Page 2 of Safety Net
I shrugged, my gaze straying to the photos on his desk. Jonah was a cat dad. “I’ll figure something out. Hey, you know, I heard cat people are especially empathetic because of their constant exposure to rejection. What’s your take?”
His jaw ticked. “Irrelevant. Let’s visualize life after college. After hockey.”
Jonah tipped the cat photo over with a slight nudge of his pen when he realized I was still staring. “What does that look like?”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, trying to put in some real effort. But as soon as my imaginary world came into focus, I was face-to-face with a blank canvas. The world around me hollowed out as everyone moved on, while I stood in place.
Breathing became a feat. I could barely hear my thoughts over my pounding heart. My eyes shot open. Jonah’s frown deepened at my jerk back into the present.
I cleared my throat and readjusted my collar. “Maybe I’ll move back home for a bit.”
I needed to pace. Jonah didn’t like when I did that, so I remained glued to my seat. “Maybe work for my grandma.”
“She owns a chocolate store, right?” Jonah scrolled through his notes as he recalled the tidbit. “That sounds interesting.”
I nodded, trying to swallow and not look as lightheaded as I felt. “I wish it were more Wonka and less Hershey, though. There’s no whimsy. She sells your typical bars. I’m trying to convince her to branch out. Rebrand.”
“Okay, that’s the makings of a plan. Are you interested in the business side of things? Perhaps we could incorporate a business course? Intro to finance, too. Maybe graphic design for rebranding ideas?”
“Business is not a long-term interest. I have a more casual investment in the rebrand,” I said. “I want to make something that’ll impress my grandma, then move on.”
“We need to add courses that spark long-term interest. You’re seriously behind on your credits. And your GPA isn’t where it needs to be.”
“I’m working on that. All that. It’ll be fine.” Grades had never been my strong suit. Sitting still for hours and listening to a lecture was mind-numbing. There was little room for tangents or rabbit holes. My learning style was based solely on tangents and rabbit holes.
Jonah steepled his fingers and pressed them to his chin. “You’ve been saying that for three semesters. Lincoln, you do know you’re one failed course away from being on academic probation in the fall, right? And with the added attention on the hockey team, the school can’t continue to overlook ‘fine’ grades. They want you to represent what Mendell could be. Or they’ll use you as an example of what they won’t tolerate.”
“Better late than never, I suppose,” I said under my breath.
“All lenience and goodwill have been burned through. You understand how serious this is? How you decide to show up could set the tone for the rest of your life. The foundation you lay here will be the one you have to stand on for years to come.”
I swore my shirt collar had shrunk since I sat down and developed some self-heating capabilities. I tugged on the fabric, trying to experience some of that crappy AC. “Yes, I understand.”
I took this seriously. I just didn’t like to think about it often. There wasn’t much I could do about past grades. Grades in the future, well, that’d be a different story. I was ready and… my phone buzzed. Someone outbid me for the rare paperbacks. It was now up to two hundred dollars. Damn it.
“Lincoln,” Jonah said firmly.
“Committed,” I finished out loud, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. “I’m committed.”
“I sure hope so.” Jonah leaned back in his chair. He scrubbed his hands on his face as he tried to figure out how to save me. My favorite thing about Jonah was his genuine care for his students. He hated his job, but the thought of failing students probably kept him up at night.
“I got this.” I leaned forward to pick up his cat photo and turned it to him in hopes it would remind him there was something happier and more peaceful out there than dealing with my ass. “I won’t bring your counseling into question. Trust me.”
He blew out a calmer breath, the wrinkles in his forehead fading. “Weirdly enough, I do trust you’re going to come back from this. I’ve seen students recover from worse. And you have a good support system.”
“The best.” I leaned back in my chair. “I’m recommitted to not doing a victory lap…because that’s a bad thing, correct?”
“It is,” he affirmed with a hint of an amused smile on the horizon.
“So strange,” I mused under my breath.
“Like we agreed, you’re going to use this summer semester as time to catch up.” He reached for his mouse, refocused on his task. “We’ll give you a nine-credit course load. Think you can handle that?”
“It’ll be cake,” I promised.
My issue had never been the work. It’d been the motivation to do the work, finding the drive to finish a degree I wasn’t going to use. I didn’t have a natural inclination to focus on the future. Why would I when the present was far more entertaining?
But the visualization of the empty canvas lingered on the edges of my mind. The taste of anxiety was so new; my system didn’t understand how to digest it. If I didn’t want to be left behind by my friends and didn’t want to contend with these nerves constantly, I’d have to figure out how to hunker down.
