‘Fine?’ I reply, slightly thrown. Doesn’t she want to hear my problems? Aren’t I supposed to be spilling my guts by now? ‘Busy. Kind of intense.’
‘Intense how?’
‘Um, I don’t know.’
‘You’re studying English?’
‘I am.’
‘And working at Members?’
My turn to nod.
‘The academic workload can be a bit of a shocker for some of our international students,’ she says, twisting a tiny silver hoop in her left earlobe. ‘The other third years have had two years to get used to it. How’s it been for you?’
‘Marshall is a tough school.’ I squeeze my hands into fists, fingernails biting into my palms. ‘It’s not like you can coast there, I worked super hard.’
‘Marshall is agreatschool,’ Billie says. ‘I’m sure if any of our students transferred to their English programme, it would be a culture shock. New ways of working, new expectations, new professors. I know I would’ve found it tricky, especially as someone who had to work alongside my studies. Actually, I’m curious …’ She stops twisting her earring but keeps hold of it and tilts herhead to one side. ‘What made you choose Members? Did you work in a bar at home?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘I was a waitress. In a diner.’
‘So this is your first time living in another country and your first bar job? Wow, that’s a lot to take on at once. How have you found it so far, balancing everything?’
I stare back at her. If I’d found it easy, I wouldn’t be sitting here.
‘My friend Alice said I should come see you,’ I say when it becomes clear she isn’t going to fill the silence. ‘I got caught up in an essay and missed a shift at Members and she thought it might help me to talk to someone.’
‘Because you missed a shift?’
‘Yes,’ I reply before pursing my lips and reconsidering. ‘It’s not like me to forget something. I’ve always been on top of my schedule and my classes and everything. Tuesday, things got on top of me is all. And there’s this guy and it’s complicated and … well …’
My words trail away and I jerk my shoulders, like the mere mention of a man should be explanation enough.
‘How did missing your shift make you feel?’
‘Terrible,’ I answer right away. ‘I’m not the kind of person who lets others down and I really can’t afford to lose that job. My parents paid so much for my tuition and we don’t have a ton of money, so I have to support myself while I’m here, and my friend was worried about me which made me feel even worse and I don’t even know if my paper is good enough, if I’m good enough, so it was all for nothing anyway and—’
A sharp pain in my chest cuts me off and unexpected tears spring to my eyes.
‘But I’m fine.’ I choke out the words, refusing to let my eyeswater. ‘It was just one difficult day because, you know I mentioned it already, there’s this guy.’
‘And he’s the reason you missed your shift?’
Billie reaches over to her desk to grab a box of Kleenex and places it on the arm of my chair. Without saying anything, I pull one from the box and crumple it up in my hand, just in case.
‘Yes? Kind of? It’s complicated. We were maybe kind of dating, but I found out he lied about something and I feel …’
Iron bands wrap around my lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter. How do I feel? I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours avoiding that question. Reading, studying, working, knocking myself out with the Nyquil my mom insisted I bring with me. Anything to avoid dealing with this. I close my eyes and feel myself being squeezed out of my body, not enough room for my thoughts and feelings, air and bones, not all at once.
‘There’s no right or wrong way to feel. You can’t give an incorrect answer to that question.’ Billie’s voice brings me back, but my body is still too small for me to fit inside. ‘What’s important is to give yourself space to work things out. It sounds to me like you don’t give yourself a lot of space.’
‘Pressure has always brought out the best in me,’ I hear myself say, eyes still closed. ‘I’ve always thrived under a deadline.’
‘Do you feel like you’re thriving now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, remembering the way my hands shook as I slid the essay into the box on Dr Quinn’s door. ‘But I’m figuring things out. As long as I pass the Dickens module and I don’t lose my job, everything will be okay. The whole Ethan thing was a mistake from the beginning, I knew it and I still fell for it, that’s why I feel,’ I pause to gasp in a short, sharp breath, ‘that’s why I feel so—’
Betrayed? Hurt? Heartbroken? Yes to all of those things. But that’s not what’s keeping me up at night.
