The Do-Over(61)
Author: Suzanne Park

 

Her words hit me one after another. I was barely able to process them. Throughout my first three years of college, I’d picked up campus work-study jobs and various other part-time gigs, but increasing my hours wouldn’t be enough to pay my parents’ portion of tuition. I was in a lot of debt with federal loans already, and although my brain couldn’t process what was happening, the math worked: graduating early would help my family financially.

 

How many classes did I need? Five, maybe six? My schedule would be packed with courses and whatever part-time work I could find to help offset expenses. I would have no life.

 

My phone beeped. It was Jake calling on the other line. I ignored it.

 

Rather than apologize or temper this shocking major life change, my mom said, “Well, you can go to Spain another time. When you retire. We didn’t want you to go anyway, too much playing.”

 

Boy, she hit a nerve with that one.

 

I cried out in frustration, “Why do you think I’d go there to play? What do you even mean by that? I wanted to do something on my own for once. Make my own decisions. I didn’t even choose Carlthorpe, remember? You and Appa did. And now when I finally have an opportunity to grow up, to figure out how the world works, to enjoy my life . . . I even saved up spending money and tried to do something for myself for once . . . and nothing goes right! And on top of that, I’m the one who has to take the brunt of this money crunch, not future doctor Sara.” I let out a frustrated scream as my stomach twisted into a distorted pretzel. A familiar feeling of tightness in my abdomen returned in full force, along with a sense of dread. Could I even get any classes I wanted? Could I get campus housing now? Where would I stay before classes started?

 

I could hear my mom repeating my name over and over, each time sounding more irritated and impatient. It was too much for me. I ended the call and leaned my head back on the bench.

 

What a fucking disaster.

 

A set of large hands covered my eyes from behind. “Guess who?”

 

I whirled around, my angry fist making immediate contact with Jake’s chest.

 

He held his palms up. “Whoa there! I was just messing with you. And shit, that hurt. I was worried because you were taking such a long time at the bank. We need to leave in a few minutes, so I came looking for you.”

 

“I’m not going,” I barely whispered. Tears tumbled down my cheeks and I wiped them away with the palms of my hands.

 

I repeated those words again. Louder, sadder, and void of hope. “I’m. Not. Going.”

 

Even then, the words still didn’t feel real.

 

He came around to my side of the bench and sat down. “What happened? Did you get cold feet? Did someone get hurt? Is everything okay?”

 

No point in hiding any of it. I told him about my dad’s sudden job loss. How they were paying for my sister’s med school too and prioritizing it over my undergraduate studies. He looked stunned as I shuddered and sobbed.

 

I looked at him. “Could you stay with me?” Just a while. Or longer. Until I figured some things out. “Please?”

 

Jake’s eyes darkened. He hadn’t had much time to process what I’d told him, but when his face fell, I knew things were about to get worse.

 

I pleaded anyway, with more desperation in my voice. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave.”

 

And this was when a potentially touching moment together turned into another unexpected, life-changing one that would haunt me forever.

 

Jake didn’t offer to stay a few hours, or a day or two to help me get on my feet. Nor did he say he could stay with me for any part of the week when we were supposed to vacation in Paris, when we were going to sightsee together and stuff ourselves with butter-laden pastries.

 

He proposed none of those things.

 

His face hardened instead. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t flake out on this. You know how you’re always on my case about how I do a million things but I never see anything through? My parents say the same thing. They’re fed up with me. For switching majors, for changing my mind about summer internships, for not knowing what I want to do after college. They threatened to cut off my college funds, but they said I could go to Spain if I proved I could be responsible. They’ll kill me if I bail this time.” His eyes became watery but he remained steadfast. “I’m sorry, Lily. I can’t back out. I have to go.”

 

The alarms on my phone and watch went off at the same time. A reminder it was exactly four hours prior to the flight departure time. The car service we scheduled to take us to the airport would arrive at any moment.

 

I withered into a smaller, fragile version of myself. Jake’s phone buzzed over and over. “I need to get this. It’s my mom. I—I don’t know what to say to her. But I should take it.”

 

He hesitated a second, then whispered to me, “I still love you.” When I didn’t respond, he said it a second time. I still didn’t say it back. Instead, I fought back tears and looked away from him.

 

After the phone rang again, he walked a few steps away from the bench and answered. “Hi, Umma. I’m kind of busy.” A pause. “Heading out to the airport soon. Everything’s taken care of, I’ll call you when I land. Okay, sure, put Appa on the line.”

 

“I need to go,” he mumbled to me as he covered the phone receiver. He tried to kiss my forehead, but I shirked away from his touch. His hurried footsteps down the walkway were timed perfectly to the frantic beat of my heart. The aching inside my chest was unbearable, a physical sign of my heart slowly breaking in real time. Jake’s silhouette grew smaller and smaller in the distance, and eventually disappeared.

 

He was gone.

 

I was alone.

 

I came back to Mia’s apartment a few hours later. Her new roommate, an exchange student from Hong Kong, wasn’t arriving for a couple of weeks. So that gave me time to plan around my calamity. Not much time, but some.

 

I undressed in the bathroom and flicked on the hot water.

 

Hot showers usually relaxed me and cleared my mind, but not this time. The stream of water hit the back of my neck. My brain played back the worst parts of the afternoon’s events. No trip to Spain. Not having money because of my dad’s job loss. Jake abandoning me.

 

No Spain. No money. No Jake. Over and over again.

 

My mind felt sluggish as the steam from the shower enveloped me. Each breath I drew was more and more shallow.

 

I needed fresh air.

 

No, I needed to sit. Sliding my back down the shower wall, I sat knees to chest in the shower. The water temperature transitioned from hot to warm to tepid as I closed my eyes, trying to control my breath.