Wednesday, November 16, 2022

New York, 1947

My heels thumped against the threadbare carpet in the entranceway of our house. 

“I’m home!” I followed the smell of cooking tomatoes to the cramped kitchen.

Mother stirred a pot of soup, still wearing her waitress uniform of a blue dress and white apron. Her makeup couldn’t quite conceal the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Charlotte, how did it go?” 

I came over to help her, seizing a knife on the counter and mincing an onion harder than I perhaps needed to. The knife made a satisfying thud, thud, thud of steel against wood. “They said my application was ‘impressive.’ They invited me to join the Society.”

Mother flung her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could make it in.”

I gave a grudging smile. “There’s more, though.” I swallowed hard. “They want me to change my research paper… they want me to add false information.” 

Mother’s arms dropped away. “Why?”

I scooped up the chopped onion and dropped it into the bubbling pot. “They say it’s about keeping information away from the public that could be misused.”

Mother let out a breath. “At least that’s their only demand.”

“But it’s false.” My face twisted. “It doesn’t feel right to lie so that I can further my career.”

“I know, but joining the Society would change everything. You have your whole life ahead of you. And we need the money. Don’t throw away your life like your father did.” Her voice went soft. “I’d spin any lies they wanted if they’d pay for your brother's new pair of shoes.” She slammed a lid onto the soup. 

“Mother…” 

She left the kitchen. 

The scent of onion still lingered in the air. My eyes watered, blurring the cracked floor tiles so unlike the pristine Society building. Perhaps Mother was right—I was being selfish, and it was time to stop.