The bus ride home after the worst day of student teaching in the history of student teaching is, thankfully, quiet. There aren’t many people riding this afternoon, and they’re keeping to themselves. I lay my head against the window and watch mindlessly as clusters of gray commercial buildings give way to trees dropping russet and gold leaves along the edge of campus. I get a little nostalgic when I think about moving away from the safety of the university.

It’s a big, scary world out there full of monsters and unknowns.

Like idiot men.

I’m swearing off them. They’re nothing but trouble.

Speaking of … There’s something I need to do. I’ve put it off long enough.

I open my phone to see where Elliott is. According to my tracking app, he’s at Bede Hall. Again? Shouldn’t he be working instead of messing around at his brother’s place at this hour?

Doesn’t matter. Bede is on the way to my dorm. Maybe this is the sign I’ve been waiting for. I should just get it over with.

After a couple stops, the bus door opens and drops me off at Bede. I finger the ring I’ve been carrying around in my pocket for days and realize I don’t have the box. Is it rude to give back a gift without its packaging? Maybe I should wait until I find it and return the ring then. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I’ve screwed up so much lately, I can’t trust myself to do anything right anymore.

I fix my gaze on the big brick building, my mind pulling me one way while my heart tugs in another. “Make a decision, Roxie.”

I look down at the ring catching the last rays of light from the sinking sun. Last night, I dreamed Slater gave me a ring like this. The diamond wasn’t quite as big, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in sentiment.

I foolishly thought Slater cared about me. Well, maybe he does a little, but he doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t think my voice is important. Not now and not eight years ago. He’s stuck in a feedback loop of his own misconceptions that he can’t get out of—that he doesn’t want to get out of. Until he views me—and the students we teach—as capable of intelligent thought and having the ability to make good decisions, he’s stuck in my rearview.

My principles are more important than what my delusional heart thinks it wants. Gramamma always preached that if you couldn’t stand for something, you’d fall for anything, and she was right.

My mind wanders back to the memory of her lying in her bed, shriveled and dying in our little apartment. We couldn’t afford the hospital, and Gramamma said she didn’t want to die there anyway. She’d rather be here, with me. Just the two of us.

She clutched my hand with hers. I remember looking down at it, a darker brown than mine and so old. Like the branches of a tree in winter. The strength of her grip had weakened. It scared me real bad, but I refused to let go of that hand. She was all I had. And she was about to be gone.

She’d been wheezing something fierce. The doctors said the cancer spread to her lungs and other parts. Her body had turned traitor and was a day away from killing her. But that didn’t stop Gramamma from finding the strength for one more life lesson. She was good at life lessons.

Roxie, she hissed, promise me you’ll be the best Roxie you can be.

I nodded furiously, tears blinding me. I will, Gramamma. I swear.

That means stayin’ outta trouble.

Yes, Gramamma.

And eatin’ your vegetables.

I laughed through my tears at that one. She was a nut about nutrition. Yes, Gramamma.

Then she squeezed my hand hard enough to make me believe maybe she could pull through this. Maybe she was a bigger bitch than cancer and she’d out-bitched it right into remission. She actually lifted up off the bed a few inches. The tendons in her scraggly neck stood at attention and her papery skin slid back under gravity’s pull, making her look like even more of a skeleton. In those few seconds, her eyes shone strong and resolute.

And for Jesus’s sake, don’t be a pushover like your momma. She done fucked her life up, bowin’ down to a man who dipped his wick in any candle lookin’ for some flame. I don’t want my grandbaby livin’ her life for nobody but herself. You understand me? Her voice rose, stern and commanding.

I thought maybe she was hallucinating from the morphine the hospice nurse had given her earlier, but I couldn’t deny her. Yes, ma’am. I’ll live this life for me.

That’s a good girl. She closed her eyes, rested her head against the pillow again, and seemed to relax. I love you, Roxie. One day, you’ll find someone else who’ll love you for who you are.

Those were the last coherent words that passed her lips.

Gramamma was right. I will find someone who loves me one day, but Elliott isn’t that guy. Slater could be, but until he changes his ways, he’s off my radar.

Chin up, I head through the main doors of Bede Hall and hop the elevator to the sixth floor. When I get to Aaron’s door, I hear voices. Elliott and another guy. Doesn’t sound like Aaron. Maybe it’s his roommate.

I lift my hand to knock but stop myself when Aaron comes out of a nearby room and sees me. He’s wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt. Funny how much he looks like Elliott with his floppy hair.

“Hey, Roxie,” he says a little sheepishly. “Looking for Elliott?”

“Yeah, I need to give him something.”

“Not sure if he’s here.” Aaron opens the door and my jaw drops.

Elliott is sitting beside a guy on the couch in the common area between bedrooms.

Their hands are entwined.

So are their lips.

The kiss breaks as Aaron utters, “Oh, shit.” His face turns almost as red as Elliott’s. “Sorry, man.”

Elliott jumps up, tugging his shirt hem down. Probably to cover the erection he couldn’t get with me.

Turning away, I snort at the irony, shake my head, and close my eyes for a long moment to compose myself.

Elliott is gay.

Well, of course he is, dummy. All the signals were there, but you were too wrapped up in your own head to notice.

No straight man—not even a good Christian—would turn down repeated offers of sex from a woman. He used me as a crutch because he couldn’t stand up to his dear old mom and dad, probably for fear of breaking their hearts. By pretending to choose me, he only broke them a little bit.

“Roxie,” Elliott says, surprised. “How did you—”

I hold up the phone in my hand. “Tracking app, remember?”

