“What?”
“An MA in lit is so you. Now that you put it in my head, it’s all I can see. Oh, you could be a professor! That would be perfect for you. I can’t even imagine you at law school now.”
I frown. “Thanks a lot.”
“No, not like that.” She touches my arm, but there’s nothing to it. No spark, no heat. Not like when Hannah touches me. “You’re smart. You could totally do it. It would just be so wrong.”
I hesitate. Hannah said almost the same thing, months ago. She even said I’d make a great teacher. “But I’d be cut off. How could I ever pay for it?”
Alex shrugs and sips her beer. “If it’s what you want to do with your life, shouldn’t you try to find a way? And it means getting the girl you’re in love with back. Sounds worth the effort to me. I mean, I’d have moved mountains to get into Chicago College. Do you want it that bad?”
Doing what I love for the rest of my life and winning back Hannah? Of course I want it that bad. But can I have it? Do I have what it takes to make it happen?
It all comes down to this, doesn’t it? What I want versus what others want from me. What I choose now will determine how I live the rest of my life. It seems so simple, so painfully obvious, that I don’t know why I ever thought I could make another choice.
Of course, it won’t be that simple. Or easy. But Alex is right. I have to give it everything I’ve got, no matter how hard it is. My life is worth it. Hannah is worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hannah
The World of Books near campus couldn’t be more different than Prometheus; it’s hard to believe the two stores serve the same function. I wander the aisles, looking for something to read. I haven’t picked up a book since I walked out of Ben’s apartment a week ago, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m desperate to get lost in someone else’s world for a while, so I’ve waded into the superstore, even though buying a book without Ben physically hurts.
The store is massive, with soaring high ceilings and bright fluorescent lighting. The shelves are glossy, pale wood lined with tidy, dust-free stacks of books with multiple copies of each title. Printed tags identify some as best sellers or award-winners. Every book is clean and new, without battered dust jackets, dog-eared pages, or notes scribbled inside front covers or along the margins. They’re all blank slates, created to be read fresh, without history to share.
Round tables are scattered everywhere with books grouped by theme. Non-fiction, crime, young adult fantasy, book club favorites, and beach reads even though it’s winter in Ohio and the beach is a distant memory. They make it so easy to find exactly what you want to read, so why am I still wandering the store in a fog?
Nothing grabs my attention. I don’t want to know how many weeks this book topped the New York Times Bestseller list, or when the blockbuster film adaptation is being released. I want to know what Ben thought about it. I want Ben to describe it to me, his eyes alight with excitement. I want a book that Ben has picked out especially for me, because he knows me and knows it’ll be exactly the one I want and need to read right now. But Ben isn’t here, instead an army of World of Books employees in identical red polo shirts are. And not one of them looks like they would happily spend an hour picking out the perfect book for me to read.
Without Ben, there isn’t any excitement to this process. I’m not searching this room full of books, mind spinning with possibilities like in Prometheus. Even with the burned out bulbs, the dust, the rickety, mismatched, overstuffed shelves, Prometheus felt magical. Here I could just as easily be buying canned soup or T-shirts.
I miss him so much, and I could have him back with a phone call. I’m not even all that mad that he kept law school a secret from me anymore. He was under a freakish amount of pressure from his dickhead dad, and he knew what I’d say, so he didn’t want to tell me. I get it. But he’s still moving to Chicago in a few months and starting a new life that’s the antithesis of everything he cares about. It’s going to change him, and I can’t bear to watch him become someone new. I love the old Ben too much.
I don’t buy anything. There’s nothing here I want. It’s snowing again outside, coating the dirty heaps already on the ground with a fresh, clean layer of white. I walk without a destination as I watch my feet sink into the snow, one step after the other, over the Tenumbrah River and into downtown Arlington. The sparkling twinkle lights strung up for the holidays have all been packed away. The magic is gone.
I’ve actively avoided going anywhere near Prometheus since I walked out on Ben. But it’s like my feet are hardwired to go there, and I’m turning onto Charles Street before registering where I’ve been headed. Now that I’m here, I just want to walk by and catch a glimpse of him, to see if he looks as bad as I feel.
Halfway up the block, he steps out the door, and a second later, Alex exits behind him. She’s chattering away about something, laughing, while Ben smiles and nods and goes through the routine of closing up the shop.
Well, I wanted to torture myself, and now I’m getting what I wanted, because this is awful. I can’t breathe. I can’t move a muscle. More than anything, I want to run away, but I can’t stop looking.
Ben finishes closing the store, and they chat for a minute. Ben shrugs offhandedly and motions up the street in the opposite direction from me. Alex smiles at him. He’s not looking at her, so he doesn’t see it, but I do. She’s fucking flirting with him.
After another moment, they turn and walk away side by side.
I told Jasmine it was a possibility that he and Alex might be together in law school next year, since she’d mentioned applying to the same school he’s going to. I thought maybe he’d remember how much he wanted her before he met me. Seems I was right.
