A Tablet For Adulthood

When she was younger, the sight of a pile of presents would fill Esme with joy. Now, at only nineteen, it filled her with dread.

“I didn’t ask for anything though,” she said with a fake laugh to her parents, praying that they wouldn’t see through it. “What’s all this?”

“Well you can’t not have presents on your birthday,” her mother replied.

“But what are they-”

“There’s no point in us telling you is there? Go on, open them up.”

The first one was a box of chocolates, which gave her hope for the rest of them. That hope was shattered when she got to the next one and found a box of make-up. It looked expensive stuff, but she never wore make-up. It would just get added to the pile that she had in her bathroom, which she’d looked at once a month, as she wished she knew what to do with it.

That was followed by some bath products; a nice gesture, but student accommodation didn’t tend to have baths. Maybe she’d get a chance to use it before she left her parents’ home. A few more little gifts of trinkets- fairly useless, but at least they didn’t take up much space- and then all that was left was a single large box.

The dread returned.

“This one’s from your Uncle Matthew,” her mother explained. And was that a hint of smugness that it was her brother that had brought the largest present? “Go on, open it. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

The way her mother was grinning told her that this was a ‘significant’, and therefore expensive, present. She barely knew Uncle Matthew, and he certainly didn’t know her. How on earth would he know what she needed? Unless this was a box full of money (which was basically all that she had asked for), there was no way this was going to be relevant to her.

Asking for money had felt cheap, but she really did need it. She needed a new laptop for university work. Okay, so maybe she didn’t need a new one, not entirely. The one she currently had worked, but only just. The battery life was going and it took about ten minutes to boot up. She could claw by on it, if she had to.

What she wanted, more than anything else, was a 2-in-1 convertible laptop, one with a detachable tablet screen. Practically everyone in her debating group had them, and when they paced about, reading their notes off a tablet held in one hand as they practised, they looked so professional and… well, grown-up. Esme still felt out of place in the debating society, like a kid trying to pass as an adult, and she felt sure that if she had a tablet to read off she’d do so much better. Then she’d feel as if she belonged.

Mimicking a smile from her childhood birthdays Esme started tearing back the edges of the wrapping paper. She pretended that it was part of the fun, but in truth she was terrified of what it would be.

The top of the paper came away, revealing a boxed laptop.

Even as her mother was clapping and squeeing Esme was mentally swearing.

“How did he know?” she asked, through barely gritted teeth. Who ratted me out? She’d specifically not told anyone what the money was for, not even her parents. She knew they’d do something like this.

“It is what you wanted isn’t it?” her mother cooed. “I remember you telling me, last time you were writing an essay, about how your laptop was so slow. I figured that had to be what the money was for.”

Only because I’m too poor to even consider any other kind of luxury, Esme thought bitterly. She’d never had the heart to admit to her parents how tight money was at uni; she’d told them that the job was just for the experience, not the rent.

“It is, it is,” Esme said. Her mother wasn’t watching her any more, and if Esme’s mask of happiness faltered then the room was oblivious.

Of course she was glad for the new laptop, and there was no way she’d turn it down. But now she couldn’t get the one she’d fallen in love with, and she wouldn’t have her tablet for debating club. Her chance at feeling grown-up was gone, and now she’d have to rely on her old scrappy notebook again.

“Hi Matthew!” Oh god, her mother was already on the phone to her brother so she could keep gloating. “Yes, she’s just opened it. Here, talk to her.”

The phone was thrust at Esme before she could argue.

“Hello Uncle Matthew! Yes it’s beautiful, that you so much.”

With each word her heart broke a little more, as the image of the second hand convertible laptop that she’d found faded from her mind.

Two weeks later was the first debating session after her birthday, and Esme struggled to gather the will to go. As much as she loved going, she still hadn’t recovered from the disappointment of her birthday. With a brand new laptop there was no way she could justify buying a tablet as well, and she didn’t have the heart to tell her uncle that it wasn’t the laptop that she’d wanted. Besides, how could she turn down a brand new laptop when all she could afford, at a push, was a second-hand one?

“So are you coming?” Nikita asked. Her and Esme were studying in the library, planning out the rest of their day instead of actually revising. The topic of the debating society meet-up had just come up.

“I’m not sure.” Esme hadn’t told anyone about her disappointing birthday, which hadn’t helped with getting over it. Every time she told someone that she’d gotten a laptop from her family they’d go on about how lucky she was, which only added to her guilt over not wanting the laptop. Or rather, not wanting that laptop.

“Ah, come on. It’ll be fun, and it’s been a while since the last meeting. It makes a break from all the revising.”

“Urg, fine. If it’ll shut you up!” Esme laughed, which earnt her a round of disapproving tuts from the library staff.

That evening at the session Esme sat at the back. Coming had been a bad idea in the end; everyone else looked even more grown up and ‘with it’ today, and with each perfect sentence or argument they said she felt more clumsy.

The society president, an elegant third year called Alexandra Carnot, was finishing up an argument in favour of human cloning, wrapping all her points up with practised finesse, and Esme was eyeing up the door. She felt like a troglodyte now, and the longer she stayed the more likely it was that she’d be called up to have a go.

Before she could slip out though Alexandra had dropped down into the seat beside her.

“Hey,” Alexandra whispered.

“Hey.” Esme would swear that her hair was getting more matted even as she sat there.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you have a go. Do you want to go next?”

“No. I’m fine. I was gonna head off actually. I have… an essay to finish off.”

Alexandra squinted, obviously not buying it for a second. “You do want a go though, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep turning up.”

Down at the front of the lecture room the next speaker had launched into their own impassioned speech about clones, complete with tablet in their hand.

“I don’t think I’m good enough,” Esme admitted. “Probably best to leave it to you lot.” To the grown-ups, she thought loudly.

“Nonsense. How do you think any of us got any good? By making fools of ourselves in front of the older years. That’s why university’s the best place to start debating. Each year another lot of people who’ve seen you make a mistake leave, and you can look sophisticated in front of all the freshers.”

“I don’t want to just hold all my notes,” Esme said. She kept her eyes focused elsewhere and wondered if this was the last time she’d ever turn up. “Having all those loose bits of paper… it just looks so amateur. It makes me too self-conscious. And I keep dropping them.” It was hard not to eye up the tablet on Alexandra’s lap, and that didn’t go unnoticed.

Alexandra leant closer in, and Esme thought she was going to get kicked out there and then for being so childish. “Do you want to know a secret?” Alexandra whispered instead. In response to Esme’s frown she opened up her tablet case and tilted it round.

Inside was an ordinary notebook. The notes scrawled across it were barely legible, at least to Esme, though surely Alexandra could interrupt her own writing on the fly.

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” Alexandra whispered even softer. “And when you make you’ll work out what’s actually important.” She stood up and winked at Esme. “See you next week then. And I want to see you on stage.”

For the first time since her birthday Esme felt the weight of guilt lifting off her. Twenty pounds for a tablet cover, and a far better laptop than she’d otherwise have been able to get? Maybe her birthday wasn’t such a wash-out after all.

Next time I talk to Uncle Matthew, she thought as she settled back into her seat to continue watching the debates, I’ll have to actually thank him.