Page 3 of When You Smile

She had to admit, it felt awkward to have both her parents escort her to her on-campus apartment as an incoming junior. She wasn’t eighteen and appropriately wide-eyed. Her wide eyes were late to the party, partially her own doing, which accounted for the embarrassment. Her own failure to launch was still a sore subject and a part of her history she didn’t look at too closely. The realization about where she could be right now versus where she was still shocked and shamed her. She had to find a way to set it aside, and maybe that’s what this new leaf would do for her.

“I’ll lead the way!” her mom bellowed.

“Maybe less yelling, though?”

“As you wish,” her mom whispered.

Her parents had quickly voted themselves onto the move-in committee, reorganizing her belongings after she’d already packed them, tossing in various goody boxes in case she got hungry and couldn’t figure out where food was sold, and—her personal favorite—supplying handwritten notes to be opened whenever she felt tested or low. Her parents were well intended, if not aggressive in their mission to protect her from the world. Either way, they both warmed her heart and also made her want to army-crawl under a table and hope no one noticed their attention.

But today was a noteworthy day. Embarrassment be damned. She’d swallow it down and concentrate on all that was ahead of her. Taryn was ready to spread her wings after working so hard her first few semesters in a combination of online and in-person courses. This would be the first time she lived on her own. But rather than allowing fear to overwhelm, she’d embraced the excitement and curiosity that came with this new chapter. In all honesty, it felt like she was finally hitting unpause on her frozen life. There were things she wanted to do in the coming years, relationships she hoped to build, a career she planned to prepare for. She reveled in the idea of finally being a part of something as academic and historical as Hillspoint University. “The first minute of my new existence,” she murmured, following her parents up the sidewalk.

They wheeled her mass of belongings up the ramp in front of Alexander Village, a six-story building of red brick, white trim, and six towering white columns. They’d turned it into a series of small apartments geared to upperclassmen with a qualifying GPA. The building itself had to be over sixty years old at least, partially covered in ivy and surely harboring a few echoes of the past.

“Look at my daughter’s fancy new home.” Her mother pointed at the words Honors College next to the door and ran her fingers across them reverently. Taryn had always succeeded academically but didn’t need it glorified. Especially now.

“Mom, stop. We’re all good here,” Taryn said, as a group of students moved past them in midconversation. Slightly mortifying. She prayed they hadn’t noticed the parental gushing as they pressed on. Within Alexander’s walls, she’d be living in a two-person apartment, sharing a common living room with a roommate, but with her own small room as well. Since she didn’t know a soul at Hillspoint, she’d requested to be paired up. She blinked against the wave of anxiety that nearly made her turn around and head to the car. Stay strong and ride it out. Stay strong and ride it out. Mantras tended to help give her something to hold her focus. When the fear crept in, distraction was key. Somehow in the past two years, she’d watched her confidence wane as she sat by and watched. Now it was time to dig herself out. Somehow.

And here we go. They arrived in front of a tall wooden door and knocked. When there was no answer, she shifted her weight before entering with the key she’d been provided at the front desk. The door opened to what would be her home for the academic year. Wow. Big moment. She was standing in a small living room that felt larger than it should, due to the high ceiling, with a couch and a chair.

“Now this is nice, Tare,” her father said, taking an admiring stroll. “This is really great. You’re gonna like this, Bear.” A nickname from her newborn years she hadn’t managed to shake.

“Yeah, pretty cool,” Taryn said, holding still and taking in the details of the room, wanting to memorize everything. Hers. At least for the year. Green curtains and smoky-white and gray carpet. Definitely some wear showing, but she didn’t care in the slightest. A bolt of exhilaration hit because this was really all happening. Even the couch was identical to the one in the brochure, complete with the same beige and darker beige striped throw pillows. She loved it already.

“The fridge is so spacious,” her mother crowed, examining the interior of the small refrigerator nestled in the corner. “It has a pullout shelf for the milk. You just pull, look, then—milk. Voilà.”

Taryn laughed. “Genius. A moving milk shelf.” That’s when she heard movement coming from behind an open door on the right side of the living room. Her roommate must have already arrived. “I think she’s here,” Taryn said quietly. Had she heard their fascination with the mobile milk shelf? God. Her parents looked at each other in delight, giddy and wide-eyed. This was such a big day for them, so she tried to be patient. She knocked quietly on the connecting door. “Hey,” she said to absolutely no answer. She rolled her lips in, shifted her weight, and banished the stress that arrived on schedule.

No answer.

She paused, unsure what to do. More noise. Finally, she eased the door open the tiniest bit to see a brunette wearing large headphones and standing on her head against the wall. New. Couldn’t say she’d encountered that one before. Taryn stepped halfway into the room. “Hi. Excuse me. So sorry to intrude, um, on the headstand.” She added a back-and-forth wave. The motion seemed to do the trick, and the girl’s brown eyes snapped into focus. “Hi. I’m Tar—”

“Oh shit.” The girl cascaded her feet forward one at a time and righted herself like a proper acrobat. “You’re here.” The headphones hit the floor with a bang. The girl didn’t care. “And I’m hanging upside down like a bat. Great first visual, Caz.”

“Nah, I don’t mind.” Taryn gestured to the wall. “But can I ask about the headstand?”

“Centers me. I’m a weirdo who wears cat ears and stands upside down while listening to some relaxation podcast, but I promise it’s bullshit. The harmless kind. I’m Caz Lee. Did I say that other than to myself?”

“I picked up on it. I’m Taryn Ross. We’re roommates.”

“Super cool. I got your name in the email. This is my third year at Hillspoint, though I have a few hours before official junior status. I like a light load.”

“I get it. I tend to take too many hours. From Indiana?” Her heart was beating way too fast, but she was doing just fine. The smile was real. Keep going.

“Originally from this town an hour from Tokyo, but I’ve been in the States since I was four.”

Taryn was impressed, having not traveled much herself just yet. One day she hoped to grab a backpack, some good shoes, and see it all. If she could just conquer this one small task of college first. “Oh wow.”

Caz tilted her head. “You must be a transfer. I’ve never seen you, and I would definitely remember. That’s a compliment. I like to signpost.”

“Thank you. For both. And, yeah, I’m transferring from Belmont Community, which is just outside Dyer.”

“And do they go with you?” She gestured with her chin to the doorway where Taryn’s parents stood gaping with glee, clutching each other like she’d just won Miss America.

Taryn rocked on her heels and slid her hands into her pockets. “Those enraptured people are my parents, just dying to meet you.”

They took their cue. Her mother stepped forward, dripping with mildly controlled enthusiasm. “What do you study, Caz? I’m Martie Ross, and this is Ted. We’re from Dyer, a few hours away.”

“Pleased make your acquaintance. Stoked, actually.” Caz touched the back of her dark hair, currently in two low-sitting ponytails. “The question you asked is complicated. My dad wants me to stick with academia so I can grow up and be a school principal like he is, but I’m more of a creative free spirit.”

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