Hope and Other Luxuries Read Online Free Page A

they had forgotten about swiping a toy from her or refusing to help her tidy up after a game.
    When Valerie was in fifth grade, she became interested in chess. Its complexity impressed her, and its unbending rules appealed to her practical nature. She got to be quite good at it—she could certainly beat me. But I didn’t have much time to play, so Valerie decided to teach Elena the game.
    Chess became the source of endless conflict.
    It wasn’t that Elena couldn’t learn it. She did that pretty quickly. It was just that the chess pieces couldn’t be chess pieces to her. They had shapes and titles and social status. They lived in their own little world.
    Before long, every single chess piece had a name—including two pawns who were named Boogity Boogity and Shoo. Each piece came complete with a lengthy backstory. It had its own hopes, fears, likes, and dislikes.
    So, when Valerie and Elena sat down to play, the game went something like this: First, Valerie would move. Then Elena’s pieces would all huddle together and discuss.
    â€œDid you see that? It’s happening again! They’re creeping up on us!”
    â€œYou’re lucky! You’re big and strong. We’re half your size, and you’ve stuck us out here in front!” This was a common complaint from the pawns, who seemed to have their own union.
    â€œDon’t worry, my little ones. Nothing bad will happen to you. Butter Fat will save us.” Butter Fat was one of the knights.
    Thusly appointed, Butter Fat would sally into the fray, and Valerie would move another piece.
    â€œIt’s the queen! The evil queen! Queen Tiger Lily is coming! She’ll turn us into statues for her garden!”
    â€œElena! Would you just shut up and
move
?”
    Another couple of exchanges, and Elena would lose her knight.
    â€œAaaauuugh! The evil queen killed Butter Fat! She carried him away with her magic spells!”
    â€œYou have to protect us! We nominate you. You have to face her in single combat!”
    â€œNo, no! Don’t make me go out there! Don’t make me go out there
alooooone
!”
    And Valerie would lose her patience.
    â€œMOM!”
    In spite of the difficulties of the refereeing process, watching my girls play together was one of the greatest joys of my life. Hearing their careless voices laughing or chattering healed a part of my soul that had been damaged long before they were born.
    If I were to sum up my own childhood in one word, it would be
lonely
.
    I was the last of three children born to a busy engineer and an absentminded English professor. My parents had both been perfectly happy to call their family complete with the two boys they already had. My brothers were close to one another in age but substantially older than I was, so for most of my growing-up years, I was barely an annoying blip on their radar.
    My father commuted two hours a day in addition to his work time, and his own projects out in the garage involved activities like sawing and welding—not safe undertakings for someone watching a toddler. This threw me back on my mother’s company, and she took a novel approach to the problem. Rather than do what some mothers do—set aside her career and life goals in order to look after this last small child—my mother did exactly the opposite. She taught me how to sit quietly and amuse myself with some small toys, and then she took me with her everywhere she went.
    I went to appointments, meetings, and events. I went to faculty parties and long evenings with my mother’s friends. I went to the enormous university library, where I sat next to the copy machine and colored while she copied endless pages, and into her office, where I played carefully with a sheet of carbon paper while she typed out exams and met with students. I went to movies far beyond my understanding. I sat through
2001: A Space Odyssey
when I was three. At four, I was attending my mother’s