She drove me two hours south to get here. Unspeakable gratitude expands my chest. I know it’s her job, but Jake cares. She takes an interest in my future when she could pass me off to someone else.
I don’t get out of the car.
“You’ll be fine,” she says. “Go on. Your student mentor will meet you in the library.”
I gulp and gaze out the window. “Which one’s the library again?”
“You’ll find it,” she says. Then, “You can do this. Don’t be afraid to ask for directions.”
I know she knows where the library is, but she’s making me find it, helping me prepare for when I’m inevitably on my own. “Why am I doing this? I can’t afford—”
“No buts. You’re here. You can worry about the financial part later. How are the meds?”
“Good,” I say, and I mean it. “I think we found a regimen that works.”
“Yess!” Jake punches the air, and I almost forget she’s my therapist instead of my friend. “Glad to hear you’ve found your normal. Now go. No more excuses.”
I finally get out of the car and step into the midsummer sunshine.
I’m turned around within ten minutes. I’m allowed to use my cell phone for the day so we can stay in touch. I check the time. I’m a little early and I make a beeline for the coffee cart. Caffeine fix plus directions equals my first win of the day.
A line has formed so I dig through my bag and pull out the twenty Jake gave me for food. My tote is heavier than it should be. The last-minute decision to bring my bulky and half-filled leather-bound journal, along with my sea glass bottle, is one I’m starting to regret. My shoulder aches and I still have to carry this thing around the remainder of the day. At least I have a cookie for later. The napkin Mary included bears one word written in her messy hand.
breathe.
It’s identical to her tattoo and I make a note to tell Mary she needs to start her own brand. The word is a logo, a tagline, and a mission statement all in one.
Mary has officially nailed down my nutrition plan but manages to fit cookies and brownies into everyone’s diet no matter what restrictions they have. This double-chunk-chocolate goodness happens to be gluten-free. Tossing the ingredient has helped my nightmares. Who knew a change in diet could also usher a better night’s sleep?
When it’s my turn at the register, I ask for an extra-foam cappuccino and pay. I leave a tip in the jar, relishing the feeling it brings to purchase my own drink even if Jake technically paid the bill.
Maybe I can do this.
My phone says I have less than five minutes to find the library. I ask the barista for directions, and she points me toward a wide white building that belongs in a museum—either that or it is a museum.
“Thanks,” I say and sip at my drink.
She smiles and I head to the museum-slash-library.
Inside, my steps echo and I am pretty sure I’m not supposed to have a drink in here. Out of nervous habit I touch my wrist. But my bracelet isn’t there. My heart soars. I pause and picture Hope, wearing the pearls I gave her for her birthday. She moved home last week and my heart broke. Soon I’ll leave Fathoms too.
You’re brave, Hope. We both are.
I promise to tell her over the phone as soon as this day is over.
I find no one who appears to be waiting for me so I step outside the library door. My coffee’s still hot and I almost spill it when my phone vibrates in my bag. I’m about to peek at the screen when a girl wearing an outfit made for the runway jogs up the steps. In heels.
She passes me, then does a double take. “Brooke?”
“Nikole?”
“Nikki.” Her genuine grin eases my jitters. “Sorry I’m late. I’m taking some summer electives and my human studies prof ran over time.”
I beam at the way she says “prof.” Because it’s way too cool and I don’t think I could pull it off.
Also, why is she so familiar?
She seems to think as much about me because at the same time I ask, “Have we met?” she ventures, “Do I know you?”
We laugh in sync and then she says “jinx” like we’re in elementary school.
“Technically,” I tease, “we didn’t say the same thing, just at the same time, so jinx doesn’t count.”
“You’re going to fit right in with the English majors, girl.” She winks and leads me inside. “Welcome to UC Berkeley.”
I thought the library was my favorite part of the tour until Nikki shows me the famous clock tower—the Campanile.
She flashes her student ID at the man behind the front desk, then points to me. “Potential students are free too, right, Henry?” She winks and he blushes.
“You know it,” he says in an accent I can’t place. “Go right on up, ladies.”
“Thanks.” I picture myself in Nikki’s shoes next year. Anticipation stirs and hope wells to bursting. This is the first campus I’ve seen and I’m sold.
We take the elevator, followed by a short flight of stairs. When we reach the top I’m speechless.
“Isn’t this stunning?” Nikki steps aside, allowing me a full view.
I step forward and peer through the bars at the city and campus below. The huge buildings don’t look so grand from up here, and the Golden Gate Bridge might as well be dollhouse furniture. My confidence builds. Where anxiety would normally surface, I only meet a sense of calm and accomplishment. Like I could tackle anything and I don’t know why I ever believed otherwise.
I can totally do this.
“So, you’ve seen most everything,” Nikki says. “What’s the verdict?”
“It’s . . . big.”
“You’ll definitely get your steps in here.”
I nod.
“So seriously, I can’t stop thinking we’ve met before,” she says.
“I know. It’s been bothering me all day.”
“Did you grow up in the Bay Area?”
“No, I’m actually from the East Coast.”
“Oh, what brought you to Cali?”
I haven’t talked about this. Not even with Jake. I’ve written it. But saying the words unplanned, unhindered, and unedited is different. “I moved here when I turned sixteen,” I say slowly. Maybe that will be enough. Maybe she won’t ask for more.
She does. “Family stuff?”
“No. Sort of. Just me and my grandma—Mee-Maw.”
“How funny. That’s what I called my grandma too.”
It’s a small thing. A tiny thing. But sharing this with her feels like the seedling of friendship. I’ve ruined so many relationships in the past. Broken so many bonds. Maybe this is my chance to start something that can last. While my instinct says to shrink inside my shell and offer only what she asks, I know that can’t last forever. I told Jake I wanted to grow. To start over.
No going back now.
“Is your grandma here in California?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “She passed away when I was five, but Gramps is still here. I’m pretty sure he’s going to outlive me at this point. He’s a tough one. What about your grandfather?”
“I never knew him. Only Mee-Maw.”
“And your parents?”
And here is where it gets real. My pulse picks up and I close my eyes. “My mom died and my dad—” I swallow, recalling the last time I heard his voice, feeling the disappointment in his gaze. “My dad and I had different ideas about what my future held.”
“Any siblings?”