Cynthia Nixon (8:56)
An early departure. It wasn't the best time for me to be out of the office, but my niece asked, so of course I went. The train rides to New York took four hours for quite a few years. When my niece was little, we used to meet up there, all of us, on a Saturday in autumn. My sister and her two children, my mother and me, arriving from different places by train and having a hectic stand up lunch at Penn Station before checking into our hotel. We'd go to a show, eat at John's Pizza afterward, then walk through Times Square with us grownups flanking the kids, though looking back, I wonder how much protection we could have provided if anyone really wanted to get at them. We were only three women with not much weight amongst us. Still, we would have had the advantage of our investment in the children's safety, which counts for a lot. My sister and I look alike and my niece looks like both of us, and I knew that anyone seeing me hold Tania's hand back then as we strolled down the street might easily take me for her mother. I savored this more than I should have, but I figured it didn't hurt anybody. Nobody else had to know. Before bedtime on those Saturday nights we hung out together in one of the hotel rooms, just catching up and watching the kids goof around. One year my sister booked a hotel with a rooftop pool, and how much fun was that, watching my niece and nephew laugh and splash under the stars? Another year we arranged the trip around my 40th birthday and they sang to me over a red velvet cake from Magnolia Bakery. I got the impression that they all made a special effort to give me a nice time, knowing how I might feel turning 40 with no children of my own. Nobody said this out loud, but they were right that I felt a certain way, and the celebration helped in the moment, even though it made me sadder when I was alone on the train back to Boston the next day. Back then I liked to read quotes from successful women about not having children, like Jennifer Aniston, who said, you may not have a child come out of your vagina, but that doesn't mean you're not mothering. I'm mothering, I told myself whenever I spent time with my sister's kids, so they didn't come out of my vagina. Is that such a big deal? On Sunday mornings of those weekends we ate brunch together before we all headed back to Penn Station for our rides home on three different tracks. They were short visits, sometimes not even a whole 24 hours. But they were the most alive and comforting times I can remember, the kids so captivated by the novelties they saw around them, pretzels the size of their faces, horse buggies in Central park, and so eager to join the scene. The year my nephew Henry was nine, I bought him a stuffed frog from a street vendor and Henry promptly named the frog Hoppy, placed it on his head, and proceeded to walk around that way the entire day. My mother was healthy enough to walk long distances with us, from the park all the way down Fifth Avenue to where we always stayed, near Rockefeller Center. Tanya works there now, apprenticing to writers for a comedy sketch show. It's her dream job straight out of college, the one she told us she wanted when she was 11 and we all took the NBC backstage tour. The others of us smiled and said of course she would get a job like that, though none of us really believed it, but we should never have doubted her. Once, when she was three, we went to a minor league baseball game and our seats were across the stadium and from a pop up carnival. Tania caught sight of the Ferris wheel, pointed to let us know she was headed there, and took off. My sister and I followed the whole way, keeping her safe without her knowing, and we were amused, but more than a little unsettled when the baby never looked back. Tanya asked me to come see her in the city and followed this up with a second request, which was not to tell her mother. This was tricky because she wouldn't say why, but I convinced myself it had something to do with wanting to surprise her mother somehow. My sister's birthday wasn't for another six months and it wasn't a big one, but in this way I allowed myself to honor Tanya's request and to book my train tickets without mentioning it to my sister in our every other day text exchange. Why Tanya herself didn't just tell me whatever she needed to in a text or email I couldn't guess, though it would become clear all too soon why she wanted to see me in person. My niece apologized for not being able to put me up, but of course I understood. This was New York. She shared a two bedroom walk up with two friends from college. One of them paid a little less and slept in the dining alcove. I remembered such arrangements from being young myself, though in Boston, not New York. When I got older I would never have wanted to live in the same circumstances, but at the time it was fun. Besides, I could afford a nice hotel room. I checked in early and then met Tanya at one of the subterranean restaurants at 30 Rock. It was January, and from our table we watched the skaters on the rink outside. I hadn't seen her in half a year, since we'd all gotten together in the place my mother lived to celebrate her big birthday day. But I was glad to see that my niece hadn't changed much since then. One of my favorite things about her had always been her sweetness, and I admit that when she first told me she was moving there, I was afraid the city might turn her head. How's Grandma? She asked. I wish she could