The Uncanny Accuracy of Fate

Epilogue

"Where do you want me to put these?" Jasmine's voice pipes up from behind a teetering stack of boxes, and I quickly rush over and grab the one on the top before the whole pile collapses.

"Wherever," I gesture aimlessly around the tiny room. "It's not like you have too many options." Jasmine shrugs, sets the boxes down, and comes over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders from behind me.

"I can't believe you're in college. No, I must be imagining this. You're too young. Not gonna happen."

"Okay, we'll have time for sappy stuff later. I promise." I laugh, gently shrugging off her arms. "Where's Pippa?"

"I'm here! And this-" She throws a pillow at me, then puts a lamp on the floor, "is the last of it." Looking around the dorm room, I can't help but chuckle at the sheer volume of boxes crammed in each corner.

"You guys realize I'm sending some of this back with you, right? You forgot to calculate enough room for me to turn around." They grin at me sheepishly, and I sigh, glad that my application for a single dorm came through, otherwise I'd have to deal with a very frustrated roommate.

"I'm gonna go check out the bathroom scenario, I'll leave you two to fight this one out." Jasmine blows us a kiss then disappears down the hall, leaving Pippa looking out the window.

"It's not a bad view, not as good as yours at home, but..." She trails off, then gasps. "Oh! I have something for you!"

"Pippa, you don't have to," but she's already digging through the box closest to her. I know whatever she gives me will be incredibly kind and thoughtful, but that's what I'm worried about. This past week, people have been showing up at our door nonstop, bringing dorm decorations, handwritten notes, and in Lin's case, an ipod loaded with playlists for every possible scenario or mood.

"Use the party one. The teens are gonna love it," he'd assured me.

It wasn't that I minded them giving me gifts. Living with Pippa had finally gotten me used to their constant doting. It was more that my tendency towards being overly emotional meant that every time someone had dropped by, the interaction morphed into a 20 minute crying/reliving-every-interaction-we'd-ever-had fest.

"If this makes me cry, I swear." She ignores me, grunting as she rips the tape off the top of a box, and crowing with glee when she finds what she's been looking for. As she hands the gift to me, I can see that it's a giant picture frame, filled with 12 or 13 photos.

The first one is a group photo of Pippa, Morgan, and the group of us from the masterclass, almost 2 years ago. Looking at the picture, I barely recognize myself. I'm painfully skinny, and I can see the sadness behind my eyes as I think back on my years in the system.

Pulling myself away from that painful memory, I notice the next picture is of Pippa and I on the couch in her dressing room holding mugs of tea, which I recognize as being from around the time I opened up to her about the abuse I was dealing with. Looking back, I still have no idea why Pippa wanted to take me in. I was nothing but an anxious and scared teenager, unlovable in my own eyes.

"Hey." I'm jolted out of my trip down memory lane by Pippa putting her arm around me. "I can hear you thinking all the way across the room."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be." She points at a photo of the two of us hugging outside the Richard Rogers. "I love this one."

I instantly identify the photo. Taken July 9th, it was the day of Pippa's last Hamilton show. That morning, I'd woken up to her crying in the kitchen, and as I'd comforted her, I remember the pride that had washed over me. I could be the strong one, and guide Pip through this like she'd supported me through too many teary nights to count.