Cynda and the City Doctor - Theodora Taylor Page 0,56

a line about how he had made the rather boring choice of becoming a doctor and going to work for DBCare.

Most of the articles I found about him involved his split from Ingrid, who like his mother, was the daughter of a wealthy businessman. The breakup had come right around the time when the final merger papers were supposed to be signed after the two families had been operating together in good faith for years. Quite a few business papers wondered if the deal would even go through. And other less reputable sources wondered if Aleksander’s father would allow him to continue on with the stateside version of the company. Apparently, Aleksander was estranged from his family for a few months after calling off the wedding.

Reading all those scandalized articles, a new question breaks through my daze of anger.

Why? Why did he throw away his future as the prince of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate for me?

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting any possible conclusion I could have drawn.

“Yes, A?” I call out. It’s easy to distinguish the twins’ knocks. Unfortunately, I think pretty much every geeky boy who grew up watching Big Bang Theory thinks frenetic knocking is the best way to get someone to answer the door. Thanks for that, Sheldon.

A opens the door. “Can you come out here?” he asks, his eyes wide with panic. “Sis is acting crazy!”

“What are you doing?” I find E throwing clothes into a suitcase after following A into her room.

“Packing!” she answers. Her chest is heaving like packing is some kind of cardio.

But it’s not exertion that has her breathing hard, I surmise with a quick diagnosis. She’s angry. After years of watching her lose roles to less talented actresses because the former head of the Thespian club couldn’t envision a brown girl in a traditionally White role, I recognized this routine. She was angry, but she had trouble expressing her anger. So she packed all that anger into action, huffing and puffing around until it faded and she could go on with her life.

Most often she cleaned. Usually just her room. But last year, when a much-less talented cheerleader named Clara Reynolds was cast as Sandy in Grease, simply because she looked, as the former Thespian director put it, “more believable” in the part, E had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom.

However, now she’s packing. I glance down at the suitcase then back up at her, “Where do you think you’re going exactly?”

“Pittsburgh!” she answers.

I find myself shaking my head again for the second time that day. “Carnegie Mellon doesn’t start until the fall,” I remind her.

If then. All the news reports are still up in the air about whether many colleges and universities will be able to re-open in the fall.

“I found a room to sublet in Pittsburgh. This girl whose roommate bailed on the lease without warning her. She says I can have the room for $600 a month.”

“Where are you going to get $600?” I ask.

“I called my dad. He said he’d pay it.”

“Is this the same dad that’s been promising to visit you for three years straight and hasn’t shown up once?” I ask.

E abruptly stops throwing clothes into her suitcase. “You don’t know him?” Her voice is indignant. “He’s had a lot of time to think now that he’s not touring. And he said he was sorry for not being a better dad to me before.”

I’m sure he’s had a lot of time to think. Tucked away wherever he is right now because it’s definitely not here in Missouri taking care of his kids.

Don’t touch your mouth, nose, or eyes, all the COVID experts say. But it’s really hard not to scrub a weary hand over my face as I ask, “How long is he going to pay this rent? What happens when the world opens back up and he goes back on tour?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. I’ll get a job.”

“A job where?”

“Somewhere! Anywhere!” E grabs her favorite pillow. “I don’t know why you’re asking me all these stupid questions.”

“I’m asking you all these logical questions because I’m responsible for you.” I snatch the pillow with the silk case out of her hands before she can throw that in the suitcase, too. “I don’t know what this is really about, but if you’d just wait until the fall, I’ll have enough money from rent and the sale of the house to buy us all an apartment.”

“You’re not responsible for us,” E