Because something had begun.
There is a difference.
The following January, I enrolled in two evening courses at a state university thirty minutes from home.
Not the college from the old letter.
Not the exact future I had imagined at twenty-two.
A new one.
Ethan helped me choose classes until I banned him from the process after he suggested I add statistics “for balance.”
“I am thirty-two years old,” I told him.
“That is unrelated to statistical literacy.”
“You are banned.”
“Authoritarian.”
“Go do your homework.”
“I finished it.”
“Then go invent homework.”
He did.
My first night of class, I stood in front of the mirror for fifteen minutes.
I changed shirts twice.
Then three times.
Ethan leaned against the bathroom doorway.
“You’re nervous.”
“I am not.”
“You’ve checked your bag four times.”
“I like preparedness.”
“You forgot a pen.”
I stared at him.
He held one out.
