As she types, I think about my mother, who flitted in and out of my life depending on her grief and sobriety, and my father, who died before I even met him. My grandmother had been my rock, the one consistent presence until she died during my freshman year of college. After that, it had been easy to lose myself in Josh's world, to believe his certainty was stability.
Now, I know stability can’t come from just one person. I want to be part of systems and structures that support people. I want to help weave the safety net for the people currently falling through holes in the webbing.
"You're in luck," Susan says, pulling me from my thoughts. "We have spots in Sociology, which is a really popular course. And you'll need Statistics for Health Sciences—it's being offered this summer as well.”
Statistics. Math. My least favorite subject. But I need it, and maybe it's better to face it head-on.
"I'll take both," I say, surprising myself with my conviction.
Susan smiles. "Perfect. Second session classes start next week. Let's get you registered." She says I should be able to finish my degree in the fall semester if I can handle six classes and a service learning project. Then she recommends I join the Alliance for Students of Color, which has action plans to address racial disparities.
I have nothing to stop me. Nothing is standing in my way this time. Nobody is begging me to be by their side, to move me to a new home, or to be their emotional rock.
“Let’s do this,” I say, and sign all the forms necessary to finish something I started finally.
An hour later, I'm officially a part-time student with a new university ID and a growing sense of purpose. I wander around campus, mapping the locations of my classes, finding the library where I'll undoubtedly spend hours studying.
I exhaust myself marching up the hill and pass the athletic complex, a state-of-the-art facility with Pittsburgh University's wildcat logo emblazoned on the doors. A memory surfaces: sitting in the stands at a Michigan hockey game, watching Josh play, believing that supporting his dream was enough of a dream for me, too.
My phone buzzes with a news alert. Before I can stop myself, I open it.
FURY GOALTENDER GRENTLEY CONTINUES RECLUSIVE BEHAVIOR DESPITE TEAM PR EFFORTS
The article is brief, noting that Josh has declined all interview requests regarding the team’s playoff loss. There's a reference to our divorce—"following his split from his wife earlier this year"—but no details. Not even my name, which fits because only the athlete matters in relationships with pro hockey players. I learned that the hard way. The reporter speculates about whether Josh's "monastic approach" will benefit or harm his focus.
Most of the post-season furor had been about a love triangle involving one of the defenders and his boyfriend, but it was only a matter of time before that cooled down, and the public turned back to hating on the goalie.
I never learned the finer points of hockey, but even I know the fans are always quick to blame the goalie for a loss. That always bothered Josh.
But I don’t need to worry about his hurt feelings. Never again.
My phone buzzes again—this time, a text from Mel.
How's registration going? Did you sign up for basket weaving and nap time?
I smile, typing a response as I walk toward the bus stop.
Sociology and STATISTICS. I hate myself already.
Mel
Ouch. But also, proud of you. Celebratory takeout tonight?
I'll cook. Be home in 30.
I'm chopping vegetables for stir-fry when Mel rolls into our apartment, tossing her bag onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh.
"If I have to memorize one more Supreme Court precedent, I may actually die," she announces, wheeling into the kitchen. "Something smells amazing."
"Just the basics," I say, scraping bell peppers into a bowl. "How was your day?"
"Brutal." She pulls a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. "But I got some good news. Stag Law called—I have an interview next week."
I pause. Mel is the sort of overachiever doing two degrees at once, so she’s just now being wooed by significant firms as she finishes a master’s in policy while studying for the bar. “Stag Law? I thought we agreed to avoid Stags.”
She pours a glass of wine. “I’m not stopping communication with Stellan just because you boned his cousin.” She waggles her eyebrows. “His dad’s law firm is my dream job. They do equal pay cases and recently started working with the Paralympics.” She winces. “It’s a long shot, but even getting the interview is huge.”
"That's amazing, Mel!" I accept the glass she offers. "You'll crush it." I find myself envious of her certainty in her path. I love what she’s studying and the work she aims to do.