still make the trip down here, but she seems to be doing better than a lot of people her age. I agreed and kept myself from reminding her that she could always inquire of Grandma herself how Grandma was doing. I didn't want to start off on a rocky foot. I'd speculated a lot, of course, about why Tanya had asked me to make the trip down. Did she need money? And hesitated to ask her parents. Had something happened she didn't want them to know about? Was she pregnant and sought my advice? I can't deny it made me feel special to have been summoned. My niece said she needed me, so I dropped everything and went. It's about Henry, she said after the server had left the table. I knew she'd ordered the least expensive item on the menu because she expected me to insist on paying, which I would. He's in trouble. What kind? In the moment before concern hit, I felt surprise. Her brother, a senior in college, had always been a quiet kid, not afraid to go his own way but not interested in ruffling any feathers either. At least that's how it always seemed to me. It was hard to tell because of the quietness. He spent a lot of time on his computer, to the extent that I knew my sister sometimes worried about his eyes. But he seemed to enjoy our family visits, never hiding in his room or otherwise retreating when we were all together. I couldn't imagine what sort of trouble my niece might be talking about. He'd gotten himself involved in a hacking scheme, Tanya told me. There were plenty of kids at his school who knew how proficient he was at finding his way around various systems, and plenty who needed their grades boosted and would pay to have it done. Slowly I repeated Tanya's words aloud. Gotten himself involved? You make it sound as if he couldn't help it, as if he had no choice. I noticed that my hand was trembling as I reached for my water glass. Tanya saw it, too, and I wouldn't call that getting in trouble. I'D call it committing a crime. She sucked her breath in, barely audibly, and sat back in her chair. I didn't expect you to be so harsh, she said. This is Henry we're talking about. I know. It chilled me to see the look of distrust in her eyes. You think I'm not upset? And then, through the sense channel that connects women in a family, our mutual mind's eye, I could see we were both remembering the day her brother walked around New York with his favorite new stuffy balanced on top of his head. Oh, Hoppy. I put my hand to my throat. She leaned closer and I could see she was wearing the butterfly necklace I'd given her on her 16th birthday. My immediate response was to be flattered, but this was followed by a flash of insight I wish I could ignore. She'd worn the necklace to butter me up. It's not like it was a crime, she said. Somehow I managed not to exclaim. How delusional was she, how willing to ignore what she knew, never mind common sense, to believe what she wished to be true. Yaya, I said, then waited for her to look directly at me. Hacking into someone else's database and changing the data is absolutely a crime. No, I know, she said, not bothering to hide her irritation. But it didn't start out like that. She went on to recount the story of a crush her brother had on a girl who seemed to like him back, but it turned out she only made nice so he'd change her civics grade. I could tell how hurt Tanya had been to hear this on her brother's behalf, and I remembered the kick it had always given me to hear her use old timey phrases like made nice. So she dumped him. Afterward, I asked what made her think he wouldn't just go into the system again and change it back. Because she said she knew him enough to tell what kind of guy he is. So where does it stand? Did someone expose him? Is there an investigation? Tanya nodded. The college's disciplinary board. He's afraid he's going to be expelled. And after that the dean said they might involve the police. He hasn't told your parents? No, and he doesn't want them to find out. The server came and put our lunches in front of us. Neither of us reached for a fork. Why are you telling me, then? I asked, though of course I already knew. It chilled me again to see how much in that moment she hated me for making her come out and say it. We thought because of your job you might be able to. But she couldn't finish. Instead, she dropped her face toward her chest and began to sob. I'm sorry, Aunt Kim. I should never have asked you. I know it's shitty. I know it's wrong, and trust me, Henry does too. But he begged me. He didn't think you would do it if he asked. But he knows you're like a second mother to me. Ah, those words. A second mother. They're meant to be a compliment, one of the highest. But the person they are addressed to, the person so named, understands all too well how far the second mother falls short of the first. My sister had often referred to me as a second mother in relation to her own children, especially Tanya. I knew she meant well and wanted to make me feel good, and I would have felt touched by my niece using the phrase now, except that I realized she was doing so in an effort to get what she and her brother wanted. So she had become a little hard after all. I knew she would not have relished this task of trying to secure my help, but she had her priorities in order, and her brother came first. I had to admire it. In a way, she was still the girl who set out for her destination with no intention of letting anyone stop her along the way. I'm sorry, Yaya, I told