Letting You In

Literature - /7

"So what's the big news you've been meaning to tell me?" Liz is sitting across from me. We ended up grabbing a coffee to go and soaking in the late October sun.

I hug the cup with my hands despite it being cold brew. "Is it okay if I first tell you something else?"

"Yeah sure, what's going on?" She has her arms on the table, holding her coffee just like me. Despite the light mood before, I know she's gonna listen.

I sigh. "Honestly, I don't really know. It's just a combination of things, I guess. Maybe not, I don't know. I guess I just realized that I still don't know what to do with my life. Like I wasn't sure after high school, right?"

Liz nods.

"And then with this study, it's not like you can really do anything besides teaching with literature. But you know how much I hate teaching. Also publishing, or journalism, or all those things. I hate doing research, doing all those journalism things. Like I really really can't see myself as a journalist. I know my family keeps saying that it might be something, but I don't know. And yeah, publishing, I don't know. I heard a lot lately about gaining working experience, all those things. Getting a proper job in the right place is difficult. Especially here in Boston, and I can't really picture myself elsewhere, you know? I don't know, I guess it's really just, I don't know. I guess I'm just realizing that time's almost up for me to know what I wanna do." I take some sips of coffee, watching the groups of students pass being Liz. There was a time when I didn't feel comfortable talking about things like this in public. I was always worried people might hear, until I realized nobody does. It's all just white noise to their main story.

"Alright, couple things. We just started our third year, so you still have two years left. You're not done that soon. You still have time to figure something out. And also, graduating doesn't mean you know what you wanna do. It's okay to first do one thing, then another, and then something else again. When you graduate, you're not even gonna be twenty five. If things go well, which I assume they will, you still have almost sixty years left. You have so much more time than you think."

"Yeah, but what if I don't? What if, I don't know." I wanted to take a sip, but I put the cup back down, looking up at Liz. "See, cause that's the other thing. Like I wanna stay in Boston, cause I really like it here. And I have you here, and Brandon, and I know both of you wanna stay here. But being away from my family and my friends back home, it's just getting tough right now. Like I never really struggled with homesickness, and I also wouldn't really call it that now, but it's just. I don't know. I just had the thought that in the end there is so little time left with all those people in California. I can't really visit that often should I stay and work here. And it's not like my grandparents are gonna get any better health wise. You know how bad they've been doing, so I don't know." I shrug. Up until waiting in line with Liz, I didn't realize how much the talks with Nick were getting to me. I could feel them dig deep when we talked, but I never thought about the lasting effect. Like Nick and I said, those thoughts are never meant to stay after falling asleep.

"No, I think I hear you. But really, I don't think you'll die anytime soon. Or they will, I think. I hope. Sure, they are not as healthy, but it's really not like they are gonna die tomorrow, right?" As she's taking a sip, Liz glances at me past the cup.

"No. At least I don't think so. Who knows. Couple weeks ago my dad randomly told me my grandma had a stroke a week ago from that call. It's like I don't even know what's going on with them. They might as well..." I can't finish the sentence. It's tough enough just talking about not having that many days left to spend with them. The thought that in total we probably have less than half year together, probably less, kills me already. It's not like I think they are gonna die then, but the amount of days, of hours, we will actually spend together is too little for them to pass before we can even have a week.