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Well, the food was good. Cambridge Thai restaurants had a clear win over the single Thai restaurant back home that served generous portions of distinctly unappetizing dishes. And the company was entertaining, if not alternately overwhelming or altogether intelligible.
Erin had kept up a stream of information regarding Massachusetts politics ("A tangled web of corruption, nepotism, and general discombobulation"), the hierarchy of Harvard professors and chances for tenure ("Dominated by a goddamn miserable social infrastructure!"), and the history of Boston's public transportation system ("A toxic blend of poor planning and archaic engineering"). Just when she feared Erin might absolutely run out of breath and collapse face-first into her meal, Julie managed to ask Roger what he did for work, prompting the quieter man to let loose a slew of information.
"I'm particularly drawn to the study of nutrient dynamics and interdisciplinary investigations of coastal habitats." Erin's husband Roger was now in the middle of a complex explanation about his most recent research paper. He was a researcher at the Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography and had received a grant to travel to Southeast Asia. "But my trip will focus primarily on shrimp defense mechanisms and immunomodulation to enhance sustainability and reduce antibiotic usage in shrimp culture."
Julie poked at her curry. "Shrimp culture. Yes." She essentially had no idea what Roger was talking about, but she enjoyed his enthusiasm. He had a real Dad look about him: button-down shirt, khaki pants, loafers with no socks, thinning gray hair, soft blue eyes, and charming wrinkles that appeared when he even hinted at a smile.
Roger adjusted his wire glasses and leaned his thin frame into the table, gesticulating with a forkful of chicken satay. Despite his flailing hand motions, his voice was soft, soothing. "Refining techniques to determine the activity of shrimp defense mechanisms is important. Pagocytic activity, phenoloxidase activity, and of course, bacterial clearance ability. There will be a lot to explore on this trip." He spilled some peanut sauce onto the cuff of his wrinkled button down shirt and smudged it dry with a napkin. "Which reminds me that I have to go back to the office tonight. I've got more paperwork that needs to be filled out for the grant commission."
Erin reached for the container of ginger noodles. "I have to go to the office tonight, too. I've got mountains of work ahead of me, and I still have to finalize the syllabus for the classes I'm teaching this semester. My apologies, Julie. And, Matt , classes start next week for you, too, so you should get a jump-start gathering materials for your independent study. I'm sure you could find something more challenging than the last set of articles I saw you reading." She frowned at him.
Matt remained expressionless, as he had through most of the meal. "Sure. I'd love to." There was an edge to his voice that momentarily silenced the table.
Erin set her fork down. "Matthew, don't sulk. One of those articles you were fussing over had been published in some unheard-of journal, and it was beneath you."
"Maybe Julie can help Matt?" Celeste suggested.
Julie looked across the table and smiled at Celeste. The thirteen-year-old was breathtaking, and Julie found it impossible not to be drawn in by her appearance alone. She looked like one of those pitiable children forced to don ridiculous wings and pose for angel-themed calendars. But with that long blond hair that fell in wild waves and penetrating blue eyes, Celeste was positively... Well, ethereal, appropriately enough.
"Celeste, I'm sure Julie has zero interest in helping me root through online article databases," Matt said. "Not everyone finds the American Institute of Physics as titillating as I do."
"Oh!" Celeste clapped her hand to her mouth, stifling laughter. "Matt said a bad word!"
"I said titillating, not tit."
"Now you said a bad word!" Celeste squealed.
Erin sighed loudly. "Matthew, is that necessary?"
"It's just a little dinnertime social intercourse, Mom. Nothing to get upset about. Besides, you're the one who's prone to flinging around terms like penal system, rectify, and annals of law."
"Matthew! That is enough!" Erin spoke loudly in order to be heard over Celeste's stream of giggling. Erin wrinkled her forehead in disapproval, but Julie detected the beginning of a smile. "Celeste, get control of yourself."
Julie had to bite her cheek to stop Celeste's laughter from rubbing off on her. "Anyway, I'm sure I would be more of a hindrance to Matt than a help. Maybe after I get a semester of college under my belt."
Celeste, who had managed to compose herself, studied Julie's face. "You look too smart to be going to Whitney."
"Good God, Celeste!" Erin said sharply. "Julie, I apologize. I don't know what is going on with this dinner."
Julie laughed. "It's OK. I'll take it as a compliment. I know that Whitney isn't the most prestigious school."
"How did you choose Whitney?" Roger asked. "You're pretty far from home. Is there a program there that you're very interested in?"
Julie didn't know how to answer this. She was aware that studying at Whitney probably wasn't looked at with high regard by the Harvard/MIT/Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography crowd at the table. "I guess I just wanted to try something new. Move to a big city. And to be honest, I didn't get in to some of the other places I applied," Julie admitted. "Even though my grades and test scores were good, my high school's reputation probably didn't carry much weight with admissions offices. I did get into a few other schools that would have been great, but I didn't get the financial aid I would need. I'm going to have big loans to pay off as it is."
"Whitney is a good school," Erin reassured her. "The college admission process is nearly impossible to navigate. And you can always transfer to another school if you do well at Whitney."