Page 71 of Let It Be Me

She nods like she knew I’d say that. “I can’t tell you what to do with your life, but I can tell you what to do in the hereand now to answer that question yourself. You’re enrolled at a wealthy university, which means you have access to resources that go far beyond your classes. So get an internship, volunteer at the lab, go to networking events, ask people in the field about their jobs—you can start with our faculty directory. Read up on different food science careers, talk to your advisor, try things out. Then you’ll know what you’re good at. It’s the only way.”

“So do my own research.”

“It’s pretty much the answer to all of life’s questions, don’t you think?” She smiles.

Yeah, but where’s the magic bullet I was banking on this woman having?

“And start now.” She slides her glasses on and picks up her phone. “Seriously. I’m sending you a few links about different career paths. It’s not too late to figure this out, but I’m not going to lie and say you aren’t behind. You should have an internship and work experience under your belt by now.”

This I already knew. “Behind” is my natural state.

I thank her profusely and say goodbye, trying not to behave as pathetically as I feel. My legs are heavy as I walk down the stairs. I expected some kind of brilliant insight from Wythe, something that would light a fire in me, open up a path I didn’t even know existed. I know her advice is solid. Why would I think someone else holds the key to my personal happiness? But I don’t like it.

I call Lorenzo, longing for the soothing sound of his voice.

“Hey. What’s up?” he answers.

“Nothing. Just got out of class.”

He pauses. “What’s wrong?”

It’s then I realize I’m on the verge of crying. “I don’t know.” My voice is shaky. “I talked to Wythe like I planned. And she was so nice, but—” I choke back tears. “But I feel so stupid.”

“Why, Ruby?” His voice is low and soft. I wish he was here.

“Because everything she said was so obvious. It’s my job to figure out what to do with my life, and I’m supposed to have been working on that for years. Why am I the only person who needs to be told this?”

“You have been working on it. So you don’t do things the way the manual instructs. You’re never going to be like that.”

“What if I want to be? It’s not cute and quirky to be a fuckup at this age.”

“You’re not?—”

“That’s how I feel.”

Lorenzo sighs. “Okay. So Wythe didn’t lay out your life’s path, but she gave you advice, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So follow it. No one’s better than you at starting something new. You’re fearless.”

If only I could be everything Lorenzo sees in me.

“You want to meet up on campus?” he asks. “Let’s get coffee or something.”

All I want is to be near him, but I know what lies at the root of it: wanting to run and hide, beat myself up, and ignore Wythe’s advice in favor of letting Lorenzo patch over my broken self-esteem. But I refuse to wallow. Despair is already snowballing inside me, threatening to pull me under, and I’m not having that. I take a deep breath and let myself cling to the wordfearless. “I should go to the library and read up on the career stuff Wythe sent me.”

“Good. I’ll come over tonight, and you can tell me what else she said. Maybe I’ll even let you make me a nice baked ziti.”

Defeat still hangs heavy over me as I head for the library, but there’s a small sense of hope poking up underneath it. Lorenzo is right. Wythe’s advice is a literal to-do list, new and shiny things to try. I can get excited about that. In fact, I have to get excited about it, because suddenly the idea of settling for the easiest jobI can find sounds like a disastrous plan. A job that leaves me miserable and broke is a job that might leave me needing my parents’ help, and that’s the one thing I can’t let happen. I may have wasted three years of college, but it’s not over yet.

TWENTY-SEVEN

lorenzo

A dozendifferent versions of the same pep talk have been running through my head in the hours since Ruby called me this morning, almost in tears. I love a good pep talk, and I’ve got so many tidbits stored up in my brain from my years of playing football, but Ruby? Not so much. She’ll tune me out after a minute. She likes action.

When she opens her door that evening to find me standing there in a pinstripe suit, she blinks as her eyes move slowly from my face down to my toes. By the time she reaches my eyes again, she’s smiling. “Is that your Halloween costume?”

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