“Of course,” Ash said. Ash pulled their phone out from their pocket again to check their texts and calls. There were no unknown numbers and no new calls, just one text from Trixie asking if Ash wasokay. Why hadn’t Luke called? If someone had left Ash a note they weren’t feeling well, they would have at least checked in with them, made sure they were okay.
“Hey,” Michael said quietly. “He’ll call."
Ash groaned as they leaned their head on the back of the couch. “I hope so. He’s great, Michael. I could see this going somewhere.”
“I don’t mean to bethatguy, Ash, but…you had one drunken night with him. How can you be so sure?”
“I was sober by the time we got back to his place. But…I just know. There was a true spark there.”
“And you know he’s good in bed, so that’s a big plus,” Michael laughed.
Ash punched Michael lightly in the arm. “It’s not all about sex, Michael.”
Michael let out a loud laugh and pushed himself off the couch. “I should get going to cook dinner. Jess will be home soon. Do you need anything before I leave?”
“No, thank you,” Ash said. “I appreciate you hanging out and helping me today. I owe you one.”
“You owe me nothing. This is what friends are for, Ash.” Michael gave Ash’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he dropped his beer bottle in the recycling and left Ash alone.
Ash looked around their small apartment, comparing it to Luke’s house. The tiny kitchen had barely enough counter space to cook a decent meal. The old gas stove took forever to turn on, and the stainless steel sink was always clogging. The kitchen overlooked the living room in which Ash sat. Their green suede couch faced a television that was way too small for the space. The coffee table between the two was scratched from years of misuse. The door to the left of the kitchen led to the one bathroom with a chipped toilet. Ash’s bedroom wasbig enough for a bed, a desk, and a cheap desk chair. Compared to Luke’s home, Ash’s apartment felt suddenly inadequate. Luke was comfortable enough to be in a house, even if he was just renting. Ash barely made enough money to pay the rent on their apartment. It would be a little easier with the salary they would start earning in a few months. The leap from grad student stipend to professor salary was hefty. The salary alone would help Ash get their finances under control—they could finally think about paying back their student loans. If they ever wanted to buy a house, Ash needed to start paying off their loans as soon as possible.
Ash pulled out their computer from the bottom shelf of the coffee table and created a simple spreadsheet for budgeting. If their calculations were accurate, after basic monthly payments, they would have a few hundred dollars left over. If they paid an additional fifty dollars a month towards their student loans, they would pay it off almost a year sooner. They could do this. They could be an adult.
As Ash worked for their PhD, they watched their friends grow up, land jobs, and get married. Michael had a beautiful Victorian house on the river in downtown Binghamton. He had married Jess three years ago at a vineyard in Ithaca. Trixie moved to Syracuse, where she worked as a nurse alongside her emergency room doctor husband. Sage lived with their spouse in Corning and worked as a glassblowing instructor at the Corning Museum of Glass. Their spouse was a curator at the museum. All their friends started their lives years ago and were settled in careers and relationships, and Ash was just getting started. They didn’t have a partner. They didn’t have a home. They wouldn’t even have a job for a few months.
Ash set their computer aside and wandered into their room, where they tore their closet apart. Ash needed the perfect outfit that combined professionalism with approachability. They wanted theirstudents to reach out with questions, but they also wanted to look older than they really were, though Ash was certain their nineteen-year-old students wouldn’t think they were young at twenty-eight. When Ash was that age, they thought anyone over twenty-five was a real adult. But now, Ash knew better. They were merely a child with a drinking permit.
Several outfits thrown over their shoulder later, Ash couldn’t find a single thing to wear. They would need to go shopping for some professional clothing. The one outfit they wore to defend their dissertation wouldn’t last them an entire semester.
Frustrated, Ash sat on their couch with a movie and a bowl of cereal. It would do them no good to fret. Tomorrow was a new day.
Chapter four
The chocolate donuts looked divine, but Ash couldn’t go near them, not with the way nerves flipped their stomach. It was nice that the university provided their professors with food before the year's start—if Ash wasn’t fighting nausea, they would have taken full advantage. Instead, they sat in a corner with a cup of peppermint tea, hoping it would settle their stomach. Normally a coffee drinker, Ash worried another cup of coffee would send them over the edge.
“Ash,” the familiar voice of Dr. Mellencamp called as she approached, pulling Ash from their thoughts. “Or, should I say, Dr. Pierce?”
“Hi, Dr. Mellencamp,” Ash said, smiling up at their dissertation advisor. Ash would never tire of being referred to as Doctor.
“Please, we’re colleagues now. Call me Jenn,” she said, sliding into the seat across from Ash. Her bright floral button-down stood out in a sea of white shirts. Her curly black hair was pulled into a bun, exposing her bright blue eyes.
“Jenn.” The name was foreign on Ash’s tongue. After so many years of referring to her formally, the change would take some time to get used to.
“How are you feeling for your first class?” Jenn asked, sipping her coffee.
Ash took a deep breath. “Nervous.”
“It’s syllabus week. You’ll go in, introduce yourself, go through the syllabus, and send them home. You can do this. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ash leaned back in their chair. Realistically, they knew Jenn was right, but that didn’t help settle the apprehension. “I could forget my own name.”
“They’ll laugh and you’ll recover. Not that it will happen, but no one would care if it did. You earned your place here. You’ve taught undergrads before—you were one of the most beloved introductory chem teachers. You might even have some repeated students.”
“The stakes are higher now,” Ash said. “This is my career, not a requirement for my PhD. If I teach gen-chem poorly, who cares? Half those kids weren’t going to be chemists anyway. At this point, you’re only taking physical chemistry if you’re majoring in chem. These kids actually like chemistry.”
Jenn laughed. “Ash, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. No one likes p-chem.” When Ash gave her a wide-eyed look, Jenn laughed. “Okay, no one except you likes it.”
Even though Ash laughed at Jenn’s words, they knew it was true. When they took the class, even the professor didn’t seem particularly invested in the subject. Ash had trouble finding a study group because no one seemed interested. Their end-of-semester presentation was incredibly in-depth and way more serious than anyone else’s. How others felt about p-chem was how Ash viewed organic chemistry.
