Again, But Better

YU London Study Abroad—Premed
Track
brochure that I forged last semester. I trekked down to the
YU study abroad office, took a brochure for each track offered
in London, and put together a masterpiece.
“Guess what? I’m going to Rome this weekend!” I deflect.
Mom full-on gasps. “But you just got there.”
Dad’s brows knit together. “How much is that gonna cost?”
“Don’t worry, I’m using the money I’ve saved from working
over breaks.”
Mom’s lips fall into a worried frown.
“And what happens when that runs out?” Dad asks bluntly.
Mom’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sal!”
“Hey! I’m just lookin’ out for our daughter.”
“I’ll work over the summer. Dad, this is a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity.”
He sighs. “Well, that’s great, I guess. Headed to the
homeland, eh?” He smiles like he’s been to Italy.
“And you guys said learning Italian wouldn’t come in
handy,” I add in a silly voice. Dad waves his hands
dismissively.
Mom scoots her chair closer to the desktop and leans in
toward the camera. “Make sure you’re careful! You’re wearing
the cross-body purse like we talked about, right?”

---

“How’s class? This travel won’t affect your studies?” Dad
asks.
“Have you made friends in your program?” Mom smiles.
“Are you sleeping well? Eating healthy?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Ma, and everything’s going great! And
yeah, um, one of my roommates is in my program … Sahra’s
premed.”
Mom’s smile stretches. “Good! That’s great, Shane.” And
then, just as quickly, it droops. “Oh my god, Shane, your nails!”
I quickly move my hands out of the shot. “Ma!”
“What did I tell you about leaving old nail polish on? It’s
not professional. Let me see your nails again. They look
terrible, Shane. Go out and get some nail polish remover.”
“Okay. I’ll pick some up.”
Dad interrupts. “You seeing any guys out there?”
I drop my head into my hands. “Dad,” I groan.
“Shane, really, your nails.”
I shove my hands under my thighs. “No! I’m not seeing any
guys, gah! I’ve only been here for, like, three days. What’s
going on there?”
Dad looks pointedly into the camera with his eyes all wide.
“You know it’s okay for you to date people. I never said you
can’t date!” This is, like, the third time we’ve been through this
spiel. Dad’s already worried I’m going to die alone. Either that
or he’s worried I’m gay. I have to check Dad and Uncle Dan on
homophobic crap all the time.
I roll my eyes. “Oh my god, Dad, I never thought you did.”
“You gotta stop sitting around with those books all the
time!”
I close my eyes and suck in a cleansing breath.
Mom sighs. “Are the classes harder or easier than YU?”

---

I shrug and wave my hands. “Um, yeah, they’re different.
My teachers have accents and stuff.”
“What does that mean? Do accents make things harder—”
“Oh my god. Wait! I haven’t told you about the grocery
store. You guys…” I jump into my Tesco story, and it’s
extremely satisfying to see them react just as drastically as I did
when I tell them about the sauce selection. When the story
concludes, I tell them I have to go.
Mom comes close to the camera again, “Okay, love you! 
Be
very careful! Be smart!
”
“Yeah, listen to your mother!”
I roll my eyes. “I always listen to my mother, and I’m
always smart!”
“Do something about your nails!” Mom exclaims.
I hang up, sagging as a breath 
whooshes
out of me.
1/12/11 11:45 p.m.
Bad news: Hardcore lying to my parents is already
eating me up from the inside.
Good news: Card night was a giant hit!
I think I bonded with Sahra! Just when I thought she
didn’t want to be friends, she offered to pick up
dinner for card night. She was on the way out for her
internship interview, and she turned around and said:
“Hey, should I grab everyone shawarma for card
night later?”
I had no idea what the heck shawarma was, but I
obviously said yes. Babe, Pilot, and I were all
shawarma noobs before tonight.
SHANE MEETS SHAWARMA: A RETELLING
Sahra carefully unloaded wrapped food items from a
white paper bag and distributed them among us.

---

Before I had even touched mine, Pilot had
unwrapped his and taken a bite.
“It’s SO GOOD,” he told us through a mouthful.
Babe agreed around her own mouthful with a
vigorous head bob.
“I know.” Sahra plopped down at the table with us.
I dropped my gaze to the wrap before me. There were
pickles in it. I’m not a pickle fan, but it smelled great,
like really well-marinated chicken, so I kneaded
away the paper at snail speed before hesitantly
taking a bite. And then another. Because it was
delicious and full of new taste combos I’ve never had
together before. Pickles were made to be in
shawarma.
“This is amazing!” I raised the wrap. “We should do
this again next week.”
“Totally vote we make Flat Three shawarma a
weekly thing!” Babe seconded.
Sahra laughed, looking pleased. “Shawarma
Wednesdays?”
“Shwednesdays,” Pilot pronounced.
“I’m down.” Sahra smiled.
And so, tonight, Shwenesday was born.
We used my Beatles cards. I showed off a little and
shuffled the cards fancy. Leo and I once spent a
whole day teaching
ourselves card tricks. His little
brother Alfie was our official shuffle-off judge.
Babe was all impressed with me. “How did you do
that?”
I told them I was a professional, and then proceeded
to mess up my bridge, spewing cards across the
table. Embarrassment hit me hard for half a second,
but then I snorted, Pilot made fun of me, and we all
broke into laughter.

---

I taught everyone Rummy 500. Sahra put up a good
fight. It came down to one hand in the end, but I won.
Pilot’s girlfriend came up once. Out of the blue, Babe
asked if Amy (that’s her) liked to play cards. Pilot
said it wasn’t her thing. The question was followed by
an extended moment of awkward silence. I started
sweating, stood to grab a glass of water, and my
chair flipped backward, filling the void with the clash
of metal on tile. I growled involuntarily, Babe and
Pilot exploded into laughter again, and Atticus
walked through the door just in time to join us for the
next round. So, all in all, a good night.

---