Pining: Forgiveness Ch. 25

I balance my checkbook—again. If I put aside the money I need for November's and December's rent I might have enough to eat. I'm not sure I have the cash to pay the minimum stipend on my maxed cards. I don't actually know what happens if I default on one. I don't want to find out. I know I don't have enough to pay my medical bills. I could send them home but Mother would bitch. Dad would...I don't know what Dad would do. We've talked. Once or twice I thought he was going to bring up my nightmare but he doesn't. I almost wish he would. I need to know that he still loves me. I mean, he says he loves me but the whole thing is hanging over my head. I feel like a French revolutionary waiting for the guillotine. Just thinking about it causes pressure to swell in my sinuses. Everything goes blurry and it feels like a mud-dauber has jabbed me in the eyes.

I lift my gaze to the ceiling. I don't want to cry about this. Again. I blink rapidly. I want to rub the sting out of my eyes but I'm wearing my contacts.

Disaster averted. I use my laptop to log back into the CPU classifieds. I've applied for six food service jobs, a tutoring position and tried begging one of my professors for a job as an Undergrad TA. I've gotten to know this girl, Kayla, as we waited in line for three of the four interviews we've had. She got the job at the campus diner over by the sports complex. I'm happy for her—sorta. I am, at least I want to be, but...now it's my turn. Bitch. Not really. Dammit! I hate thinking like this.

I don't find anything new. I surf over to a Sallie Mae portal and see if there's some way I can dig myself even deeper into student debt. I already owe Ms. Mae more than I've made in my entire life. I don't know what else to do.

An email notification pops up. It's my student advisor. I've been trying to get an appointment with her in hopes she can point me to some work. Or handouts. Or something. I tab over to Outlook. An unexpected opportunity opened in Professor Allison Jacobs schedule at one-thirty. She has something urgent to share. I don't know if I should feel hope or nerves. Nerves win out. They definitely win out. I feel a little sick.

I fire off a confirmation email. It's twelve-forty-five but I've got to walk across campus and I don't want to be late. I shutdown my laptop, slip a fleece coat over my bodysuit sweater and head out. It's between classes so there's not, like, a million people on the student superhighway. Fortunately the early snow melted during the follow-up rainstorm. There's no ice, so walking is easy. It's sunny but chilly today. Ashley is headed into class early so she joins me.

She's quiet though. It's been nearly two weeks since the wedding. We live in the same house. We attend many of the same classes. Somehow we've not had a chance to stop and chat.

Actually, that's a lie. We've chatted a lot—all about me. I need to ask what's up because even shitty friends ask their not shitty friends about themselves once every millennium or so.

"You're awfully quiet, Ash."

She flinches like she's surprised I'm talking—or forgotten that I was there. Maybe she thought her shitty friend just didn't care. "Oh, I—Just thinking."

"About what? Is something bothering you?"

Ashley gifts me a noncommittal shrug and glances away across the lake. She doesn't look upset, or sad, just a little lost.

"Are you still seeing Camron?" I ask. I don't think she is. I didn't even think they'd really gotten together. They'd gone on maybe two dates in September but she'd not talked about him since.

"What makes you say that?"

"Is it about Roman?" When Ash had first laid eyes on Roman outside of Collin's house she'd drooled. Everything after had rubbed her wrong.

Ashley shoots me an alarmed glance. She bites her lip and then ducks her head. Her cheeks take on a rosy hue. I don't think it's from the chill air flowing down from the mountains.

"He's a dick."

"Boys do tend to have those in place of brains."

I don't get a snicker. Not even a lip twitch.

"Why is he so aggravating? It's like everything he says is designed to push my buttons. I think he does it on purpose."

I'd only seen the two of them together during my dress fitting but I think that too. I've seen him with Collin. The boy is constantly poking.

"I think that's how he is, Ash. I told you about the Oreo cookies."

This time her lips do twitch. I think she almost laughs.

"You know, Collin and I are the only people in your circle that bisects Roman's. You can just avoid him, Ash. I won't be offended if you bail on me when he's around. Col doesn't have the right to be offended."

Ashley side eyes me. She tilts her face away so I can't see her expression. "I run into him outside of Wyatt." She's talking towards the lake so her voice is kind of muffled.

