“Want to have a study session this weekend? I’ll order some takeout?” Jared offered. We had an awkward twenty-four hours after the bathroom incident, but he showed up the next morning with a box of donuts, undeterred. He had to have known what I did in there. When Hamilton and I were done, I opened the bathroom door with my shaking legs, flushed face, and racing heart. Jared was standing on the other side with his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t pressured me to explain what had happened, but I didn’t have to. At least he hadn’t pushed for another date. I knew with complete certainty that Jared and I were only meant to be friends. I couldn’t be seduced by his determined politeness or the playful press of his leg against mine as we watched Netflix on the floor of my living room. I couldn’t be swayed by his compliments, his gifts, his thoughtfulness, or his unwavering niceties. Jared was like Tylenol, dulling the slight ache to my pounding restlessness. Hamilton was opium—bad for me and addictive.
Jared still flirted all the same, it was in his nature to do so. But he’d absolutely reined it in since our almost kiss at the bar. I was thankful that he had backed off, because while he was reestablishing himself as a friend, Hamilton was staking himself as…well, I wasn’t quite sure.
Hamilton and I spoke daily. About nothing. About everything. He talked about his job on the rig, and I told him about my classes. I was oddly comfortable with him, but it constantly felt like the other shoe was about to drop. Every time I saw his name pop up on my phone, my stomach fluttered, and I didn’t even bother to play it cool. I answered every time, pushing the guilt down as far as it would go, all while telling myself that this would be the last time.
I’d lie on my back, hidden in the shadows of three a.m. as he spoke in his signature deep voice to me.
Wet.
With a secret smile on my lips as he spoke dirty promises. Every night, I fell asleep with the rumble of need deep in my gut. I felt like a pretty thing on Hamilton’s shelf. He was waiting to take me down, polish me, and throw me the fuck away.
Mom called me once to check on classes, but it was a surface-level conversation. Hamilton was slowly becoming a big part of my life, and it was hard to talk to someone who would disapprove of that. I knew it was wrong. I knew that a lot of people wouldn’t understand our relationship. This was bound to upset her new husband, but I was starting not to care.
“Miss Garner, I’d like you to summarize your response for the writing exercise I asked each of you to complete.” I had been daydreaming and twirling my hair on my finger. Dr. Bhavsar’s voice made me startle.
I cleared my throat. “Of course,” my squeaky voice chirped as I pulled out my printed paper. Dr. Bhavsar made it a habit to call on me. Despite the full auditorium, her lectures and attention made me feel like the only person in the room. Even though she was hard on me, I felt like she only did it to the students she liked, and it made me that much more prepared for class every day. “I decided to focus on a teaching from Lao Tzu, specifically his quote that states, ‘The usefulness of a pot comes from its emptiness.’”
“Interesting,” Dr. Bhavsar said with a smirk. “I had a feeling most of the class would choose the popular philosopher’s quote, ‘This too shall pass.’ I’m thrilled you picked something original, Miss Garner.”
I tried not to outwardly preen from her compliment, but the impulse was difficult. I didn’t want to admit it, but Mom just sort of expected good grades from me. She was proud, sure, but she never complimented me for working hard and giving up my adolescence in exchange for good grades and obedience. It felt nice to be recognized by this woman.
I cleared my throat before continuing. “You have to empty your mind before you can let anything else in. Lao Tzu is talking about preconceived notions or opinions. How can we listen to another person’s point of view if our head is already full of bias? Usefulness could be another word for growth or humanity’s ability to effectively adapt and learn.”
“And do you agree with this statement?” Dr. Bhavsar asked.
“I do,” I replied simply.
“I think you’re absolutely right. But we could take this a step further. Sometimes a full pot can hold us back from getting the things we truly want. It’s almost like the cliché of bringing baggage into a new relationship. Are you familiar with it?”
“I am. We bring our experiences and worldview to every new relationship we form,” I answered as Jared shifted in his seat.
Dr. Bhavsar continued. “I think there is a difference between carrying our experiences with us wherever we go and burdening ourselves with a full suitcase—or as Lao Tzu likes to say, a full pot. There’s no room for anything else. You could be missing out on new experiences because you’re too busy clinging to something else.”
Someone in the row behind me interjected. “So, are we supposed to just constantly treat each day like a clean slate? Many philosophers challenge us to use every experience in our arsenal to make meaning of the world and learn. What’s the point of filling our pot, so to speak, if we’re just going to keep emptying it for something else?”
Dr. Bhavsar smiled. “That’s a very good observation, Mr. Shine. What do you think, Miss Garner?”
I swallowed while thinking of how to answer. “The pot isn’t a metaphor for our full experience as humans. I think it doesn’t have to be complicated. I think it’s a pot’s ability to empty itself of burdens that are no longer useful or beneficial that gives it meaning. Willingness to pour out the old makes all the difference. Perhaps a better metaphor would have been a fountain or a river? Ever changing but still of the same source.”
“I’d like to fill you up,” a dumbass guy in the back row said under his breath. I rolled my eyes. Dr. Bhavsar continued.
“Well done, Vera. I personally think you could learn a lot with this lesson. You’ve been holding back a bit. I want you to really dig deep into the nitty gritty of these assignments.” Dr. Bhavsar turned to face the auditorium, now speaking to everyone. “Most of you simply discuss the concept without applying it to your own human experience. Your next assignment, I’d like for you to reference yourself when exploring these concepts. Philosophy only has meaning when we apply it.”
Class continued and I scribbled notes. Jared teased me for not having a laptop, but I liked handwriting my work. The information stuck better. The ninety-minute class flew by, and my fingers were cramping from the information overload by the end of it. “Wanna grab lunch?” Jared asked as we packed up.
“Yeah. I skipped breakfast this morning because I overslept,” I groaned.
“Were you up late having dirty conversations with your uncle again?” he asked teasingly, though there was a hard edge to his tone. I rolled my eyes and shoved my notebook into my bag. “What!” he exclaimed. “We’re friends. We can discuss it. Nothing to be ashamed of. Except for the fact that he’s technically your uncle. And like ten years older. And he’s gone half the year.”
I chewed on my lip. “You sound bitter.”
“Can you blame me? I’m just curious what he has that I don’t.”
The urge to say he had me struck me, but I kept my mouth pinned shut. “I don’t know. I thought we were over this, Jared. If you’re going to keep pressuring me, then I’m—”