Rosalind sat at the kitchen table, her legs crossed primly at the ankles. She had stacks of paper sitting in front of her, presenting both her current situation and her acceptance letters to prestigious universities. She even won a few scholarships, which made her quite proud. The more evidence she had of her thorough preparation for her future the better, as far as she was concerned. She wouldn't be dismissed this time, dammit. She would be acknowledged and more, she would be victorious.
Her parents came in the kitchen, stopping short when they saw that Rosalind was already up, dressed, and looking up at them expectantly. Her mother cleared her throat and went to start the kettle for tea, only to find that there were teacups already cooling for them both. "You're up to something." Her father's voice startled Rosalind. She hadn't expected him to speak first.
She recovered quickly from her start, looking up at her parents, trying to project confidence even as her nerves started to act up. "I have a proposal for you both. Please have a seat." She motioned to the chairs across the table from her, reminding herself to be cool and calm. She had to state her case logically or else it would likely be ignored or brushed aside as fancy. She had no interest in being dismissed.
Her mother sat, her father stood. That was what Rosalind expected. She cleared her throat and laid out her papers like they were precious silks she was attempting to sell. "I have an acceptance letter from Oxford in my possession, and the scholarships required to attend for one year on campus. I will not marry, despite your admirable attempts to encourage me to do so. My dowry will, therefore, go to waste. I know that you have been setting money aside, hoping to draw a good match with that once my feminine wiles proved to be more or less absent. I would ask that you use that money now to fund my real future." Though she tried to be calm and more or less succeeded, the last sentence came tumbling out hastily. She grateful it was understandable at all.
Both her parents stared at her as she spoke, but she felt she'd made her case well enough. She'd practiced this speech in the mirror a dozen times. She had a few counter arguments prepared, but she hoped she wouldn't need them. She kept her hands on the table, a sign that she was confident and not worried about their reaction or the future. It was a lie, but but that made it all the more necessary.
Her mother's shoulders fell and she looked grim. Rosalind's attention turned entirely toward her father. He was looking at her like she was alien to him. Some strange thing that crawled out of the drainpipe which he wished to be rid of. She was unperturbed by this. He often looked at her like that these days. He had no use for a smart woman. It was unfortunate that many men were like him. He took a deep breath, then sat as well. "What's your plan?"
Rosalind blinked, then switched to a paper where she'd written out a five year plan. "My intention is to go through my undergraduate program as quickly as possible to make the best use of the funds. I'll be sitting for tests all year, including the summer. If all goes well I'll be graduating in three years and applying for masters programs. It is my intention to live on campus so I may devote myself to my studies and be as small a burden to you as possible. The small amount of money I make tutoring is enough to feed and clothe me. Once I am well established I may be able to tutor my classmates for a larger fee."
Her father nodded, taking the paper with her plan and looking it over. "You've put a lot of thought into this. Is this truly what you want? A man's world is a dangerous place and most women would not be able to compete in that sphere."
Rosalind pressed her lips together, then tilted her head up and spoke again. "If I am to fail, father, then I shall fail on my own terms. I would make a poor housewife, but I may make a good physicist." She tried to keep her composure, but she was so anxious she thought she might throw up. Her parents' support meant something to her, despite her best efforts to the contrary. It especially galled her that despite her clear picture of forethought and composure her father thought of her first as a woman and then (perhaps) as a capable adult.
Her father looked over the paper again, then up at Rosalind. "If you have the funds to last your first year, then you should pursue that. It's a good place to meet a husband who is on your intellectual level. I think that you'll understand your place in the world after that year." He handed the paper back and turned his eyes to his cup of tea which had cooled sufficiently to be consumed.
She knew how he intended the comment. He assumed she would be begging for a man to marry her before the first round of testing. She nodded, keeping herself steady, though she wanted to jump for joy. "If my place is at university?" She asked, unable to keep the nervous tension from her voice.
Her father inclined his head but did not look up at her. "Then you would indeed make a poor housewife and your education would be a better use of your dowry." He shrugged one shoulder and took another drink of his tea.
