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“Really? But you loved it so much,” I say, surprised at his admission.

“True, I really did. But it took time to adjust to what was new.”

“Remember when I had to move up to a longer driver? That was so hard and I sucked for a while until I got used to it,” Eugene says. “I cried, too.”

“I’m working for a new brand right now and it’s different than before. The expectations just feel a lot higher now,” Cybil admits.

I whip my head around to face her. She’s never acknowledged any struggle before. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry it’s been hard,” I say.

She doesn’t look up at me. She just shrugs it away. I won’t force her to say more. But I notice Mom’s eyes on her eldest. She’ll find a way to get through to Cybil.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Irene. Just do your best. Dad and I noticed how everyone we met at Parents Day held you in such high regard. Seems you’ve got a lot of good people around you who can support you. And, of course, you’ve got us. You can come home any time you need a break.” My mom’s smile is warm and understanding.

I grab a handful of french fries and stuff them in my mouth. We’re not a touchy-feely kind of family so I don’t want to freak anyone out by being emotional. I’m just so grateful for everyone’s small admissions that make me realize I’m not the only one.

“May I be excused to go play video games?” Eugene asks.

“Yeah, I gotta go, too. I have a date,” Cybil announces.

Dad starts clearing the table. “You two rest, I’ve got this,” he says to me and Mom.

“So, tell me more about this boy,” Mom says, turning to me.

I take a sip from my Coke and think about what I want to share. I’d usually just be very vague, and only share the best parts with my mom. But I want to start being more honest. For me and for them.

“He’s great. I’m just... not so great back. I don’t know how to be good to him, when I struggle being good to myself.”

“Well, that’s classic Irene, isn’t it?” She smiles. “Alwaysthinking of everyone else, not wanting to burden, afraid to disappoint. I used to think it was because you were the middle child and didn’t want to stand out so you made all your efforts about everyone else. But I’ve come to realize it’s just how your heart is. Even with your internet book stuff. You put all that work into it so that other people can find books to love as much as you do. You’re quite amazing.”

She reaches over and lays her hand on top of mine.

I try to process her words. Is this how she sees me? My mother, who I think probably knows me best of all?

“I’m not feeling really amazing right now. I’m not doing well in my classes, Mom. I let a lot of stuff slide. I couldn’t focus on anything, so I just gave up on everything.” It feels good to admit this to someone, especially someone who I’d worried about disappointing the most.

She nods, taking it all in. “Well, let’s figure out how to help you get back on track. And then we should consider if you are in the right classes in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I worry you went to Brighton just for Daddy. I worry you’re studying to be an editor just for me. Of course we get carried away and are excited selfishly. But above everything, we’re your parents, and we want you to be happy and successful. We don’t want to force you into our dreams—we want you to find your own.”

“I’m not sure what I want, Mom. I think that’s the problem,” I admit.

“Well, if you take away everything you think everyone wants from you, if you stop trying to please everyone else, what do you love to do?”

I don’t even hesitate.

“I love reading romance books. I love talking about them, recommending them to other people.”

“We could look into seeing if Brighton has a Library Sciences program. Or maybe you could consider finding a part-time job as a bookseller? There are so many options. College is for you to find yourself. Don’t drown under the expectations of others. And even if you figure out college itself isn’t what you want, we’ll try to find the best way to tell your dad that Brighton didn’t work out for you.” She smiles, and it makes me laugh.

I lay my head down on top of our hands. She runs her fingers through my hair with the other. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe. I don’t have the answers, but I know I want to look for them.

And here, at this dinner table where I’ve always felt unremarkable, like I didn’t quite have a place, like I needed to prove myself to everyone else, I realize I’ve been wrong. I’ve had a place all along. And that’s what makes me the most remarkable of all.

I go upstairs, change into my pj’s and crawl into bed. Turns out admissions and emotions are all exhausting.

I itch to read something, something new.