I stand there long after they’ve disappeared from sight. The truth is obvious: Ben has already started down that new path he chose. And he might have started me down my own path, but it’s clear I need to follow it alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ben
Candlelight glints off the hefty silver cutlery and wineglasses filled with a very expensive Cabernet. Heavy, white plates laden with perfectly prepared steaks rest on a thick, snowy tablecloth in one of the best steakhouses in Chicago.
My father set up this “celebratory” dinner to thank Richard as soon as the call came in about my acceptance. I didn’t cancel it, even after my enlightening conversation with Alex.
I’ve fucked up—in many ways and for a long time. But the biggest mistake I’ve made is living in fear. I have a long list of things I need to do, but this one is a top priority. If I’m going to go for it, I can’t have the security of law school and a trust fund to fall back on. I don’t want the temptation of taking the path of least resistance when things get hard. If I’m finally going to be brave enough to claim my own future; I’m doing it without a safety net.
“Once you get to the spring semester, we can start looking for an internship with a firm or a clerkship with a judge for next summer,” Richard says.
My father leans forward and stabs his fork into a blood-red slice of steak. “You want an internship with a good firm, Ben.” He points his dripping steak at me. “None of this clerkship stuff. Knowing you, you’ll end up working as a damn public defender if you go that route.”
“Public defenders play a vital role in the system,” Richard says evenly.
It sucks that I have to drag him into our drama—he’s actually a friendly, decent guy, despite being old friends with my dad—but the only way Dad will get it is if I make it irrevocable, and for that, I need witnesses. This isn’t some minor Ben rebellion he can crush and sweep under the family rug. This is a full-out revolution. Go big or go home, right? Well, after tonight, I won’t have a home, so I’m going really big. All this time I’ve been looking for a way around his ultimatum, but the answer is clear. I don’t need to go around— I need to bust straight through it and stop worrying about what’ll break when I do.
“Sure, public defe
nders are useful,” my father agrees. “For folks who need them. And that’s fine for all those liberal arts types, but Ben here has a hell of a brain. He’ll do great in civil law. Right, Ben?”
I inhale deeply. Now’s the time. The opening is right here in front of me. If I back out now, I’ll never have the courage to do what I need to do. So I straighten my shoulders, look Dad straight in the eye, and say, “No.”
“Excuse me?” he says, a note of warning in his voice.
I put my fork down. “I won’t do great in civil law or criminal law or any other kind. I mean, yeah, I could muddle through if I wanted to, but I’m not going to because I’m not going to be a lawyer.”
“Now Ben,” my dad says smoothly. “We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you’ve talked, and I’ve gone along with it because I was scared, but I’m done with that. This isn’t right. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I know what I want to do with my life, and this isn’t it.”
“I thought we put the teaching nonsense to bed,” Dad snaps.
“You did. I haven’t. I won’t.”
Richard shifts uncomfortably. “If you’d like me to give you a moment—”
“That’s not necessary, Richard. Ben’s just—”
I stand, throwing my white linen napkin onto my untouched plate. “Ben’s finally fucking speaking up for himself.”
My dad’s voice drops into an ominous register. “You know what happens if you fuck this up, sport.” Unease flickers through me, but I shove it away. That’s an old reaction, left over from childhood. I’m about to lay claim to my adulthood. It’s long overdue.
“Yeah, I know, you’ll cut me off, disown me, whatever. Do what you want, but I’m not going to law school.”
Dad glares at me, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. “Exactly what do you think you’re going to do if you walk out of here?”
“I’ll catch a bus back to Arlington. I have a lot of stuff to fix, but it’s about time I started living my life for me, don’t you think?” I turn to Richard and extend my hand. “Richard, I’m sorry. You were really great. Thank you for everything, but I can’t do this.”
Richard hesitates, then smiles and shakes my hand. “Don’t worry about it, Ben. Good luck with everything.”
My dad snorts in disgust. “He’s going to need luck. I swear, Ben, you won’t see a dime from me.”
“I know, Dad. If I walk out, it’ll be big and bad and permanent. But for better or for worse, it’ll be mine. I’ll roll the dice, and I’ll play whatever comes up. You’re an investor— You should appreciate that, right?”
I don’t wait to hear his reaction. I turn and walk out of the restaurant into the freezing Chicago night. For the first time in ages, I can breathe.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hannah
“Jasmine, are these yours? They were in my laundry when I brought it back upstairs.” I hold up a tiny pair of lacy, red panties.
Her eyes light up. “That’s where they went! Sean’s going to be so excited. They’re his favorite.”
“Spare me the details, please.”
Jasmine’s touching up her makeup at lightning speed, getting ready to head out to a party hosted by Sean’s team. I’m doing my laundry on a Friday night. Of course.
“Hey, can I ask you something, Jasmine?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“So I talked to the guidance counselor today, and they approved my request to do a late drop.”
Jasmine turns away from her mirror to look at me. “What are you dropping?”
I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes on my neatly folded T-shirts. “The two classes from the Chemistry curriculum I was taking.”
“So you’re really pulling the plug?”
I look up in alarm. “You don’t think I’m making a mistake, do you?”