Rosalind stood quickly, rushing around the table to hug her father. The motion surprised everyone in the room, including her. She even went so far as to kiss his cheek, laughing joyfully. She felt that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She would show them the sincerity of her devotion to science. They would understand what she would give and do to respected in her field. She would outman every male she met if that was the requirement.
Her father accepted her hugging for a moment, then gently eased her off his shoulders. "Let me have my tea in peace, woman. I have arrangements to make when this meal is over."
Rosalind nodded and backed away, smiling so wide her face hurt from the effort. "Of course. Please enjoy your breakfast. I have correspondence I'd like to post as soon as possible." She collected her papers and dashed off.
Robert finished packing his bags, glancing around his room one last time. He'd inhabited this room for all of his life, at least the entire portion of it that he could remember. It looked so empty without his effects in it. The furniture was still present, waiting for him to get his own home to store it in. His bed would house one of his own children if he managed to have them. That felt right, like it was completing some kind of important cycle.
He felt oddly choked up about leaving the place. He'd be back over the summers, it wasn't like he was leaving forever. He just wouldn't be the same when he came back. In a way the old him was dying, and a new one being born in that boy's place. He hoped that man would be better, that he would learn from all the childish errors and go on to do worthy things, things that would justify his ideas of himself as a smart, productive individual.
His father came into the room and Robert straightened, his hands clutched nervously at his side. His mother inspired feelings of love and guilt, but his father inspired wariness. He never knew what he was getting with the old man. Mr. Lutece could be the best of men and he could be the worst of devils. He felt the muscles in his shoulders bunching, prepared to fight his way out if he needed to. It was irrational, really. He'd never hit his father. It got worse with even the slightest sign of defiance and one broken arm was enough for a lifetime.
"You've grown up, son." The older man's voice was steady and he enunciated with careful clarity. Robert let out the breath he'd been holding, nodding in response to the observation. When things were bad they were usually bad right from the start. He hoped that once he was gone his father might stop drinking as much. Perhaps they'd all work through their issues when they were equals.
"Thank you, father. I hope I will make you and mother proud with my accomplishments." It was the truth, though that was a secondary concern to appeasing his own desire for knowledge. He still remembered his dream and those reflections stretching to infinity. Having another version of himself to speak to would be most helpful. He was smarter than many of his peers and wished to converse with someone who had the same focus as himself.
His father nodded, looking around the room. They didn't talk much. Between the older man's career, Robert's schooling, and Mr. Lutece's penchant for drink they were nearly always seeing each other only in passing. Robert hoped that when he had children he would be more present in their lives. He wanted them to know the love of both their parents, and never fear that he would raise a hand to them. He didn't care how spoiled they became.
The awkward moment seemed to last an eternity. The old man cleared his throat and straightened his lapels. "I think you will. You- you remind me of her, in a way. It was her mind that attracted me first, you know." Robert couldn't help but stare as his father smiled. It was rare that Mr. Lutece did so. Robert assumed he was unhappy, but could not fathom why. "I'm pleased you took after her." His father nodded at the end, then turned toward the door. "Hurry up, we want to take a photograph before you go and the photographer will be arriving soon."
Robert smiled as well, nodding at his father. "Yes, of course. I'll be out shortly. Just my last notes to pack." He motioned to his open valise and the papers on his desk. He intended to do some drawing on the train and wanted his materials handy, and of course his notes if drawing became tiresome.
The older man nodded again and left, somewhat more in a rush than Robert expected. Perhaps he'd gotten his intelligence from his mother, but he was beginning to suspect he got his social skills from his father. He wondered how he would treat an intelligent wife, if he was lucky enough to get one. He thought he'd do a better job of keeping her happy than his father had. He didn't see how he could avoid it, really.
He looked around one last time at his room then nodded to himself. He had endless opportunities in front of him. He would make the most of them or perish in the attempt. He would learn from his mistakes and the mistakes of others. He would be better than the sum of his parts. He had to be.