Me, Myself, and I

the big tree

I left Ben a message before I went back to my dorm that night. Told him I was failing my classes, not a complete and utter lie. That I wouldn't be able to see him until after finals. That I was sorry. To text or call if he needed anything.

He didn't.

The days were a lot longer without those trips. Longer stretches with Alex, watching him read books at the library. So encapsulated by the text in front of him. I couldn't stand sitting next to him in our Business class. He modeled everything I wasn't. And he'd glare whenever I did speak up, though the professor usually look like he'd had some sort of epiphany, wide eyes, compliment me in some way. Became the highlight of my Fridays when we had group discussions.

Ben. I wondered what he was doing now. What had Kyle said to him? Did he say anything at all? Then I thought about that file. That dusty old piece of paper that couldn't be any good for me to see. Your family, he had said. I didn't think I cared enough about my own family to let him blackmail me like that. What was I thinking? Kyle wasn't even home, bet. He wouldn't even know if I stopped by. The deadline was almost up. It wouldn't hurt to sneak in early, would it?

A chair shrieked beside me, and I popped out of my daze. My fingers, chewed to the nub, held a mechanical pencil, the lead halfway out of the tip. I pushed it back in and held the eraser down, frowning at my blank notepad.

"You've got all these great ideas. But the minute I ask you to articulate yourself, you shy away from me." Professor Jake. That's who'd sat beside me in the empty classroom. How long ago had class ended? "Why is that?"

I could do nothing but stare at him. He'd tightened his locks into bun, his suit smelled like bleach. I wondered why Alex hadn't tapped me out of it. We'd hit up lunch after this class. But his seat was vacated with the others. That little—

"You seem distracted."

How'd you figure that one?

I tinkered with my pencil again, felt the led marking up my fingertips. "Professor—"

"Jake. I'm your counselor right now."

"Your class is the only one I'm passing right now."

He raised an eyebrow. Bushy eyebrow. "Don't you think I know that already?"

"I figured."

I hadn't.

"You have a ton of promise. Your mind doesn't work conventionally. I want to see you here next semester." His smile was wide. "There's a management class, I hear the professor's a nut-job, but you'd get that hands-on work I sense you want. You just got to get through the basics first."

I spoke the words that had been circling my head. "I don't know if there will be a next semester."

"Pa! Nonsense."

"Professor—"

"I told you, call me Jake here. We're two friends talking here. Me the wise, and you the follower. The Sam to my Frodo. Or I suppose I could be Sam." He'd lost me. He tapped my blank piece of paper. "You're smart enough. You've proven that much. You just need to get organized. You ever make lists?"

"To do lists? Sure. But I never follow them."

Geez. I was starting to sound like Ben.

"Then start with something achievable. Never let yourself get above three items."

"Like a bucket list?"

"Sort of. Instead of dying, you get to start a new list."

He proceeded to show me the other business classes. He must've been chewing on this one a while. Management? I suppose telling other people what to do wasn't a foreign concept to me. He went on about marketing, that I had a knack for what people wanted to see. Said I had the instincts of a good investor. I could struggle a bit with statistics, but it's something you get to see in action. I dared to believe him. See myself at the top of some corporate latter.

I'd wanted NYU. I'd never bothered to think past that point. The dream was too far and unreal to ever think what I might actually do with a college education. Why had I wanted NYU, anyway? Clearly not for an education.

The prestige. The ability to leave, to say I left. That I tried to do something. That I was good enough to try.

Mom's NYU diploma was collecting dust somewhere. No one was going to remember her at that school. She'd left nothing behind but a debt trail and a C average. Did I honestly think I'd leave anything better?

NYU clearly didn't think so.

I snapped back. Jake had started drawing a tree on my notepad. "This here. This is your big goal. You got a long way to get there. A long hard way. So start at the bottom, get those little goals written down. Accomplish one branch at a time."

And so I did.

Jake had concluded our meeting with his own little motivational quote. Belonged on dishware:

"If you're always working towards something, you'll always be motivated."

I suppose a part of me had always been keeping lists. But now I had one to go back to. Small and achievable. Narrowing down the frantic chaos to a simple list of tasks. It varied every day as things got done. Finish that math homework. Call Alex. Call Dad. Forget call Dad. Don't know what to say to Dad. One more assignment. One at a time. And soon, I had boiled the lowest branch down to this:

1. Study for Finals

2. Spend time with Alex

3. Pick courses for next semester

For the briefest moment, Ben was out of the picture. So was Dad. Therapy. Anything but those three things, living in the moment. One thing at a time. I didn't have anything for the top of the tree. Not yet. I ignored the empty clamshell of a feeling and opened up my laptop, clicked on my inbox.

Then I got college's version of a report cart. A progress report.

I was no longer passing Business 101.