“I don’t like this any more than you do.” It was true. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d had this same conversation with Coach Jameson when I was on the team. If anything, it makes me feel like a massive hypocrite as I attempt to lay down the law. “But the rules are the rules.” Jesus I’m bad at this. Given the expression on Jake’s face he feels the same.
“We’re going up against UCONN and Bolton soon. All the scouts are going to be there man, Ineedto be on that ice…It’s not even my fault I have a D in that class. The TA took off all these points on my assignment for no reason, and when I tried to ask her about it, she just blew me off.”
Ah, the ‘blaming the teaching assistant’ defense. I’d pulled that one out of my back pocket before too, one too many times…“C’mon Jake, be real with me here and I’ll do what I can to help get you out of this?—”
“I’m being dead serious! I’m not saying I would’ve gotten an A+ or anything, but I definitely should’ve gotten a C or something. I went into office hours to check what I got wrong, and I noticed I got marked off for answers I shouldn’t have. When I asked the TA if she could fix my grade, she just said that all grades were final. I even asked if I could do some extra credit, but she shut that down too. I’m really trying, she’s just unreasonable.”
A feeling of guilt filled my chest as I took in the sincerity and defeat on Jake’s face.
“How about I talk to her? Maybe she’d be more understanding of your situation if it came from your coach.”
“You’d honestly be saving my ass. Maybe you can drop by her office hours?”
This is what coaches did right? Advocate for their players and make sure no one is left behind. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
The sound of the whistle reverberated against the walls, drawing players back into practice. “Why don’t you get your ass on the ice and show me— what did you say earlier?‘The new golden age of college hockey?’” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
A smug grin replaced the somber look on Jake’s face. “You got it Coach.”
five
. . .
Violet
“Don’t hate me,but I think we need to recruit more participants.”
I did my best to hold in the groan I was dying to let out while my advisor stared at the puzzling set of graphs and brain images on the screen. I’d finally found a few hours of free time last night to run some preliminary analyses on the data I had hoped to use for my third-year project. After spending the entirety of the summer practically living at the MRI center on campus scanning moms’ and babies’ brains, I had hoped I would be done with data collection by the time the semester started. I had a feeling that I may have bit off more than I could chew when I initially pitched tracking how infants' brains develop during the first three months of life. Working with infants meant tons of messy and hard-to-distinguish brain scans, not to mention how difficult it is to recruit busy caregivers in the first place. But Bethany gaveme the green light and well…I was never one to back down from a challenge.
Dr. Bethany Coleman was the psychology department’s leading expert on all things babies, brains, and caregiving relationships. In addition to being a top researcher in the field with a lab booming with productivity, she still manages to chase her two twin boys around. In addition to having her career and personal life together, Bethany always looks like a runway model. Though she was only 5’8 in heels, her blonde hair was styled in a cute shoulder-length bob, and she had a capsule wardrobe that would make Michael Kors jealous. When I first met her, I wasn’t sure what I wanted more — to work with Bethany or tobeher.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” I rubbed the sides of my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “We had forty families come in, but only thirty babies managed to stay asleep long enough for us to get a good scan.”
Bethany had the decency to look sorry for me. “The downside of working with cute, tiny humans — it’s so hard to get them to lay still! I think if we can get maybe fifteen more families in, we’ll be all set.”
“I can probably move some things around for the next few weekends and also schedule evening scans at the imaging center to get this done by January—” Goodbye sleep and my ill-fated attempt at a work-life balance. Though I suppose you can’t say goodbye to something you never had.
“Mmm…why don’t we aim for November? I think it’d be nice to have data collection completed and a draft of your paper before winter break.”
I know I should push back. Between my teaching schedule, coursework, and the other parts of my dissertation I hadn’t touched yet, there was no way I’d be able to recruit fifteen additional families and analyze their brain scans in two months. It’s not like my other lab mates weren’t constantly asking for extensions. They had warned me from the start that Bethany’s perceptionof how much time it takes to run projects was…idealistic and that she usually never had issues with moving deadlines around. But I already owed Bethany so much for what she'd done for me this past year. So instead of setting boundaries and asking for what I needed, I did the thing I always do.
“Yeah, that makes sense. I can make that work.”
Staring at my laptop I know one thing for certain — my calendar is an absolute nightmare. If you listen closely, you can hear a 16-year-old Taylor Swift singing ‘Should’ve Said No.’ My people-pleasing tendencies had failed me again, and now I had somehow managed to double my workload. In an attempt to get a head start on things, I went straight to my office after my meeting with Bethany. Not too long after one of my research assistants texted me about our computer freaking out in the middle of a participant session. The hour I would’ve used to get ahead faded away along with my hopes of this semester being less stressful than the last.
By the time I get everything sorted out and return to my office, I’m interrupted by a faint knock on my office door. Setting out a small plea to the universe that this time the person behind the door wouldn’t be an entitled student yelling at me for a grade change, I call out.
“C’mon in. How can I help y?—”
The words die in my throat, along with all the thoughts in my head, as a familiar scent of pine and soap washes over me and goosebumps trail down my entire body. Please no. It can’t behimagain. I had barely recovered from our last run in. And this time I had no place to escape to.It’s okay Violet. You’re okay.Just pretend he’s a stranger whose dropped by your office hours.Easy enough.
I debated how long I could keep up this facade of pretending to not know him. It’s not like we hadn’t grown up in the samesmall town together, or that his younger sister wasn’t my best friend. Or that he once knew me better than anyone else in the world. Before he can respond, Maya, a data scientist in my lab, walks through my door looking equally as flustered as I feel.
“So sorry to bother you Violet, but the computer in the lab crashed again. We need to get it up and running before the family arrives in 10 minutes. Do you think you can take another look?”
Talk about perfect timing.
“Absolutely!” I gathered up all my belongings with the full intention of never returning. It’s not that I was particularly attached to my broom closest-turned-office, but I would miss the private space. Now that he knew I was here, I simply couldn’t come back. Ever. I politely shove him out of the office and slam the door shut behind me.
