Page 13 of Like It's 1999

“Lovell. We had athletes—Kate and I ran track—but also a lot of nerds. Math and science. We especially hated Edwards—it was all party girls and final-club guys.”

“I thought you were a party girl.”

Sitting back in her seat, she puts her feet up on the dash. “These girls were professionals. I mean, I had to actually work to get through school. I swear those girls were drunk or high in class. If they ever showed up to class.”

“Yeah, that was me in school. Until it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

I catch her eye. “Didn’t Kate tell you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Focus back on the road, I sigh. “I got kicked out my senior year. For cheating.”

“That must have sucked.”

“It did.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I tucked my tail between my legs and begged this little college outside of Waltham to take me. I lived at home, commuted there, worked my ass off and graduated. But not with a degree from Tufts.”

“Kate never told me that. She’s pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, now you know mine.”

“Hey, you can’t learn from mistakes if you hide them.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that.” After a beat, I glance over to find her staring out the window. “So, what lessons has life served up for you?”

She huffs. “Well this Christmas, I learned that money can’t buy happiness.”

“Easy to say if you have it.”

“We haven’t always had it, believe me.” She kicks off a boot before propping a leg back up on the dashboard to pull up her parachute pants, revealing a muscled calf. “Ugh. This cuff is too tight to show you, but I have stretch marks on my knees and hips.”

“Stretch marks?”

“You know, like women get from pregnancy?” She slides the pant leg back down. “You also get them if you gain weight too fast. We didn’t have the greatest living conditions the year my mom and my brother and I were waiting in Korea for our visas. My dad was already here, but the rest of us had to stay with relatives. I remember being hungry, like, all the time. When we got here, I ate constantly, and I guess I grew too fast.”

After checking the map and taking the next turn, I ask, “You said you learned a lesson over Christmas. What happened?”

Flopping back into her seat, she groans. “My parents happened. It’s just never enough with them.”

“They really embraced the South, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like Scarlett O’Hara? ‘I’ll never be hungry again’?”

“Oh no, my mom would never make a dress for herself out of the curtains. It’s the whole keeping-up-with-the-Joneses thing.”

“That is very American.”

She turns to face me again. “So, this Christmas, my dad gave my mom a fur coat.”

“Because it’s so cold in Atlanta.”

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