“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Dr. Banfield gets up from her desk. She’s an older woman with her eyes set on retirement. All her employees love her. “I honestly assumed you’d get in. You’re so smart and such a hard worker.”
“I did get in,” I squeak out.
Dr. Banfield raises an eyebrow. “So are those tears of joy?”
My head falls and emotions take over, turning me into The Incredibly Pregnant Hulk. “I got in but can’t go because I got drunk and slept with my brother’s best friend and got pregnant and now he’s gone and I’ll be alone forever.” I have no control over myself at that point. I break down in tears.
Dr. Banfield is a wise, older woman, but she’s not emotional by any means. Reserved at all times, she awkwardly hugs me then calls Julia into the office.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Julia asks, wrapping me in an embrace. I hiccup and sniff back my tears.
“I got into vet school and can’t go because of Ella,” I say through tears.
“Oh, honey.” Julia gives me another hug, then the three of us sit around Dr. Banfield’s desk. Julia gives me a tissue.
“I went to school during a completely different time,” Dr. Banfield starts, trying to console me. “But there were parents in there with me. It’s possible.”
“Thanks,” I say and wipe my eyes.Parentsare different. Parents are plural.
“What about Noah? Can’t he help?” Julia asks and suddenly I’m embarrassed. No, Noah can’t help because he’s not ready to be a dad, nor does he want to be. He made it quite clear when he missed our baby shower.
“Maybe,” I mumble. “Purdue is hours away. I just don’t see how it’ll work.”
“There’s always next year,” Julia offers. “You got in once, you could get in again.”
I nod. “I could.”
“And don’t rule out other schools,” Dr. Banfield adds. “You know I’m a fan of MSU.” She points to her degree on the wall. “And that’s a lot closer.”
I nod again. Talking it out makes things seem so easy. My heart needs to believe it is that easy, because it can’t take any more pain. It’s beating for two right now. I have to protect it.
But it’s not that easy. Ella will be older, but I’ll still have to find a way to pay for daycare and then find someone to help me in the evenings so I could study and do homework. Paying for daycare on my salary right now is damn near impossible; there is no way I could pay for daycareandschool. Oh, and still squeeze in time to work. Because I’ll have to pay for shit somehow.
I smile, tell my boss and my friend thank you regardless. Nobody likes a wallower, so I’ll wallow in sorrow at home by myself. Because there really is no way for me to go to vet school.
I’ve been told that the best laid plans sometimes fail, but I think it goes farther than that. The more you plan, the more you try to get things just right, the more off course you go. And then the clear path you were counting on disappears beneath your feet and suddenly you’re alone in the forest, unable to see a way out.
* * *
I get home from work Tuesday exhausted, sore, and sad. The temperature has dropped, and gray clouds have moved across the October sky. Not feeling like making dinner, I get a bowl of ice cream, a big glass of lemonade, and plop on the couch, crying as I eat.
I miss Noah. I want him back. I want Ella to grow up with her father, and I want her father to begood.You can’t have your cake and eat it too, right?
Life doesn’t work that way.
Instead of watching one of my cherished Disney movies, I search Netflix for something more violent. Because right now I’m feeling like the fairytale endings are even more unrealistic than wild animals cleaning the house.
My phone rings, and my heart jumps. Noah has called more than once, and I’ve watched his calls go to voicemail each time. I’m not strong enough to talk to him, not yet. If I hear his voice I’ll cave. And I can’t. I have to be strong for Ella.
“Hello,” I say to my mother, more disappointed than relieved it wasn’t Noah calling.
“Hey, honey. I didn’t hear from you yesterday. How are you feeling?”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell my mom everything. She’ll come over and I’ll have a good cry session, and when she’s leaves I’ll feel better, even if it’s just for the night. “I’m fine,” I lie before I have time to think about it. Maybe I’m not ready to face the fact that Noah really isn’t coming back into my life the way I want him to. Saying it out loud makes it more real. “Just tired from work.”
“Have you thought about cutting down on your hours yet?”
“Uh…” Yeah. I had. And was going to, back when I thought I could count on Noah for financial support. I’m sure glad I dodged that bullet, even though it feels like it hit me. Right in the heart. “Yeah, I will soon. Everyone at work babies me.” I consider telling her about vet school too, but chose not to solely because I’m too tired to bring up those emotions. Again.