Her shrug said, Your turn.
I said, “I get the feeling real estate isn’t a strong interest of yours.”
“Who knows? I’m thinking of becoming an architect, so I can’t hate it that much. Actually, I don’t hate business at all, not like some other kids do. It’s just that I’d rather build something than be a … I’d rather be productive.”
“Rather than be a what?”
“I was going to say scavenger. But that’s not fair to my father. He doesn’t cause anyone else to fail. He’s just there to seek opportunities. Nothing wrong with that, it’s just not what I’d like to do—actually, I have no idea what I’d like to do.” She rang an imaginary bell. “Dah-dah, big insight. I have no goals.”
“What about architecture?”
“I probably just say that to tell people something when they ask me. For all I know, I might end up despising architecture.”
“Do any subjects in school interest you?” I said.
“I used to like science. For a while, I thought medicine
might be a good choice. I took all the A.P. science courses, got fives on the exams. Now I don’t know.”
“What changed your mind?” The death of your scientist mother?
“It just seems .. . well, for one, medicine’s not what it used to be, is it? Becky told me her father can’t stand his job anymore. All the HMOs telling him what he can and can’t do. Dr. Manitow calls it mismanaged care. After all that school, it would be nice to have some occupational freedom. Do you like your job?”
“Very much.”
“Psychology,” she said, as if the word were new. “I was more interested in real science—oh, sorry, that was rude! What I meant was hard science …”
“No offense taken.” I smiled.
“I mean, I do respect psychology. I was just thinking more in terms of chemistry and biology. For myself. I’m good with organic things.”
“Psychology is a soft science,” I said. “That’s part of what I like about it.”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“The unpredictability of human nature,” I said. “Keeps life interesting. Keeps me on my toes.”
She thought about that. “I had one psych course, in my junior year. Non-honor track, actually a Mickey Mouse. But it ended up being interesting…. Becky went nuts with it, picking out every symptom we learned about and pinning it on someone. Then she got real cold to me—don’t ask me why, I don’t know. Don’t care, either, we haven’t shared common interests since the Barbies got stored in the closet. . . . No, I don’t think any kind of medicine’s for me. Frankly, none of it seems too scientific. My mother saw every species of doctor known to mankind and no one could do a thing for her. If I ever decide to do anything with my life, I think I’d like it to be more productive.”
“Something with quick results?”
“Not necessarily quick,” she said. “Just valid.” She pulled the ponytail forward, played with the crimped edges. “So what if I’m unfocused. I’m the second child, isn’t that normal? My brother has enough focus for both of us, knows exactly what he wants: to win the Nobel Prize in economics, then make billions. One day you’ll read about him in Fortune.”
“That is pretty specific.”
“Eric’s always known what he wants. He’s a genius— picked up The Wall Street Journal when he was five, read an article on supply and demand in the soybean market and gave his kindergarten class a lecture the next day.”
“Is that a family tale?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“It sounds like something you might’ve heard from your parents. Unless you remember it yourself. But you were only three.”
“Right,” she said. Confused. “I think I heard it from my father. Could’ve been my mother. Either of them. My father still tells the story. It probably was him.”
Mental note: What stories does Dad tell about Stacy?
“Does that mean something?” she said.
“No,” I said. “I’m just interested in family tales. So Eric’s focused.”
“Focused and a genius. I mean that literally. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Not a nerd, either. Aggressive, tenacious. Once he sets his mind on something, he won’t let go.”