CHAPTER THIRTY DEAN
CHAPTER THIRTY
DEAN
I know the conclusion for my final Econometrics paper isn't gonna write itself, but man, I need a brain break, so I’m hanging out with Claire and her friend Sabrina from the softball team at a coffee shop down the street from my place.
Staying present is a damn chore, not that it hasn’t been for the past few weeks.
My classes are winding down, my first final is still weeks away, and senioritis is threatening to bite me in the ass.
I mean, one way to stay in the US for longer would be to fail all of my classes and take another semester, but it’s a cost I don’t want to eat.
A semester’s worth of tuition would cover a lot of roundtrips between Shanghai and Detroit. There’s a direct flight, and a new direct train between Hangzhou and the airport—
Jesus, I miss Nick so much, and all the shirtless pictures he’s spamming me with aren’t enough to make up for us being apart.
Although they definitely help—sunshine looks amazing on him and those sexy fucking arms—
Claire waves a hand in front of my face, snapping me back to attention. “What’s going on? You’re spacing out again.”
I miss my boyfriend who’s been a little distant. “Sorry. Just thinking about a paper.”
She nods and sips at her coffee, returning her focus to the grad trip Sabrina is helping to plan out. Apparently, Claire’s going to an island somewhere, and Sabrina’s girlfriend is from there and has tips, but I can’t remember clearly enough.
It isn’t like I’m going.
I wonder what Nick’s doing.
Lucky guy, getting plucked out of college to live out his childhood dreams. I wanted to be an astronaut, and look where I am now: procrastinating an Econometrics paper because I’m still choosing stability.
And I didn’t even bring my laptop with me, given that I’m supposed to be taking a break.
Fuck it. All I’m gonna do is get more stressed the longer I stay here, so I push back and stand up. “This has been great, but I really need to write a paper.”
After waving goodbye and dashing out of the student commons, I brave the icy rain on the short walk back to my apartment.
A few minutes later, I’ve changed and settled into bed. I sold my desk and dining table already. I’m not trying to fight for an elusive spot in the library, so working from my bed is the best option I have, even if it makes me want to fall asleep.
Come on, focus.
I rub my temples and squint at the screen, hoping the glaring backlight imparts some energy into my overloaded brain. This is just a tiny little conclusion, I tell myself, and with a deep breath of pure reluctance, I open the document and get to typing.
And the tiny little conclusion takes me a fucking hour to write. Maybe not getting accepted to grad school was a good thing—silver linings, right?
Well, silver linings if I have any decent alternatives.
With a triumphant slam of my finger against the trackpad, I upload my hopefully decent paper and lie back, sinking into my pillow and scraping my fingers through my hair. I deserve a nap, or maybe I could go to bed now and get, like, twelve hours of sleep.
Groaning, I stretch my arm out to grab my laptop and shut it off, and I’m about to do so when I spot the red notification icon on my emails. Maybe it can wait, but for some bizarre reason, I torture myself and click it open.
Oh. It’s an “Admissions Decision” from Washtenaw. I guess they finally got around to rejecting me. My hand heavy, I click to open it.
Dailin (Dean) Shen:
Congratulations!
Hold up.
We appreciate your recent Letter of Continued Interest sent to our Applications Committee. After an extensive review of your profile and candidacy, we are pleased to offer you a place in the incoming cohort of the Smith School’s Master’s of Economics and International Business Administration—
I don’t read any more.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit!
I got in. A program with a two-percent acceptance rate fucking chose me. A little late, since their acceptance deadline was weeks ago, but it doesn't matter.
I got in, and that last-ditch letter of mine worked.
And their campus is forty minutes away from where Nick’s team is.
My hands shake. The first instinct I have is to call my boyfriend and give him the news. Hovering my finger over his icon in my contacts list, I take a breath to ground myself, before remembering he’s in Arizona. There’s a time difference. He’s in training.
A quick scroll through our text thread brings me to his schedule, and sure enough, he’s occupied with an exhibition game right now.
It isn’t like I have an imminent deadline to accept the offer, and at this point, my only real option is to accept it given that it’s both what I want and my only alternative is slaving away without pay for six months.
But my annoying thoughts are getting me to weigh all sides. Again.
Accepting my place in grad school would mean not moving home, at least for the next two years. I’ve been glum and homesick for what feels like the entirety of my college experience, so why does the thought of staying fill me with optimism?
Because of Nick.
Sighing, I shake my head. While I love the guy—
Woah, fuck.
