Either/Or

by Elif Batuman

“Well, they’re supposed to be ‘off the beaten path,’ ” I said. “There’s a reason why nobody beat a path there,” replied my mother.

You didn’t have to explain anything, or account for anything, or manifest love. If anyone got annoyed at you, they couldn’t cry, or scream at you, or accuse you of offending them, and at any point you could just leave. It was totally different from being in your family.

“You can talk to me. You have to talk to me. Look into my eyes. Look into my eyes, Selin. Am I a half-wit?” Without meaning to, I looked into his eyes. What I saw—it was above my pay grade. I went out to get a taxi.

Was this the decisive moment of my life? It felt as if the gap that had dogged me all my days was knitting together before my eyes—so that, from this point on, my life would be as coherent and meaningful as my favorite books. At the same time, I had a powerful sense of having escaped something: of having finally stepped outside the script.