Wyatt is one of the lecture halls over by the Engineering and Architecture Department. My girl is studying to be an engineer. I wonder what Roman's major is. I'd have thought it was Broadcasting or Journalism or Sports Something. He's good enough to go pro. Most athletes don't go for a degree as nerdy as those taught in Wyatt.

A thought occurs to me. "Ash, are you hanging with Ro?"

"He follows me to lunch."

That's a surprise. I'm all but certain that if Ashley told Roman to get lost—as in, you're creeping me out, get lost—he'd leave her alone. He might be a tease but I've not once gotten creep vibes from him, not even when he was trying to get me to put on that frilly maid outfit of mine. I can't put my finger on why, because Collin's friends are definitely boys-boys, but I always feel safe with them. "Do you invite him to lunch?"

Ashely places her face in her hands and groans. "Once." A beat cycles. "Okay, twice." She looks at me. There's a blush on her cheeks and it's not her makeup. "Three times last week, twice this week." She wrings her hands. "I—" Her chest heaves. "—came back to the house for lunch today."

I can't tell if she's upset that anxiety about Roman drove her back to the house or if she's upset she didn't stay on campus and have lunch with Ro. If Ash's brain is anything like mine, it's both. I know I can't think straight when it comes to Col. At any given moment I want five different things and all of them conflict.

The College of Sports Health and Sciences and the College of Engineering and Architecture are on opposite ends of campus, so when we reach the quad we wave our goodbyes and peel off. I find my way to Filbert, climb five flights of stairs and knock on Allison's door. Professor Jacobs is an academic and a woman, so her office is fricking tiny. There's not enough room for her, her desk and her books. So the books are stacked everywhere. Her one window looks on the wall of the neighboring lecture hall. I instinctively squeeze my shoulders together so I take up as little room as possible when I enter. I try not to breathe too deep. If the mildew scent clinging to the less airy spaces in Filbert makes me sneeze, I might not stop.

Professor Allison Jacobs was a mildly stocky, shorter woman. She'd not had her brunette bob colored in some time and I could see the gray next to her part. I thought her young for reading glasses, but, apparently, she needed them. They were perched on the end of her nose when I entered. She didn't look up from her laptop until I was seated. I liked her. She was a good mentor. She went out of the way for her students, female and male, but she was very busy and often abrupt. She was not a pat-you-on-the-back-and-comfort-you kind of person. If she were a man she'd be called a straight shooter. As a woman, she's often a bitch.

"McKenzie, you're looking for a job." Prof asked the question like it was a statement.

"I am. I don't have any money. I don't know how..." How I'm going to finish my degree. But I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to put it out to the universe.

"You're not working at Sisters Exposed?"

I didn't hear judgment but that didn't stop the mortification that washed through me. Heat blossomed in my cheeks and I actually felt faint—like, break out the smelling salts, faint. Not a lot slipped by Prof Jacobs but I thought—prayed—that that hadn't reached her.

"It's okay dear. I know things are getting hard—harder—for people trying to receive an education. Like so many things, it seems that young women are the first to be steam rolled."

"I'm not doing that anymore." Already small, my voice grew smaller. "I can't."

"Well, I guess that solves one issue."

Issue? I really am going to faint. My vision narrows and I see the black spots and everything.

"Brad Wilson is looking for another analyst intern and he's asked for you by name. But the University has a reputation to maintain and they'd prefer if you didn't...moonlight."

"I..." Brad Wilson? As in Coach Brad Wilson? What was happening right now?

"Brad would like to meet you in person. If you and he come to an agreement, you'll be offered a provisional internship with the hockey program. The position is not a W-2 job. Instead your tuition will be waived. Think of it more like an athletics scholarship. You'll receive a quarterly stipend for books, a monthly housing allowance and a campus meal plan. You'll have obligations you have to meet for the athletics department, including, but not limited to, attending practices and games. You'll be required to review hundreds of hours of game stream. It's a full time job and between that and your courses, your schedule will be full. It'll look great on your CV."

I—I—I—Ohmigod! Yes! "When?" I have no clue how my voice is so calm. I still feel like fainting, because—ohmigod!

"Brad has forty-five minutes at three-thirty."

I have a class. I won't be attending. Sorry Professor Lawrence.

"I've taken the liberty of telling Richard you won't be in class today."

I ask if Allison has any interview tips. I hang on every word like my life depends on it.

Because it does.