If I did better, she changed the category.
Grades were less important than personality.
Internships were less important than stability.
Law school was “a lot of debt for a stressful job.”
When I started practicing, she told relatives I had “some legal position in Washington.”
I eventually stopped correcting her.
It was easier.
Or I had thought it was.
Lauren was still staring at Daniel.
“You told me Amelia did administrative work.”
There it was.
Not Mom this time.
Daniel.
His face tightened.
“I said she worked at a law office.”
“You said she handled paperwork.”
“Lawyers handle paperwork.”
Lauren did not smile.
Her father leaned back slowly.
The atmosphere had changed.
This was no longer about my profession.
It was about why my brother had needed Lauren to misunderstand it.
Daniel tried to laugh.
“This is ridiculous.
Amelia doesn’t care what people think about her job.
Do you?”
He looked at me with the old expectation.
Help me.
Smooth it over.
Be the difficult child in private and the accommodating one in public.
I folded my hands in my lap.
“I care when people describe it inaccurately.”
Daniel’s smile disappeared.
Mom stepped in.
“Nobody was trying to describe anything inaccurately.
Daniel was probably just simplifying.”
Lauren’s mother looked at her.
“Why would it need simplifying?”
Mom opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The judge’s expression became more thoughtful than friendly.
“Amelia,” he said, “forgive me if this is too personal, but when I asked who you were to them, everyone reacted as though I had asked something dangerous.”
My mother went rigid.
I could feel Daniel staring at me.
I could also feel the familiar pull to protect them from the consequences of their own behavior.
That instinct had been trained into me so deeply that even after all these years, it arrived before anger.
Make the room comfortable.
Change the subject.
Say it was nothing.
I looked at Lauren.
She deserved at least one honest answer in the house where she was preparing to join our family.
“My mother called me last night,” I said.
Mom closed her eyes briefly.
Daniel whispered, “Amelia.”
I continued.
“She told me Lauren’s father was a federal judge.
