I set down my fork.
“Victoria, tell Emily what your new salary is.”
“Dad.”
Victoria laughed.
“That’s tacky.”
“Go on. She should know what ambition can achieve.”
Victoria shrugged.
“Let’s just say it’s substantial.”
“Seven figures,”
Dad announced proudly.
“My daughter, seven figures.”
The table fell silent. Everyone looked at me.
“That’s wonderful,”
I said quietly.
Dad leaned forward.
“So, Emily, what’s new with you? Still teaching those… what are they?”
“Eighth graders. Seventh and eighth.”
He nodded slowly.
“Right. And that little ceremony you mentioned. When is that again?”
“Tuesday.”
“Ah.”
He picked up his wine.
“Teacher appreciation thing.”
“It’s the National Teacher of the Year—”
“Right. Right.”
He waved his hand.
“Cute.”
Victoria tilted her head, that familiar condescending smile playing on her lips.
“So, Em, what exactly does a teacher make these days, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I knew where this was going.
“Around fifty-two thousand a year.”
Victoria glanced at Mark, suppressing a laugh.
“Honey, that’s less than my monthly bonus.”
Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dad nodded gravely.
“You see, Emily, this is exactly what I’ve been saying. Teaching has no future, no growth potential. You’re smart. You could have done anything.”
“I did do something.”
My voice stayed level.
“I chose to teach.”
“But why?”
Mom leaned forward, genuinely confused.
“You could have been a lawyer like Victoria or gone into business like your father. Instead, you’re stuck in some classroom with other people’s children.”
“I love my students.”
“Love doesn’t pay the bills,”
Dad said.
“My bills are paid.”
“Barely,”
Victoria sipped her wine.
“I mean, that apartment you live in? No offense, but it’s kind of…”
“Kind of what?”
She shrugged.
“Sad. It’s sad, Emily.”
I set my napkin down slowly, deliberately.
“I’m sorry my life doesn’t meet your standards.”
“We’re just worried about you.”
Mom’s voice took on that wounded tone she used like a weapon.
“As your family, we—”
“Good at being underpaid, maybe,”
Victoria muttered under her breath, but I heard every word.
Then something unexpected happened. Mark cleared his throat. He leaned toward me, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“For what it’s worth, I think what you do matters. My third-grade teacher changed my life.”
Our eyes met. He nodded once, then looked away. I filed that moment away, the first hint of an ally in enemy territory.
Dessert arrived. I hadn’t touched my main course.
“I should go.”