She laughs. “No, you moved on from chemistry way back last fall when you cracked open that first novel. Glad to see you owning it now. What are you adding in its place?”
“I talked to the professor of Selected Works of British Lit today, and she agreed to let me in if I get a tutor to help me catch up.”
A slow smile spreads across Jasmine’s face. “I knew it. Hannah Gregory, English major.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure yet. I just want to take some of the classes this year and I’ll see. I might still change my mind.”
“I don’t think so,” she singsongs. “Hannah’s finally found her passion. It’s too bad—”
Her face falls as she bites off the word, but I know what she was about to say. It’s too bad Ben isn’t here, because I’d have never found my way here without him. And he won’t even know.
“Sorry, Hannah, I didn’t mean—”
I swallow hard and look away. “It’s okay.”
She hesitates. “Have you heard from him?”
I shake my head and fight back tears. I’ve been so good lately, and I’m not going to break down now.
“I didn’t expect to. And now I really won’t.”
“What do you mean?”
I peek at her. “I saw him coming out of Prometheus.”
She glares at me. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to go there anymore.”
“I know, and I wasn’t. I just ended up on that street, and he was closing the store. Alex was with him.”
“Oh. Are they…?”
I shrug, hoping I look far less devastated than I feel. “I don’t know. But it looks like they’ll be together in law school next year, so it makes sense. She’s perfect for him.”
“So were you,” she says gently.
I shake my head. “For some version of himself he’s leaving behind, maybe.”
Jasmine sits down and puts an arm around me. “I know it sucks, but just focus on yourself right now, Hannah. So many great things are happening for you.”
As hard as it is, she’s right. I can’t keep dwelling on what I lost. Not when there’s so much still out there waiting for me to explore.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben
The English Department is the first stop I make when I get back to Arlington. I want to go straight to Hannah, but I’m still empty-handed. As long as I’ve known her, she’s seen the very best version of me, even when I didn’t believe that guy existed. I’m doing everything I can to bring him back to life, but I don’t want to just tell her I’m different, I need to show her. And for that, there are a few things I need to do first.
I catch Professor Donnelly right between classes. It’s a madhouse, with students pushing their way out of class as others try to push their way in. I squeeze behind a guy and reach Donnelly as he puts his notes back into his briefcase.
“Hey, Professor Donnelly, can I talk to you for a minute?”
The professor looks up and smiles at me. “Only a minute, I’m afraid. Class starts soon.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s about grad school next year.”
He nods. “You submitted your application, didn’t you?”
“I did.” That was my first act of rebellion, sending that application in on Thanksgiving Day. Here I am, finally seeing it through.
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. Your acceptance should be a fairly straightforward business. I believe the letters are going out in the next couple weeks. “
“It’s not getting in that’s the problem. It’s the money.” I pause and swallow thickly. “My financial situation has changed, and I’m going to have less support than I expected.”
“I see.” Donnelly rubs a finger across his chin. “And by ‘less,’ you mean…”
“None. I’m doing it on my own.”
“Oh dear. It’s quite a lot of money, you understand.”
I sigh. “I know. I really want to do this. I’m just not sure how to manage it.”
“Well, it’s not hopeless. There may be something we can do. There are a number of graduate assistantships available. Tuition would be reduced, or in some cases waived entirely in exchang
e for undergraduate teaching duties.”
“Teaching?”
Donnelly smirks. “The Intro to Composition classes normally. You’d be showing freshmen how to properly employ a semi-colon. I’m afraid it’s terribly unglamorous.”
“I wouldn’t mind that. Do you think I’d qualify for a graduate assistantship?”
“I’m happy to make the recommendation. The aid office awards them based on need however.”
I chuckle. “Well, I’m in need, that’s for sure. I’m on my own and pretty much penniless.”
“Then odds are good that you’ll get one to cover at least part of your tuition. Of course, it won’t help with living expenses. You’d have to cover that with some sort of outside funds.”
My mind spins, calculating just how cheaply I can live for the next several years. I’ve taken my father’s money for granted all my life. Now I’m out on a tightrope without a net, with only my own wits and hard work to depend on.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll email you some information about the assistantship application. You should have a talk with the financial aid department as soon as possible so you can begin establishing your need.”
I smile. “Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate your help.”
“I wish there was more I could do. You’ve got a lot of promise, Ben. I hope you can work this out and be a part of the program.”
“Me, too. I’d better go. I’ve got some other plans to make.”
“Good luck, Ben.”
The words steal my breath for a second. That’s the last thing Hannah said to me before she walked out. She said I’d need it, and I do. Luck and a whole lot of hard work, apparently. Donnelly’s next class is starting, so I clear out. I have a few more things to get lined up before I can fix the most important thing I broke.
Chapter Thirty
Hannah
As I stare at the hundreds of pages of reading I have to get through, my eyeballs want to turn inside out. But I talked my way into this English Lit class several weeks after the semester started, so it’s on me to catch up. I love it, I do, but I wish I didn’t have to love quite so much of it all at once.
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