I love Nick.
It isn’t like I could choose not to.
Then, the hope flowing through me crawls to a stop. This situation right here is as close to a mirror image of what I went through four years ago.
Two options: do what I always planned to do, or pivot to stay together with a guy.
Go to college in the US like I’d wanted to since I was five, or accept my offer in London with Greg?
Go home like what I’ve said I’d do for the last four years, or accept my offer at Washtenaw to be a lot more stable in my relationship with Nick?
Did I love Greg? Probably, as much as a seventeen-year-old could.
Shaking my head, I shove the thought out of my brain. The circumstances are so different now—I’m already somewhat established in this country, there’s nothing waiting for me back home, other than moping around the house, and there’s so much possibility here.
But the annoying voice in the back of my head insists on performing a balanced analysis.
Sheesh, I need someone to talk me through this, or talk some sense into me and tell me that staying here is objectively a good decision.
I throw my laptop to the side and get my phone, clicking it open and navigating to the group chat I have with my parents. After a short breath to steady myself, I click on the icon next to the texting box to start a video call, and Dad picks up immediately.
“I got into Washtenaw University,” I say, not waiting for greetings or anything. The two of them are sitting on the couch, half of their faces visible in the frame—it’s early Saturday morning where they are, and I’m guessing they have a rare weekend off.
“That’s great! Congratulations!” Mom replies with a smile.
Dad nods in approval. “You’re accepting, right?”
Then I pause. “I think it’s the right decision.” My voice is firm amidst the annoying doubt in my mind. “But I wanted to talk through it first.”
“What is there to talk through?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you applied for fun.”
“Right, but you both know I’ve been wanting to come home for, like, all of undergrad,” I reply. “You know how I had plans to go study in London with Greg?”
Mom takes the phone and tilts her head. “Yes. Your not-so-secret boyfriend?”
My cheeks heat as I nod. Did Mom also know about Greg?
“Right,” I manage, filing my questions away for later. “And I’m feeling like this might be a similar situation where I’m thinking about changing my plans for someone. Hence my freaking out.”
Dad purses his lips and takes his glasses off. “Look. It isn’t like we don’t want you to come home. But doing your master’s is objectively a sensible option, Nick or no Nick.”
Not that I really needed much confirmation, but getting any at all is relieving.
“Besides,” Mom adds, “we only spent two weeks with him, but it’s clear Nick cares a lot about you. And you about him.”
“You’re right.”
Smiling, Dad picks up the phone, tilting it sideways so both he and Mom fit in the frame.
“You wouldn’t be thinking so hard about this if you didn’t feel so strongly about Nick.
Yes, it might seem like you’re questioning a choice that’d bring you closer to him, but doubt is normal.
It’s what you do with it, how you think about it, and what you do that matters. ”
“It feels right. But I really want to know if it is right.”
“It’s both,” Mom says, and Dad chuckles.
“Well, maybe it isn’t just Nick that’s getting you to reconsider staying in the US,” he says. “You’ve always wanted to go to university there, and let’s face it—you don’t get nearly as much of a leg up with a foreign degree back here as you used to.”
Ouch. And they don’t even know why my job offer got downgraded.
“Okay. Thanks for listening to my rambling.” I offer a small smile. “I think I know—”
“Not so fast. Let’s reinforce it.”
I chuckle. Typical Dad.
“Do you want to be close to Nick?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any immediate prospects back here?”
“No.”
“Did you apply to grad school before you met Nick, and did you do so because it’s a program you want to study?”
“My god, yes,” I say, laughing. “I get it now.”
Mom beams back at me. “Good. Now tell Nick your plans. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
My parents and I sign off, and then I’m left alone in silence, grinning to myself and counting down the minutes until Nick gets back to his room. From a quick check of his schedule, he’s just left practice, so he’ll need time to get showered and settled.
Maybe an hour, at most?
I glance at the clock. That brings me to ten p.m., and I set an alarm to time myself—I’d spiral in anticipation otherwise. I’ve made my decision, and what’s left is to give Nick the good news.
And then my eyes drift to my finals schedule I printed out and stuck above my desk. My first exam is in two weeks.
Nick’s been in a pissy mood for a while, but I’m really hoping that lifts, and that he reacts well once I tell him my plans.
Maybe I’ll take a little trip and surprise him. If I don't have to leave him hanging before I graduate, why should I?
Smiling to myself, I pace around my apartment. This is gonna be a long, long wait.