The Smash-Up by Ali Benjamin

Author:Ali Benjamin [Benjamin, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2021-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

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Dinner is served in the Sharing Room, which is what Rainbow Seed calls the cafeteria, although judging by the notes that are sent home on a weekly basis (reminder: due to peanut allergies/dairy allergies/nightshade allergies/wheat allergies/gluten intolerance/lactose intolerance/veganism/soy avoidance/over-processing of our food supply, there is to be no exchange of food items at lunch or snack!) no sharing takes place in this space whatsoever.

Zo’s at the serving table; someone’s assigned her to the vegan and gluten-free option, which, it turns out, is more of a lasagna soup. By the time Ethan gets in line, Zo’s given up on the spatula altogether and is doling out servings with a spoon.

Ahead of Zo, Shreya slides a perfect square of turkey lasagna onto a parent’s plate. She smiles broadly. “Free-range!”

Standing there in the food line, it occurs to Ethan: he should network. These are successful parents, with good incomes. Maybe one of them knows of a job for him—something permanent and well paying. If Ethan can land a real job, something with a decent salary, maybe the Bränd situation won’t seem quite so dire. If Randy were here, he wouldn’t hesitate to glad-hand these people, to make connections. In fact, the guy would probably manage to land a CEO position before dessert was served.

Ethan sizes up the parents in line ahead of him. At the front of the queue, there’s a dad in biking gear. Made a mint in biotech, this guy—some diabetes therapy, or maybe it was cancer. Anyway, he’s retired now. Behind him stands a gorgeous, leggy mom in black, an early investor in Bluetooth technology, also now enjoying early retirement. Behind her, a lesbian couple (one in Carhartt’s: an organic farmer. The other, in a caftan: last name Marcus, apparently of Neiman fame). There’s a venture capitalist who claims to be “mostly a dabbler these days.” A former punk-rocker with two Grammys to his name. A couple with the last name of Dillard (because there’s money in middle-end department stores, too). A mom with the last name Halliburton (nobody talks about it).

What could Ethan possibly offer any of them, job-wise? Even if he managed to work into a conversation that he once started a successful media company, he already knows what their next question would be: Oh, when was that?

Decades ago, that’s when. In a different century. Literally. These days, he’s just some Subaru-driving schmo from the wrong side of the tracks.

He longs to text Maddy, just to give himself a boost, a break from this place, but he’s struggling to balance his food plate and rolled-up silverware and cup of watery lemonade, and anyway, here’s Shreya now, holding out a spatula with a square of lasagna and wearing the world’s most magnanimous smile. “What the cluck!” Shreya says. When Ethan doesn’t understand, she clarifies, her facial muscles frozen in place. “The turkey is from What the Cluck Organic Farm.”

Ethan has to admit, it looks delicious.

Shreya slides it onto his plate, “Enjoy!” she chirps. Ethan feels

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