The dorms are nicer than any apartment I could afford, though super fucking old. They’re nothing like a normal dorm, not that I’ve attended any other college to know for sure, but I can’t imagine that many others are soaged.
Like the rest of the school, the air in the dormitories is thick and stagnant.Cold. Stone walls, stone floors, stone fucking everything, and it’s all poorly lit and creepy as shit.
I don’t have a roommate because I ended up in the dorm no one else wanted—the one everyone is convinced is haunted by its former resident. Usually, students can’t pick their own dorm rooms, but after several people who were assigned this room complained about strange occurrences and requested to switch, I volunteered to take it. I figured that even if it had a spooky reputation, at least I’d have a place to myself.
The only thing scary I’ve noticed is the black mold growing around the bottom of the walls in the unexplainablyalwaysdamp corners.
That… and yesterday when I felt like someone was watching me in the community showers. But there was no evidence of that, so I chalked it up to my recent anxiety-induced paranoia.Thanks, Dad.
I’m overall happy with my living situation, with one exception: I can’t have Kronk here because pets aren’t allowed.
I’ve been lucky that every family I’ve worked for has been kind enough to allow him a space in their homes. It’s an unconventional, complicated accommodation, but one they’ve each been happy to oblige out of their desperation for hard-to-come-by in-home childcare. He’s still with me most of the time because I’m either in their homes with their kids or taking him out for doggie adventures. He mostly just sleeps there, but I’d give almost anything to snuggle up next to him at night too.
If we can make it to the end of the next term, that dream will be a reality. Once graduation comes, I'll be truly free to provide for myself and my furball and start a new chapter away from the shadow of my parents.
There was a time when my parents gave a shit about me before they decided parenting wasn’t for them, presumably in the newborn phase of my life being that I spent the first several years after that with various nannies I don’t remember—until the day my dad got fucked up on coke and thought it would be a great time to bond with his daughter. A cop pulled him over for erratic driving. I was taken away there on the spot and would have likely been given right back to him if my aunt hadn’t stepped in and finally convinced them I would be better off with her. I will never stop being thankful that she chose me when no one else would.
My dad faced no repercussions after that initial slap on the wrist. It’s amazing what can be swept under the rug when you’re in The Assembly. They don’t hold their members to any higher standard in that regard, and even the cops in this town are under their thumb, turning a blind eye to the illicit activities that run rampant. It’s commonplace; casually buying, selling, and running expensive drugs. What’s low-class when you’re poor becomes high-class when you’re wealthy, and the Assembly’s grip on this town only reinforces that divide. It’s just one more reason I loathe every single one of them.
At some point early on, he set up an irrevocable trust I’d receive once I graduated college. I could get it sooner in other ways, but this is the closest life event. Once I’ve graduated from the undergraduate program, the money will be mine and I won’t have to worry about figuring out my living situation going into my Master’s years.
He’s always held it over my head even though I couldn’t have given a shit less. I have never felt obligated to him in the way hewanted me to. It’s the least he could have done after leaving it to his sister to provide for me for a large portion of my childhood.
An October breeze greets me as I step outside the doors of my building. The clouds are swollen and dark. They hang low in the sky, casting a duskiness over the campus and blocking out the midday sun. I breathe in the autumn air, closing the heavy wooden door behind me.
I put off texting Jack all yesterday evening. After I finally managed to coax Kronk into his kennel for the night, my mind was solely focused on retreating into the comfort of my cozy little cave after a long, exhausting day.
I probably should have been the one to text first since it was my idea and I am the one who owes him lunch, but I fell asleep before I remembered and woke up this morning with a single text from him:Emely’s at noon.
I texted back:Bossy.
He didn’t reply after that.
Even though he didn’t answer, I decided to show up anyway. Worst case, I’d have lunch alone and save the cash I would have spent on his.
I walk the tree-lined path down the slope that leads into town. The leaves crunch beneath my feet with each step, releasing the earthy scent of fall.
Emely’s is a cute café at the bottom of the incline my dorm is seated atop, and just across the quiet street. The university buildings look so much larger at street level. They tower over everything, often making me feel smaller and more insignificant than I already do without their assistance.
I push open the door and the smell of roasting coffee wraps around me as I step inside. Scanning the room, I don’t see Jack yet so I join the line at the counter to order an iced espresso while I wait.
I settle onto a wooden barstool at a corner table, my back pressed against the wall for a clear view of the entrance.
I spend the passing minutes scrolling on my phone and reading over my assignment for the fifty bajillionth time since yesterday, trying to figure out exactly what it is that I need tofixsince Professor Jackass gave me approximately zero feedback. Just as the barista calls my name, the door opens and Jack walks in. His brown hair is a mess and he looks like he just rolled out of bed before coming, which is highly probable because there’s a baby only a few months older than Maggie strapped to his chest. He yawns and a tiny hand reaches up to forcefully shove all five fingers into his open mouth. He jerks back from the sudden intrusion, then his eyes soften as he gently guides the baby’s tiny fingers to wrap around his own, planting a gentle kiss on their delicate skin.
Our eyes meet, and a smile forms on his lips, still pressed against the back of the baby’s hand.
My stomach does the thing.
I momentarily wonder if he’s broke as fuck living off ramen and expired red bull, nannying his way through his bachelor’s degree too. It can’t be that uncommon of an occurrence. Then I realize we are both whole-ass adults, perfectly capable of having children of our own. Which is scary to me personally because most of the time I feel like a twenty-two-year-old teenager.
I grab my coffee from the counter on my way to greet him. It occurs to me then that this man might be married, and I should not be looking at him like a field scientist lost somewhere in the desert thirsting after a mirage of an oasis.
Even with—maybe even especially with—a baby attached to him and baby vom crusted on his shirt sleeve, I think I am developing a crush.
I take a long drink, attempting to drown all the nerves that have decided to join this party.
I force myself to relax, plastering a warm smile on my face and moon eyes that I aim at the baby. “Who’s this little cutie?”
