I tried to find words to respond, but came up short. Because in reality, I hadn’t told myself why I wanted to do something else. I just felt tired of where I was now.
“It’s partly that, but it’s a little bit more selfish, I’m afraid.” I shifted in my chair, the conversation making me a little restless. This was never easy for me. I was so much better at listening to people’s problems than asking for help about my own.
“The thing is, even though there’s a lot about this work I love—and it’s definitely meaningful—I’m not sure it’s really what I want to do. My dad did this kind of work, and he was great at it. It was his calling, you know? Everyone I’ve ever met overseas who worked with him always talks about him with such reverence. I just don’t know if it’s what I’m meant to do.”
I felt exposed and vulnerable for talking about this. The one huge thing that I’d always known but never wanted to look at so closely.
But when I brought my gaze up to Elias, there was no judgment in his eyes. Then he spoke, and I felt something that I rarely did, even with Lucía. Elias got me. “This work is not for everyone. Even for those who love it, after some time, it makes sense to move on.”
I breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled before answering, feeling like this conversation was loosening something that had been coiled tightly in my chest for as long as I could remember, sapping my energy without me knowing. “I started out wanting to follow in his footsteps, not just for myself so much, but for my mom. When my dad died, it was like a light went out inside of her, and I was desperate to turn it back on.”
I shook my head at the memories of those first few months after my dad died, when we were both like husks walking around our house, obfuscated from grief.
“For a long time, the only moments when she would light up were when she talked about their work and the places they’d been. What they’d done together. I wanted to give some of that back to her, but now I need something different. And it makes me feel like shit because it’s an honor to do this work.”
My chest tightened again from what I wanted to say next. My sexuality had not come up again since that conversation with Tsehay. Elias finding out I was gay had not changed much between us, and I imagined it was partly because we’d steered clear of it since that day. Even after we finished Aristotle and Dante, he’d just commented on how much he’d liked it without going into much detail. But for some reason, tonight I wanted to push. Hear what he really thought about that part of me. It was stupid and selfish to put him in an awkward position like this, but it seemed vital to know he was okay with that part of me too. “I also struggle with how much of my personal life I have to keep under wraps while I’m overseas.”
Elias pulled back then, his back straightening, and I could see his shoulders tense. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, looking a little panicked. Immediately I felt ashamed of hijacking the conversation and making it about me.
I shook my head and took a big gulp of my beer. “I totally took over this conversation. We were talking about you. It sounds like you’re not sure if you want to go. Would you come back after you’re finished?”
Elias raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands in a gesture of concession before he answered, “You just said a lot of things I would like to hear more about, but I will let you get away with changing the subject.” It was like he could see right through me. “And yes, I am conflicted. I know it’s an amazing opportunity, and I would be foolish not to take it, but I’m scared leaving will make it hard for me to come back, and the idea of not returning feels like I’d be betraying my country…and myself.”
My impulse was to minimize, say something like don’t put all that on yourself or it’s your life and you do what you need to. But then I thought about my own struggle. I knew very well that deciding between what made me happy and disappointing those I loved could sometimes feel insurmountable. When I looked at the lines around his mouth, I saw the tension this conversation was bringing up for him. Elias would get my struggle better than most; his own was very close to mine. That realization made me feel more understood than I had in a very long time. “That’s a really big burden to carry.”
I sat there, quietly giving him more time to say what was on his mind. After we distracted ourselves with taking sips of beer and attempting to finish the pizza on our plates, Elias finally continued. “I guess it will depend on how I feel once I experience life in a different place. How I take to it, you know? I love Addis, and my family is here, but sometimes I want to have more freedom too.”
I cocked my head to the side, not completely certain I understood what he was saying, and was cautious not to make any assumptions. “Do you mean like not living with family?”
He sat very still for a moment, then shook his head. “You know what, it’s not important.”
I leaned even closer, desperate for him to go on. “No, I want to know. I mean, unless you don’t want to tell me your entire life history like I just did to you.”
He smiled, and his head came a little closer to mine. It was like our bodies were trying to
