcards with me, and did extra practice problems. Up until the past couple of years, Dad was truly a driving force behind my academic success.

“Yesterday, I had a meeting with Mrs. Nelson. My advisor.” I pause while fiddling with the edge of the blanket on my lap and glance at his face. He nods and waits patiently. “You know how I wanted to go to MIT with Braden next year, and I wanted to be valedictorian?”

He smiles. “You showed me your vision board every time we FaceTimed.”

I smile back, though it’s not with joy. I think of how my vision board sits now—with the MIT logo having fallen off entirely, sitting on my dresser like a symbol of my falling-apart life.

“Yeah, well, I found out I’m not valedictorian. Or salutatorian. Or even close at all. I’m currently ranked sixth.”

My shoulders crunch up with the shame of it all, eyes fixed on the blanket, bracing for his disappointed look. But what comes instead is his large hand gently grabbing my forearm.

“Avery, sixth place is amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

I look up, surprised. “You are?”

He laughs softly. “I’m pretty sure I was ranked 200th or something in my class.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can’t say academics were my focus in high school. You can still go to MIT if you want. But honestly… I’ve always been surprised at that choice for you.”

It’s been something I’ve talked about with Braden for so long, it feels weird to have the choice questioned. But it was always Braden’s dream, not mine. Or maybe it was actually Braden’s parents’ dream, as it turns out. Braden doesn’t seem to care about college at all these days, let alone MIT.

“Where else would I go?”

“Anywhere. You’re the one who runs the show. You organize things. You make plans happen. Maybe you can do something more along the lines of, I don’t know, maybe project management.” He pauses for a moment and removes his hand from my arm to rub his chin in thought. “Do you really, in your heart, feel like math or science are something you’re passionate about?”

I think about all the hours I spent with Braden doing math homework, or the hours I spent perfecting my science fair project. Did I want to do those things, or did I just want to impress Braden or beat Analiese? Maybe it wasn’t my own personal passion driving me.

Dad speaks again while I consider his point.

“I see the things you enjoy. How you love writing lists for yourself, color-code everything, create vision boards. You love that! You absolutely thrive on creating timelines and plans toward a goal. I think you’d be amazing as a project manager, and you don’t have to go to MIT to do that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I concede, then scoff lightly. “Does that mean I applied to all of the wrong colleges?”

“How many did you apply to?”

A shrug. “Like, twenty?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. It doesn’t seem like MIT is the best choice for you, and not because you can’t go if you wanted to make it happen. I just think, as your dad, you’d enjoy another direction for your future, and I definitely don’t want you to regret your choices.”

His last thought hangs in the air, a note of sadness or melancholy in his voice. It almost feels like he’s referring to himself rather than me. Does he regret his choices? Is that why he went from involved dad to jet-setting-across-the-world dad? He supported Mom through all of her years of med school and residency, which is why he was the primary parent for so many years. Does he wish he hadn’t?

I want to ask so badly, but it doesn’t seem like my place. The questions are on the tip of my tongue, but he stands with the plates in his hands before I can decide.

“I’m glad we talked, and that we got to spend this time together tonight. Can you help me clean this up before we wake Hunter for bed?”

“Yeah, but Dad…”