So, if that’s true, why did he have to go and tell everyone that he wanted to marry me? Why did he have to get such a big ring? Why did he have to throw it in his father’s face? There are some things that I will probably never understand, but I will talk about it with him, one of these days. Just not now. Not yet.
Despite all of my melancholy and lonesomeness, I did manage to come to a decision. A pretty important one, too. I’m going to transfer to University of Southern California next year. It’s something that I had been thinking about ever since this whole mess with Hudson happened. Now I think that getting out of town and going to a completely different school will be the answer to my problems. I know it looks like I’m running away. It sort of feels like that, too, but I honestly don’t think I can solve my problems by staying here. They are too complicated and convoluted. No amount of talking will make Hudson understand what happened or forgive me for what I’ve done. No amount of talking will allow me to forgive him for sleeping with Kathryn or for starting this whole thing in the first place. At this point, it feels like all we can hope for is space. Distance. Space, distance, and time will allow both of us to move on and, perhaps one day, be in that nice space again where we can talk to each other without wanting to kill each other.
USC will be my opportunity to start over. It’s a good school in a warm climate near my home. I know LA. LA is my home. Nothing bad, nothing this bad, has ever happened to me there. It sounds like the best thing. I’m only in my freshman year and I can barely see myself making it through this winter intact.
It is with this attitude of cautious optimism and hopefulness that I walk into my Public Speaking class that Friday and raise my hand to make my first real speech. I have not had anything to drink, and I’m under no mind-altering substances, not even caffeine. Surprisingly, the jitters and the fear that plagued my other speeches didn’t accompany this one. No, it’s like I’m a completely different person now. I clear my throat and look down at my notecards. The assignment is to give a public speech in a professional situation and I’ve prepared a lecture on Jane Austen. I did my midterm paper on Jane Austen for my Victorian Literature class and I give a cautious, but thorough, speech on her life and work. Yes, I rely on the notecards a little too much. Yes, I avoid eye contact with almost all students in the class and instead choose to look out into space, somewhere beyond their sight lines. Overall? Overall, the speech goes incredibly well. I speak clearly and my voice only shakes a little bit when I forget to breathe. I take a few sips of water as my mouth runs dry, but I don’t rush through them and I don’t worry about tipping over the water bottle and everyone laughing at me.
“I don’t know what it is, but something about me feels different now,” I tell Dr. Greyson at our next meeting. I’m going on and on about the success of my speech and how in awe I am over the whole experience.
“What do you think it is?” she asks, taking off her reading glasses and letting them dangle around her neck on the ornate leather rope.
“I’m not sure.” I shrug and really think about it. “I sort of think it has something to do with everything that has happened. In the beginning of the semester, I was so focused on Hudson and our relationship and how he wasn’t helping me prepare for the speeches that I was paralyzed by them. Now—now that everything happened as it happened—I don’t know, it feels like I’ve been through too much to almost care what those people think.”
“Very good,” Dr. Greyson says, nodding approvingly. “I’m very proud of you for making so much progress, Alice.”
“What progress did I make?” I ask.
“You’re giving yourself a voice. When you first came here, you were lost in your own mind. You didn’t care what you thought and felt. You only seemed to care about what other people thought and felt about you. It’s almost like you, the inside you, didn’t exist. Now…here she is. You’re embracing your flaws and mistakes. You’re owning them, but you’re not letting them dominate your life. You’re no longer silencing yourself.”
I think about
