There’s still time before my shift starts at the soup kitchen, so Teddy suggests going to the Lantern for pie.
“To celebrate,” he says, looking at us hopefully. “And to make some plans.”
I agree to come along, but Leo’s final paper—a critical look at the evolution of design in three of his favorite Pixar movies—is due tomorrow, so he needs to get home. As we walk him to the bus stop, he can’t stop talking about Teddy’s idea. “What if we also looked for people already doing something nice for others? Then we could reward them for that so they can do more. You know, pay it forward and all that.”
Teddy bobs his head. “I love it.”
“And I’ll design the website, obviously,” Leo continues. “We could even have a good deed of the week or something.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his notebook, flipping open to an empty page. “And cards. We should make calling cards to hand out with the money so that people who get inspired can report back on the site. And a logo! I could totally do a logo too. We just need a name.”
“I haven’t thought of one yet,” Teddy says. “You’re the creative brains behind this operation, so I’m sort of hoping you’ll come up with something brilliant.”
By the time we reach the stop they’ve hatched a thousand more plans, and when we part ways Leo is sitting on the metal bench, already scribbling furiously.
At the Lantern, Teddy holds the door open for me, then pulls out my chair at the table, and I can’t tell if he’s still in fake businessman mode or he’s just being unusually polite. We order two slices of blueberry pie from our usual waitress, then he sets down his menu and gives me a long look.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, twirling his water glass.
“For what?”
“For not telling you sooner. I was dying to, but I wanted it to be a surprise. And I needed to get everything sorted out first: filing the paperwork, sketching out the business plan, meeting with the accountant, working out the—”
“Teddy,” I say. “It’s okay. I’m really proud of you.”
The worry on his face disappears. “You are?”
“Of course. I think it’s incredible. And I can’t believe how far you’ve taken it already.”
He smiles at this, then lifts a hand, almost as if he’s about to reach for one of mine. But the waitress brings over our pie and he grabs his fork instead.
“Well, you were right,” he says, tucking into his slice. “I guess I just needed to be challenged. Who knew?”
“I did,” I say with a grin.
He winks at me. Teddy McAvoy is the only person I know who can pull off a wink. “So you’re on board, right?”
“With what?”
“I want you to be involved,” he says, taking a huge bite of his pie. “Especially now that you’re gonna be here next year. I mean, I know you’ll be busy with school, but you always manage to find time for this stuff, and now we’ll get to do it together.”
He finishes chewing and gives me a blue-tinted smile. I open my mouth to respond but realize I’m not sure what to say, and as the silence lengthens, his face falls.
“I know I pushed you too much about taking the money,” he says. “And I’m sorry. But this is different. It’s the kind of thing you’d have done if it was you, right?”
When I nod, his eyes brighten again.
“So what do you think? It could be anything you want. Program director? Chief operating officer? Global head of good deeds?”
I open my mouth to say yes. To say of course.
But nothing comes out.
Instead I just stare at him, though he doesn’t seem to notice. He waves his fork around as he chews. “It’s kind of perfect, you know? I’ll do all the big-picture stuff, and Leo will handle anything creative. And you’ll be in charge of outreach, since I can’t think of anyone better suited to figuring out how to give away a whole bunch of money.”
I take a bite of my pie, but it sticks in my throat. When I’ve finally managed to get it down, I drink half my glass of water, then lift my eyes to look at Teddy. “It sounds amazing.”
“Great,” he says, beaming at me.
“But I don’t think I can do it.”
He blinks a few times. “What?”
“I can’t do it,” I say, nearly as surprised as he is.
“Why not?”
As soon as it’s out there, the knot in my stomach unwinds. For some reason the image of the poster from the library flashes through my head, the one hanging in the children’s section: IT’S OKAY NOT TO KNOW. IT’S NOT OKAY NOT TO CARE.
Teddy is still staring at me, waiting for an explanation.
“I never learned to play the guitar,” I say, and the furrow in his brow deepens.
“What?”
“I always wanted to play. But I never had time to take lessons.”
He sets his fork down, his expression still stark.
“You know how I’ve been saying that college isn’t just about figuring out what you want to do—how it’s also about figuring out who you are?”
He blows out an exasperated breath. “Not this again.”
“I’m not talking about you,” I say patiently. “I’m talking about me. Do you have any idea how much time I’ve spent volunteering over the years?”
He picks at his pie. “A lot.”
“A lot,” I agree. “And I’m not sorry about it, because I was able to make a difference to a lot of people, and I know I did a lot of good. And I loved it. I still do. But I’m not sure my reasons were always…my own.”
Teddy’s face softens. “I know.”
“Actually, you’re the one who sort of helped me realize that. And you were right. I’ve always put my parents on a pedestal, and I’ve worked really hard to make them proud. But they’re not here anymore.” My voice cracks on this, and I stare at the pie on my plate. “They haven’t been for a long time.”
He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything.
“I don’t want to let them down. But I also can’t spend my whole life chasing after them. And I think the main thing they’d want is just for me to be happy,” I say firmly, as much for myself as for Teddy. But I know it’s true. It’s all anyone wants for me, and I feel a surge of good fortune at the thought, and even more than that, a sense of peace.
Because it’s what I want too.
I lift my eyes to meet Teddy’s. “I think your idea is wonderful,” I say, packing as much as I can into that last word. “And I’d love to help out with it here and there.”
“But you don’t want to run it with us.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think I do.”
Teddy sits back hard in his chair, as if absorbing a great impact. He looks more than just disappointed. He looks crushed, and a cold, heavy dread settles in my chest. All along I thought it was the money that would send us careening down different paths. But maybe it’s this.
You pick one thing, and your life goes one way.
You pick something else, and it’s completely different.
This thing he’s about to do: I believe in it. But I’ve spent a lot of years trying to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Now I want to try doing the right thing for me.
Still, it feels like I’m turning down more than just an opportunity to help launch a nonprofit. It’s almost as if I’m losing something else too.
Even if that something is just a possibility.
Even if that possibility isn’t even a very likely one.
He’s still watching me from across the table, and after a moment he nods: once, then again. When he smiles, it doesn’t quite make it up to his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying. “Well,” he says, picking up his fork again. “Maybe one day.”
“Maybe one day.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “After you’ve learned to play the guitar.”
“And a few other things,” I say, thinking again of what Aunt Sofia told Leo that night so long ago, when he asked what my other word might be.
That, she said, is up to Alice.
For the first time in a long time I feel electric with the possibilities. And this time, when the question arrives, I’m ready for it.
“Like what?” Teddy asks, and I grin at him.
“I guess we’ll have to see.”