least stopped. I felt like I was in an alternate universe, one that existed in the same plane, but belonged to someone else.
“I just think I need to take a break for a while, get re-focused.”
I was sure my ears had failed me because the idea of taking a break from him was like asking a bird to fly without air. I looked down at my chipping toe nail polish, at a total loss as to what I should say. He was breaking up with me.
He walked over to me and knelt down, taking my hand in his. “This isn’t a breakup, ok? I care a lot about you. I just need to spend time in my own place, doing some guy things for a while.”
I looked up at him, tears spilling over my eyes. “Ok, if that’s what you need.” I don’t know why I didn’t fight harder, why I let him leave without begging him to come back. Maybe I always knew it was too good to be true, that I would never measure up.
I spent the next two weeks in isolation, only leaving the apartment to go to class and work. With the apartment empty every night, the temptation to throw up was more than I could withstand. Episodes had become part of my daily ritual, the one thing I looked forward to when I woke up in the morning, eager to plan my next rendezvous.
I would think about what I wanted to indulge in all day and then go to the store and get exactly what I was craving. I was especially fond of all the things I had deprived myself of over the years trying to maintain my weight. I would then get into my favorite spot on the couch, keeping a close eye of the door, of course, turn on a good movie and escape into my own little world. It was the only thing that brought me peace, and I refused to feel guilty about it when my life was in such turmoil.
The bubble I was living in worked well until the crushing reality of school popped it wide open. I sat quietly in the waiting room chair, staring at the note I got from my advisor in the mail yesterday. I had an appointment to meet with him at four o’clock, and I was dreading it, knowing full well what we were going to discuss. Thanksgiving was next week, which left only two weeks before finals, and my grades were abysmal.
“Dr. Davis will see you now, Ms. Nichols,” the receptionist said in a sweet voice. She looked like she was in her mid sixties and had probably been working in this same office since the University started. She had a kind smile, almost apologetic as if she knew what I was about to face.
I walked in the office that used to bring me such comfort. Dr. Davis had been my advisor since freshmen year, and we had always gotten along really well. It felt different in his office today, smaller, as if the walls were slowly starting to close in on me.
“Have a seat, Avery, I’m just going to pull your file.” His voice had the same calm, melodic tone it always had, but I sensed a bite in it I’d never experienced before. He sat down across from me and got right to the point. “You’re having kind of a rough semester, aren’t you?” I nodded, too embarrassed to look up at him.
“I also see that you only have one hundred hours of work study done, which is well short of where you should be right now. Anything you want to talk about?” He sat back and took off his glasses, waiting for me to respond. I simply shook my head as I unsuccessfully willed the tears to stay back.
Dr. Davis sighed and then continued on, “I don’t think there is any way you are going to average a 3.5 GPA with your current standing in Thermodynamics. Statics seems to have some hope, but a B is still the best you are going to manage. Luckily, your other two classes aren’t counted because they are electives, so you aren’t in jeopardy there. I think its safe to say that you will be on probation next semester, so you might want to consider the next step forward.”
I continued to look down at my hands, as I alternated wrapping a string around each one of my fingers.
“Avery, I need you to take this seriously.” He was getting
“I just think I need to take a break for a while, get re-focused.”
I was sure my ears had failed me because the idea of taking a break from him was like asking a bird to fly without air. I looked down at my chipping toe nail polish, at a total loss as to what I should say. He was breaking up with me.
He walked over to me and knelt down, taking my hand in his. “This isn’t a breakup, ok? I care a lot about you. I just need to spend time in my own place, doing some guy things for a while.”
I looked up at him, tears spilling over my eyes. “Ok, if that’s what you need.” I don’t know why I didn’t fight harder, why I let him leave without begging him to come back. Maybe I always knew it was too good to be true, that I would never measure up.
I spent the next two weeks in isolation, only leaving the apartment to go to class and work. With the apartment empty every night, the temptation to throw up was more than I could withstand. Episodes had become part of my daily ritual, the one thing I looked forward to when I woke up in the morning, eager to plan my next rendezvous.
I would think about what I wanted to indulge in all day and then go to the store and get exactly what I was craving. I was especially fond of all the things I had deprived myself of over the years trying to maintain my weight. I would then get into my favorite spot on the couch, keeping a close eye of the door, of course, turn on a good movie and escape into my own little world. It was the only thing that brought me peace, and I refused to feel guilty about it when my life was in such turmoil.
The bubble I was living in worked well until the crushing reality of school popped it wide open. I sat quietly in the waiting room chair, staring at the note I got from my advisor in the mail yesterday. I had an appointment to meet with him at four o’clock, and I was dreading it, knowing full well what we were going to discuss. Thanksgiving was next week, which left only two weeks before finals, and my grades were abysmal.
“Dr. Davis will see you now, Ms. Nichols,” the receptionist said in a sweet voice. She looked like she was in her mid sixties and had probably been working in this same office since the University started. She had a kind smile, almost apologetic as if she knew what I was about to face.
I walked in the office that used to bring me such comfort. Dr. Davis had been my advisor since freshmen year, and we had always gotten along really well. It felt different in his office today, smaller, as if the walls were slowly starting to close in on me.
“Have a seat, Avery, I’m just going to pull your file.” His voice had the same calm, melodic tone it always had, but I sensed a bite in it I’d never experienced before. He sat down across from me and got right to the point. “You’re having kind of a rough semester, aren’t you?” I nodded, too embarrassed to look up at him.
“I also see that you only have one hundred hours of work study done, which is well short of where you should be right now. Anything you want to talk about?” He sat back and took off his glasses, waiting for me to respond. I simply shook my head as I unsuccessfully willed the tears to stay back.
Dr. Davis sighed and then continued on, “I don’t think there is any way you are going to average a 3.5 GPA with your current standing in Thermodynamics. Statics seems to have some hope, but a B is still the best you are going to manage. Luckily, your other two classes aren’t counted because they are electives, so you aren’t in jeopardy there. I think its safe to say that you will be on probation next semester, so you might want to consider the next step forward.”
I continued to look down at my hands, as I alternated wrapping a string around each one of my fingers.
“Avery, I need you to take this seriously.” He was getting
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