Page 155 of Learning Curve

“I love you,” he whispers into my ear, and I don’t hesitate to respond.

“I love you too.”

We fall asleep like that. Finn’s body wrapped around mine.

And for once, my heart and mind agree.

It’s taken us forever to get here, but it’s an amazing feeling to know that nothing could ever be big enough or wrong enough to make us leave.

We’ve already been through it all, and, together, we’ve come out the other side—this is love.

Friday July 25th

Scottie

“I have great news,” Ms. Bartlett, my counselor here at Dickson, updates as she leans across her desk to hand me a paper. “Your schedule has been updated.”

“How many of my classes did you manage to switch?” I question, glancing down at the sheet of paper with a cup half full of hope. I know Ms. Bartlett will try, but with the semester starting soon and open enrollment happening nearly a week ago, I don’t expect her to be able to perform magic.

Studying the paper more closely when Ms. Bartlett doesn’t say anything, I run quickly through the dream schedule, double-check twice that all the psych classes I needed are on there, and then gape. “Wait…you got me in all of the classes?”

“All of them.” She smiles, and she’s not the only one. If my face were a spaceship, it’d be picking up humans at an astonishing rate.

“You’re a miracle worker!”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Scottie.” Ms. Bartlett grins and blows imaginary dust off her fingernails before subsequently polishing them on her shoulders.

“And—” A soft knock on her office door grabs our attention, interrupting her.

A scruffy curled head pokes in and locks eyes with her, and she gives me an apologetic smile. “Give me a second, Scottie?”

“Of course,” I say with a nod as she steps out of her office to talk to her colleague.

Silence and solitude seep in around me, and I pick at my cuticles as thoughts of excitement and anticipation for my new career path swirl through my mind.

A career path inspired by Molly and me and Luke—another teenager from St. Luke’s Inpatient Rehabilitation who was diagnosed with retinal detachment syndrome and is mentally and emotionally struggling with his new reality after a failed surgery attempt on his right eye. A career path inspired by the millions of young adults like us, dealing with unforeseen circumstances or unfair hands and doing their best to navigate in a world that wasn’t designed for them. A career path born of one pivotal conversation I can still remember word for word, weeks later.

“You know, Luke, maybe being blind won’t be so bad?” Molly had chimed in. “You’re really cute, and I bet there will be a lot of girls who will want to help you out, you know.” She waggled her brows and giggled, and Luke burst out in laughter.

“You think being blind will get me girls, Molly?”

“Probably.” Molly giggled more. “And maybe I don’t have to stop running track because I lost my leg. Maybe I can get one of those cool legs and run in the Paralympics.”

“That’d be so cool, Molls,” I said, and Luke agreed.

“That’s definitely something I want to be there for in person,” he said. “But you’ll have to save me extra tickets, though, because I’ll need a bunch of seats for all my new girlfriends.”

Luke’s doctors have given him a dismal prognosis in regards to his vision, and they’ve estimated that, in a few years’ time, it's likely he will go blind in both eyes. Molly is still dealing with adjusting to her amputation, but she’s also experiencing a significant amount of phantom limb pain. Per Molly, it sucks big time. And I’m not sure what the future holds for me. I may or may not walk again, and I can’t put my life on hold in hopes of a miracle.

But the three of us are a mere drop in the bucket of people like us, and there’s a space for me to help provide light at the end of many a dark tunnel.

We need space to vent our frustrations and the tools to fix the things we can. And we need someone advocating for that outside of ourselves and our families, during the most vulnerable time in our lives.

As Luke and Molly spoke and I listened, I realized that the someone advocating for the bucket of people like them and me could be…me.

After I left the hospital that day, I sent Elizabeth—aka Ms. Bartlett—an email. Ever since then, she’s been helping me get my course load updated to reflect my new major—a bachelor’s in Developmental Psychology that will hopefully lead to a masters of science in Child and Adolescent Developmental Psychology.

My end goal is to be a therapist who specializes in counseling and being a supportive resource for children with disabilities. Especially, children and adolescents who are faced with tragic, life-changing situations like Molly and Luke and me. I want to help advocate for them. Help them and their parents deal with the numerous difficult emotions you face. Help them find their path to acceptance, and more than that, their path to not just surviving but thriving.

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