Becka nodded decisively, and I watched in awe, and concern, at the way she straightened her back.
“What I should have done months ago.”
“I wish I was there.” I swallowed thickly.
Becka looked back at the screen, fixing me with a steely gaze.
“Babes, even from five-and-a-half thousand miles away, you have been here for me. Stop beating yourself up for being exactly where you need to be physically.”
I shrank back, slightly, but nodded.
“What can I do?”
“Not let me do this again.” Her chin trembled, but in the next moment I saw her jaw clench.
August
Becka kicked Ben out. It was quiet. She packed his things one day while he was running errands, and then when he got back and saw what she had done, he proved her right all over again when he didn’t put up a fight.
I sat with her for hours that night, listening to her cry.
But then it was done.
Jihoon called me every day, though it felt like we barely talked. I asked him about his day, he asked me about mine and then I put my phone on the bedside table and watched over him as he slept as I quietly went about my day.
He wasn’t okay, but I didn’t know how to help when it felt like he was pushing me away.
I had asked, I had pressed. He’d told me, “I need to work through something myself,jagiya. Please don’t ask me about it.”
And as much as that hurt, I wanted to respect his boundaries. So, I didn’t ask. And it killed me.
Somewhere between Becka’s bravery at reclaiming her emotional agency, and my Mum’s assurance that I could dowhatever I put my mind to, I found the courage to find something for myself.
I decided to apply to do another course at university.
After all, everyone was right when they pointed out that it wasn’t like I was doing anything else with my life.
But this was my life, so I needed to act like it.
At first I’d sort of gone through the application on a whim, but as I went further and further through the process, I found a kind of motivation that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was waking up, and it felt bloody good.
It felt like purpose.
I waited weeks, growing more and more anxious with every day that passed, no longer able to lose myself in other people’s dramas, so absorbed with this path that I’d chosen that I’d even started learning what I could while I waited.
I checked out books on journalism from online libraries, I subscribed to dozens of writers who I admired on social media. I read more magazines and papers than I had in years.
Until, one day at the end of the month, I received an email.
Subject: Offer of Place – Online BA (Hons) Journalism (September Intake)
Dear Miss Thompson,
Thank you for your recent application to our BA (Hons) Journalism (Online, 2-Year Accelerated Route) course beginning in September 2020. We are pleased to inform you that your application has been successful, and we are delighted to offer you a place on the programme.
Your portfolio, including your recentLooparticles, together with your A level qualifications, demonstrated the strong writingability, curiosity, and commitment that we value in our students. We believe you will make a valuable contribution to the course.
In the coming weeks, you will receive a welcome pack containing further details about enrolment, timetabling, and access to online learning resources. Please confirm your acceptance of this offer by replying to this email at your earliest convenience.
