Asking for the Moon

“I spent the past several months speaking to more than 30 millennials from around the United States about their finances. Their anxieties were palpable, and painfully familiar — many of them felt behind, indebted, unable to live up to the expectations placed upon them. Even those who were doing well were vigilant.”

Andi Rambeaux, 26, Cashier

My parents had the college talk when I was 11 and my brother was 15. They said there was only money for one of us. They chose my brother. I never knew why, and I don’t want to.

I watched him do all these rebellious things while getting his degree in studio art. I was hustling all through high school while he would come home drunk or high or both. I’d get off my shift at the drive-through and he’d text me for a ride home.

I needed a scholarship to go to school. My grades weren’t great. I didn’t have time to study or volunteer or be some varsity captain. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I became addicted to thriving. I felt like if I didn’t go to school, didn’t get that experience, I wouldn’t thrive.

When I graduated, life kept at the same trajectory. Job, parents, home. Job, parents, home. It’s still like that today. I guess the difference is I can save a little money from the drive-through. I want to start substitute teaching, but I want to wait until I don’t know anyone’s siblings still in school. That might take another year or two.

I don’t talk with my brother. He’s in Brooklyn or Flatbush or some artsy place like that. He doesn’t come home for the holidays. He just sits in New York, taking photos.

I’ve seen his work. It’s fine. Lots of nude women, or semi-nude women. He has fashion clients, I think. Some of the models look like me. I stare at the screen, feeling my face and looking at the model’s nose, cheekbones, brows. I wonder if my brother sees it. But I look at the rest of their bodies and we aren’t alike. That’s fine. Things are probably better that way.