Cups

Ana silently thanked Ms. Jones for pairing her with Lisa. She needed a bridge into the social circle of this new school, and her hopes grew when Lisa invited her over to study. But with each echoing step under the vaulted ceilings, Ana felt that bridge breaking.

Down an arched hallway and into a kitchen more immaculate than her Abuelo’s church, this was a mansion no matter what Lisa said. The sun poured in through the many windows, creating lattice shadows on the empty marble countertops. The kitchen’s stainless steel and brass-plating shone silver and gold. Ana realized a world of things separated her and Lisa.

In her old neighborhood, the kitchen was the hardest working room. It was messy and tight. Countertops were covered with seasoning jars, bowls, mixers, plantains, and the occasional whole coconut. She struggled to find space to make one sandwich. But in this vast space, Ana could prepare a chicken and rice feast for her whole apartment building.

Lisa linked arms with Ana and led her over to a solid wooden table. She kicked off her shoes and dumped out her backpack, then sorted through the mess she’d created until she found Ms. Jones’ assignment.

"My greatest ambition is to…." Lisa paused and looked to Ana.

"Um, I don't know. Probably to be a doctor or a lawyer."

Those were the careers at the top of Abuelo’s long list of American dreams. The beauty of America, he reminded both family and strangers, is that you can be anything you want.

Lisa wrinkled her nose as though Ana’s very words had carried a foul order. "Don’t go with that. That’s so…boring.

“Maybe food will inspire you. I’ll get us snacks. Cups are over there and then get whatever you want out of the fridge”.

Opening the cupboard, Ana found a beautiful collection of cups, glasses, and mugs. They stood in a neat matrix and created a kaleidoscope of color and ornament. Some tall and delicate, others short and sturdy, but together a display of art. Ana reached out a hand to trace the blue swirls on one piece and felt its weight and expense.

Then Ana remembered the hodge-podge of flimsy cups, foggy glasses, and mismatched mugs in their apartment kitchen. Stacked one upon the other, they crowded the shallow shelves. Their only unifying theme was that each item had been free. Salvaged, found, or gifted – like most things in their apartment.

“Girl, c’mon. Let’s go. ‘My greatest ambition is to’ - what?” Lisa had arranged a spread of junk food and snack bags. Contraband food that Ana’s mother never bought. Lisa slid a bag of popcorn across the table. A memory pulled at Ana, and she pushed it and the popcorn aside.

Lisa held up her paper for Ana’s inspection. She had written the name Oscar Wild, double-underlined, and dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“Don’t you mean Marcus Aurelius?” Ana asked. “That’s who Ms. Jones said. Remember? The whole ‘a person’s worth is no greater than their ambition’ thing.”

“No, I mean Oscar Wild. I saw it in a video, and Oscar Wild said that real freedom is being nothing.” Ana knew her face betrayed her thoughts because Lisa smiled gently as if Ana were a slow learner before explaining.

“Like if you know what you want to be, then you’ll actually become it. Which is a punishment for being boring. Like my parents. Ugh.

“So my greatest ambition is to be nothing!” She finished with a grand wave and winked at Ana, pleased with her cleverness.

Ana stared at Lisa surrounded by forbidden food, drinking from a cup of art, and her great answer was to be nothing?

“Wow – that is different. Hey, I forgot I got this thing tonight. I gotta call my mom to pick me up. I’ll just finish mine at home.”

***

Ana pasted on a sunny smile for her mother. A happy offense prevented her mom from prying, and Ana had questions of her own. Conversations were easier in the car with her mom’s too-powerful gaze aimed ahead.

“Mom, why did you move us here? I mean, of all the neighborhoods, why this one so far from Abuelo?”

Her mother’s head twitched towards Ana but the merging car in front of them pulled her focus back.

“Because I want something more for you, sweetie. Something more than what I had growing up. And this move, this school, is a big step in that direction.”

“Well, Lisa’s house is better than anything in Abuelo’s neighborhood. They have their own stairs, and the kitchen is bigger than our apartment.” There was no point in denying it. Ana had seen how much ‘more’ there could be.

Her mother continued staring straight ahead but her mouth twitched before she answered. “I imagine. That house did look like the American dream, that dream to have everything.

“But remember, Ana – happiness comes from wanting what you have. Not having what you want.”

Ana bit back the questions that leapt to her own lips. Why didn’t you want what you had in the old neighborhood, Mom? When did you decide I needed something more?

Back in the apartment complex, Ana followed her mom up the stairs, past a half-dozen units, to their own small rental. She went to her mother’s room where they kept the laptop.

Ana flipped it open and typed in the name Oscar Wild. “Let’s see what this troublemaker is about. Oops, so it’s Wilde with an ‘e’. I gotta tell Lisa. But is this what she meant?

“If you want to be a grocer, or a general, or a politician, or a judge, you will invariably become it; that is your punishment.

“If you never know what you want to be…

“if each day you are unsure of who you are and what you know

“you will never become anything, and that is your reward.”

Ana leaned back as the warring thoughts rushed in. She didn’t know who she was, who she wanted to be. And her grades proved she didn’t know much. She pictured her family’s reaction -- the severe frown on Abuelo’s wrinkled face and her mother waving the words away as rich people talk.

Abuelo’s anything. Mom’s something. Lisa’s nothing.

“But is Mom wrong? Aurelius was an emperor, Wilde was wealthy. What would a Roman soldier have thought about his worth and ambition? What would Wilde’s servants have said?”

Ana dropped her face in her hands and wished for math homework instead. Unemotional, indifferent numbers would be a respite from this exhausting mental merry-go-round she was on thanks to Ms. Jones, Marcus Aurelius, and Oscar Wilde.

Her stomach churned, reminding Ana of the bounty at Lisa’s. Nothing like that here in their teeny apartment. But she did have her favorite mug. Blue with golden interlocking hearts and swirls. Each night her mom hand-washed the mug. She never used it and settled for one of the baseball cups Ana avoided.

Abuelo had splurged on that baseball game. The tickets included a hot dog, popcorn, and a logo souvenir cup. Ana quickly ate the hot dog, hidden under ketchup and mustard, but rationed the buttery popcorn to last all 9 innings. Even now, years later, when Ana ate popcorn she heard the crack of the bat and Abuelo yelling “Dale!”

She didn’t remember if their team won but did remember waiting for the crowds to thin. Her mother had walked down the aisles picking up souvenir cups discarded by other families. Kicked over or half-hidden under the seats, some still with liquids in them. Ana yelled at her mom to stop, that she was embarrassing her, and swore to never use those cups again.

Ana rubbed her temples and then continued scrolling. Oscar Wilde’s life and learnings glided past until she lifted her hand, leaned forward, and stared hard at the screen.

“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.”

She looked down at this assignment on ambition and worth. “Damnit, maybe wealthy Mr. Wilde knows a thing or two after all.”

She wrote: My greatest ambition is to be proud of my cup collection.

“Yeah, that’s gonna get me an F.” Ana tore the paper out of her notebook, crumpled it, and threw it in the trash.

“I need a good grade.” She pulled out a clean piece of paper and sighed. A weariness edged through her body even as the stomach pains sharpened.

She wrote: My greatest ambition is to be a doctor.