her, and there was a considerable part of me that was sorry. The part that should have done what any mother would do. But I really can't intervene. Not that I think I actually could help, even if I did. Yes, you could. They'd listen to you. She was pleading. I saw that her eyes were dry and concluded with a tumbling crash inside me that her sobbing had been fake. Knowing I had to find a way to steel myself, I pretended I was speaking to a potential client I'd never met before instead of my beloved niece. I told her that matters like these had nothing to do with the ones I dealt with in my job. Even if the college did contact the police and press charges, my reach, my jurisdiction in a different kind of agency and a different state wouldn't come close. But it wasn't only that it wouldn't work or that I might get exposed. I told her it would be the wrong thing to do, that I had to say. This made me feel like crying myself, and the truth was that I said it even before I'd finished, mentally running through the sequence of people I might conceivably call to make life easier on my nephew. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, I said, but even if I did try to help, it wouldn't be the best thing for Henry. Why not? He's learned his lesson. He'll never do anything like this again. But he did it this time, and it wasn't a momentary lapse of judgment. That kind of thing has to be thought out. It has to be planned. It's better for him to face the consequences in the long run. Trust me. She had zero intention of trusting me. This I could tell from her face. So you're not even going to try? Her eyes pricked like points of glass. Oh, honey. In that moment I understood that the most rewarding and significant aspect of my existence, the role that had sustained me and buoyed me for more than 20 years in an otherwise lonely life, had just come to an end. I can't. Before I arrived, I'd hoped she'd bring me back to her office and show me around. She'd mentioned something on the phone when we made arrangements to this effect, but it became clear after I paid the check, after we took the escalator back up to the lobby that she intended for us to part ways. I hugged her. I hugged her, not wanting to let go, even though I knew she'd already slipped away from me to a place I'd not be allowed to enter, even if I did ever manage to find it again. I'd booked the hotel room for that night, expecting that Tanya would let me treat her and her friends to a dinner they wouldn't have been able to afford on their own. I confess I had fantasies about how proud she'd feel of her cool and generous aunt and the way the girls would hug and thank me when we stepped out of the restaurant. But now I didn't need the room, on top of which I wanted only to get away from the city. I canceled at the hotel even though it was too late to get a refund, then wheeled my bag to Penn Station, where I changed my return ticket, which cost me a fee, but it was worth it. Amtrak would not be able to hurtle me home fast enough. Home? Well, no. But back to where I belonged. On the ride to Boston, I sat on the side that gave a view of the water when there was water to see. In New London, a young mother got on with a boy who was about two years old and miserable, crying not for any particular reason but for the sake of crying. It's easy to tell the difference if you've spent any time around kids. I helped her collapse his stroller and offered him the bag of crackers I'd bought at the station but not yet opened the mother fell all over herself, thanking me, and the crackers distracted him for a while, but when the bag was empty, he threw it on the floor and started crying again. I couldn't change my seat, not only because the train was full but because the mother would know why I moved, and I didn't want to make her feel bad. I pulled out a folder and tried to look at some work, but it was futile. Partly this was because of the boy's whining, but mainly it had to do with how sick I felt about the scene I just had with my niece. At one point I sighed and let my glance fall across the aisle. The mother seemed to take this as an invitation. She leaned over and whispered, it gets easier, right? In a tone that attempted lightness but couldn't conceal the desperation it contained. I understood instantly what she assumed about me and perceived the familiar, shameful thrill of passing. You'll be amazed, I said, and something about the way I pronounce the word must have intrigued the boy or tickled him, the buzzy Z sound, because he paused in his crying to look up at me and smile. I smiled back. The mother jumped on it, grabbing first one toy and then another out of the diaper bag at her feet, and these distractions finally took hold. Her son became immersed in a handheld pinball game and stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. I felt a wave of pride I knew to be ridiculous, but it blunted the despair I'd boarded with. Only later, pulling into my station after they'd gotten off a few steps before, did the truth set in. Clutching my work bag tighter than necessary as I stepped onto the platform, I realized that of course I hadn't fooled the boy as I had his mother. Didn't I understand children better than that? He'd smiled at me, not because I'd charmed him, but to let me know he recognized a liar when he saw one. Jennifer Aniston could pretend all she wanted, but this kid wasn't about to let me get away with offering a promise that wasn't mine to make.