Chapter 29 #2
Arguably, it’s worse. After sitting with the thought of being happy for myself, and chasing success because I want it, seeing it slip away so quickly rips me apart. The meaning behind this grade changed. For the first time, this accomplishment was supposed to be for me.
I’m trying my hardest not to hyperventilate. I should focus on breathing steadily, but I can’t while rummaging for a sign that the work wasn’t for nothing.
“What’s wrong? Do you need me to come there? I’ll leave right now.”
“Wait!” Rosie answers quickly. “Okay, so, Liliana might have lost her USB with her final on it.”
“The short story?!”
“Yes. She can’t find it.”
There’s only one more drawer to check, and anxious tears are rapidly descending onto the carpet.
I can hear Grant’s soft voice dripping in worry. “Lily?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the one you tossed at me, right?”
I halt. Turn back to Rosie on my bed and grab the phone out of her hand.
“Oh my gosh you’re right. I had a vague memory of having it at your place, but that’s it. That’s the last time I saw it.” I start to breathe again. I know where it is, so I can grab it from him, and it’ll be fine. “Do you think I can go over to look?”
I expect him to happily invite me over, but he sighs from the other side of the phone. Rosie’s brows stitch together, and my breathing becomes irregular again.
“I’m so sorry, baby. But I cleaned the entire apartment yesterday. It’s not there.”
Hope dies as quickly as it came. My ears are ringing. “How can it not be there? I don’t have it.”
Rosie gently takes the phone away from me and holds it between us. It’s the first time I notice how much I’m shaking.
“Where did it go after you tossed it?”
I press my palms into my eyes, and the tears trace down the sides of my wrists.
“We were in the living room. I threw it. I don’t remember anything else.”
Grant speaks, “Do you remember it hitting the table? Or the floor?”
“Nothing.”
He sighs, and if I weren’t already hopeless, the sound would’ve sent me spiraling. “I think you might have, by some crazy chance, thrown it into the gift bag I made for Clementine.”
I glance at the phone. I remember the bag being on the table. There was no sound of plastic knocking on wood, or onto the floor. His gift bag theory is possible. Ridiculous, but possible.
But I don’t want to lean into this light at the end of the tunnel without confirmation.
“You might be right. Can you check?”
He’s staticky through the speaker, but his pity still comes through. “I’m sorry, baby. I gave it to Clem as a road trip gift this morning. With the timing…” He sighs. “They should’ve just gotten to Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, fuck.” Rosie echoes my thoughts. The pessimistic part of my brain wishes Grant hadn’t told me where it is in the first place.
“I’m so screwed. I can’t believe it. This is all my fault.”
“It’s not. I should have checked the bag.”
“I shouldn’t have thrown it at you.”
“You’re not fully responsible.” But I am. Every decision up until this point has been mine. I lead myself here.
Despite how dejected I and the situation has become, his voice perks up. “I can fix it.”
“No you can’t, Grant. You’re the only reason I finished it in the first place. You’ve already done enough.”
“I’m serious. I think I can do this.” There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone, a faint second voice, and my eyebrow raises. I assumed he was at his apartment but it sounds otherwise. “I’ll call Heath and figure something out.”
There’s no point. Usually, I’m desperate to solve my problems and fight for solutions, but this is the final straw to send me over the edge.
The situation is helpless, and I’m already accepting that this semester is over.
Even the comfort knowing my parents won’t hate me for this isn’t enough to mask how disappointed I am with myself.
“I have to turn it in tomorrow morning. It’s impossible.”
There’s more shuffling from the other side of the phone. More tears drip off my chin and puddle on my bedroom floor when Grant cuts through.
“Never doubt the things I would do for you, Lily.”
I replay his words as I lay across the cushions of our couch.
The scratchy chenille is nothing like the plush cushions I find myself lost on at Grant’s place, but I settle into them.
Rosie let me cry for an hour, ordered some food that doesn’t taste as good as usual, and patted my head when I told her I’m officially a failure.
That was a few hours ago. I check my phone for what feels like the millionth time, but there’s no sign of Grant or this miracle he claims he can make happen.
I sigh. Rosie emerges from her bedroom, messy hair redone into a clean ponytail. I told her to focus on her own studies and leave me to my pity party. Just because I’m going to fail, doesn’t mean she should, too.
Her body creates a shadow over me when she stands next to the couch, arms crossed and nose downturned.
“It’s been three hours. What have you been doing?”
“Waiting.” What else would I be doing?
“For what?”
I squint at her, confused. The answer is obvious. It’s the only one I have. “Grant.”
Her scoff causes me to sit up. My vision blurs for a second, lightheaded from the sudden change in position, but when it straightens, I see the disappointed look in her eyes.
“You had your moment to sit with your feelings. You’re allowed to have that. But it’s the night before your final is due, and you’re going to lay on this couch and wait for your boyfriend to fix your problems?”
“Well, yeah.” I sink deeper into the cushions, retreating from her. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Lil. Really?” She nudges me with her foot, like I should know what she’s trying to say. I don’t. I nudge her back. “I’m not going to spell it out for you.”
“Spell out what?”
She shakes her head, walking backwards. Instinctively, I want to reach out for her, because Rosie has never looked at me like this before. “This isn’t the first final where Grant played a part in your make or break.”
I stand, stumble, and catch myself on the arm rest.
“Are you saying he’s going to leave me hanging again? He would never do that.”
“No.” She’s walking backward towards the hallway. “I’m pointing out parallels. You can do the rest. When the kickass, independent, do-it-all Liliana I call my best friend bounces back, let me know.”
Rosie doesn’t say anything else, twists her body, and disappears into the hallway before shutting her bedroom door.
I slump back into the couch and analyze her words. Despite the fact that she’s right, and this isn’t the first time my final is resting in Grant’s hands, I didn’t think of our undergrad class at all.
The memory is clear. The helplessness when I realized Grant wouldn’t come. The acceptance that I’d have to do it all myself. If this is the parallel Rosie wants me to connect to, it’s working. The emotions are eerily similar to what I’m feeling now.
My teeth start chipping at my nail polish the further I think about it.
Grant didn’t show. I did the presentation anyways, regardless of how messy it was.
I went to my professor afterwards and fought for myself and my grade.
There was no question if I deserved to pass.
I did the work and pled my case for what I earned.
The baby blue color is coming off my nail completely. The parallels stop there. Last time this happened, I fought, and managed it in the end. Without relying on Grant’s help or anyone else’s.
It dawns on me how far I’ve fallen. Not once have I ever given up on my own worth, and even worse, I’ve never let the determining factor of my success come down to someone else. I wanted this grade so bad, I was willing to give anything for it. Including pieces of myself and my independence.
That isn’t the woman my parents raised. This isn’t me.
I stand up again, but without fumbling. Leaning into Grant to support me was the easy solution.
I’m grateful he got me out of my slump and taught me so much about myself, but I’ve relied on him too heavily.
This short story—that is supposed to be my first personal success—is laced with influences of him and none of my own.
The responsibility of finishing this assignment shouldn’t fall to him, either.
This is supposed to be for me.
I nod to myself, stomp to the desk I’ve left messy and chaotic, and make space for my laptop. It’s not the end until I say it is.