He offers a sad, guilty smile as I step into the room, embarrassed and kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. Aaron ducks and backs out slowly, shutting the door behind him. Smart guy.

Without looking, Elliott gestures to the handsome dark-haired, dark-eyed man wearing khaki pants with a blue button-down shirt and loafers. “This is Aaron’s roommate, David.”

The guy looks like a poster child for the Young Republicans.

“Hi, David. Roxie Rambling.” I nod to him and turn to Elliott. He looks nervous. No surprise there.

I pull out the ring from my pocket and hold it up. “Thought it was best to return this, and now I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” I say, flicking my gaze to David’s feet. “You can probably get your money back. Or hock it at the pawn shop. Buy a pair of matching loafers or something.”

Elliott’s inhale is loud and sudden, the kind of sound you make when you notice an elephant rampaging toward you from thirty feet away. “Roxie—”

“It’s okay,” I say, making an effort to soften my tone. That last comment was out of line. “Sorry for butting in. I should’ve knocked before Aaron came along.”

David presses his lips into a hard line on the couch. He folds his hands and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at his feet.

Elliott glances at him and then touches my arm in that awkward way of his. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m … uh … I guess I should’ve said something earlier.”

“You’re gay,” I finish for him softly.

He shrugs, his cheeks reddening. “Bi. I think. I don’t know. Maybe ‘confused’ is a better label.”

My heart aches for him. His domineering, social-ladder-climbing parents have repressed him to the point that he doesn’t feel comfortable in his own skin. I can relate to that on some level. It sucks to have the identity beaten out of you.

“I’m not hurt by the fact that you’re bi. Gay. Whatever.” I wave a hand. “I’m hurt that you weren’t honest with me about it. I could’ve dealt with it if you’d just said something. I thought we were friends.”

“We were.” Elliott snaps his eyes to mine and steps closer. “We are.”

My heart stumbles. “Really?”

Relationship aside, Elliott has been a dear friend this past year. We’ve shared lots of laughs, a few tears, and plenty of good times. It would genuinely hurt not to ever see him again.

“Of course,” he replies with a gentle smile. “Who else would I go to see cheesy B-movies with at the midnight showings on campus?”

I smile too and then get serious. “Since we’re being honest, I should tell you that I slept with Mr. Slater. But only after you and I called off the engagement,” I add quickly. “I didn’t cheat on you. I wouldn’t do that.”

Eyes wide, he straightens and tucks his chin to his neck with surprise. “Slater? Really? I thought you hated him.”

“I do. Did.” I throw out a hand with exasperation. “It’s complicated.”

“Wow,” he marvels.

“Yeah.” That’s about all I can say about that. “I’m sorry if—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts. “I was sneaking around on you. I shouldn’t have.”

Looking for an opportunity to turn this heavy moment into something lighter, I tease, “You still saving yourself? You know gay people can marry now.”

Elliott blushes furiously. David does too. They’re cute together.

“I don’t know if our kind of marriage would go over well with my folks,” Elliott says, “and even if it did, we’re a long way off from crossing that bridge.”

“I like you a lot, Elliott. You’re a wonderful person. Be who you are. Don’t fear it. Your parents and their friends can look down on you, but you owe it to him,” I nod to David, “and to yourself to own it.”

I drop the ring into Elliott’s palm and close his fingers over it. “Thank you for our little romance. It was fun. I wish you and David the best.”

David smiles tersely and stands up behind Elliott, hands in pockets.

“Roxie, thank you. I mean it,” Elliott says, releasing a full breath with the words. Then he glances to David. “Maybe the three of us can go hiking sometime.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe. You got my number.”

I lean up, kiss him on the cheek, and walk out of the room, a little sad and a little happy. I hope Elliott stands up to his parents. I hope he finds happiness. He deserves it.

When I get to the elevator, I step in and shake my head as the doors close.

I laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh all the way down.

It’s the only thing I can do after this joke of a day, and it’s a hell of a lot better than crying.

I step out of the lobby into the late autumn afternoon and inhale the cool air, relishing its crispness. I decide to walk home instead of hopping the bus. Walking is good for thinking, and I need to do a lot of that.

I pass swaths of dull green grass, soon to succumb to the dry yellow of barren winter. Students lounge on their backs under the setting sun, reading books, talking to friends, laughing. I envy them, their relationships. I’ve never been good at those, obviously. I let people take advantage of me too easily.

No more.

It’s time I graduated from naïve-girl Roxie to in-control-woman Roxie who owns what she does and has no regrets. I’ve lagged behind on important things like getting my résumé together and putting in applications for jobs. I need to start studying for the state assessment for teacher certification I’m supposed to take soon. I need to check my bank account and review my budget so I can plan the next few months accordingly.

I will graduate on time. I will find a job. And I will not need a man or anyone else to help me do it.

Gramamma left me enough money to get through college, trusting that I’d have a strong, sensible head on my shoulders by the time I finished. I won’t let her—or me—down.

I pause my steps, tilt my head up to the brilliant orange-and-red-streaked sky, and close my eyes. A soft breeze dances over my skin, tickling my cheeks. I smile into it.

“Happy graduation to me,” I say. “I love you, Gramamma. Thanks for helping me become the strong woman you knew I could be.”

When I get back to my dorm, I spend the rest of my night revising the presentations and lessons Slater and I worked on, amping them up with high-interest graphics, videos, and songs. If he wants me to do something different, he’ll tell me. Until he says otherwise, I’m in charge, and things are gonna change, starting tomorrow.

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