big conversations about labels.
As she sleeps sweetly in my lap, I want Maya to be much more than just a friend. But she’s a wallflower, she’s a butterfly right now, evolving into something which even she doesn’t understand. Now’s not the time for my personal agenda. Now’s the time to keep being what I’ve always been for her, especially now that we’ve layered our relationship with the incredible sexual connection with both know we have.
Friends don’t need labels, either. Even best friends. Right?
31
Maya
Back on campus, the sun blazes in my eyes as I walk to my first track practice of the spring time.
“I respect that you’ve been thinking deeply about your life choices. But I’ve got to stay steady on this. My answer is no.”
“But, Dad—”
“No, honey. I love you but you are absolutely, positively not going to change your major to art.”
“Hear me out, though. What if I kept my Business minor, and just changed my Art History degree to the Visual Arts?”
“Art History gives you more variety. Did I ever tell you the story of my friend Rob who got a degree in Art History, and it ended up helping him—“
“Get a degree on Wall Street. Seriously, Dad, do you think I’m going to work on Wall Street? How would an Art History and Business degree translate into that? Not like it’s Economics or something.”
“You never know. You just start with an internship, and…boom.”
“Dad, I feel like this is getting blown out of proportion.”
“You know I love you. And that’s why I’m looking out for you.” Dad’s tone stiffens. “College is for getting a useful degree, not for blowing four years to party and throwing abstract paint on a canvas.”
I come to a dead stop outside the field house. “Seriously? That’s what you think of my artistic abilities?”
“That…came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. That sounded really bad.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to get the money myself, like I was planning last year. Thanks, though. Love you, Dad.”
The last three words sound angrier than loving, but I can’t help it.
Heaving a sigh, I linger outside before I head into the locker room downstairs. It’s a beautiful day for our team’s track practice, but now all that’s tainted. My mood lowers further when I realize it’s a team I might no longer be a part of if my dad cuts me off like he says he’s going to and I can no longer afford to stay here.
I give a ring to my brother Jim who lives in San Francisco and has always been pretty damn reasonable.
“Sis! What’s happening?”
“Oh, you know. Dad cut me off from tuition today.”
“Seriously?”
“I told him I didn’t want to major in Art History and Business.”
“Wow. That’s a huge change.”
“I know. But it’s just the truth. I feel like I’m wasting money if I continue down this path.”
“So, what are you going to study?”
“I want to study the Visual Arts and practice my painting. But…the truth is, I don’t know if Greene State is the place for it.”
“That’s…huge.” I hear him exiting out of a room and into somewhere quieter. “And you think that would make you happy? That’s such a big change. What brought it on?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m either going to drop out, unless there’s some kind of miracle tuition money that appears,” I say. “But, can we please talk about something else? My head’s spinning a little bit. I just wanted to tell you that news.”
“Okay, sure. How about this? When do you think Flunk Day will be?” he asks, a welcome distraction from my grim thoughts.
Greene State U’s annual spring “Flunk Day” is the stuff of movies.
Every year for one day the administration cancels classes. The “fun” catch?
No one knows which day it’s going to be. Only a few, top secret officials are aware of the day beforehand.
Once the email goes out on the day of Flunk Day at six a.m., the campus goes into party mode…all day.
Naturally, speculation about which day Flunk Day will fall on is a favorite pastime of students during spring term.
“Eh, I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to be held off for a few more weeks.”
“Well, I was looking up the Galesburg weather for tomorrow and it’s going to be really nice there. Unseasonably warm for April. And I have a feeling.”
I grin. “Well, thanks for the prediction, Jim.”
“Oh, to be in college again. Sis, whatever decision you make, I’m sure it’ll be the right one.