Hudson rambles on for close to twenty minutes about all the reasons that I shouldn’t leave New York City. I listen carefully and nod. I’m afraid that if I actually engage in this discussion, I’ll never get to bed tonight. I look at him trying to convince me, fighting for me to stay, and a big portion of me loves it. He’s actually passionate and animated about something and not so reserved and calculated. I can see that he cares about me. I can see it in the way that he’s fighting for me to stay. I appreciate it, really, but it doesn’t change my mind. It’s all too little, too late.
34
“So, why did you invite Hudson to your final speech?” Dr. Greyson asks me at our next and final meeting.
The weather has turned from cold to wet, but remains just as gray. It has been drizzling all day today. It feels like each raindrop that falls from the sky sucks me of a little bit of my energy. Dr. Greyson is wearing bright red heels, which complement her bright red lipstick and stands out nicely against the grayness of her suit. Looking at that splash of color gives me a little bit of a boost.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I guess I’m looking for a little closure.”
“What is the speech about?” Dr. Greyson asks.
“It’s free form. It can be about anything. So, I decided to write something about him. About us. But I don’t even know if he’ll show up.”
“If he doesn’t?” she asks.
I think about that for a moment.
“You know what?” I say. “It’ll be okay. If he doesn’t show up, that’s fine. This speech isn’t really for him. It’s sort of for me.”
Dr. Greyson’s face explodes in a wide smile.
“I’m very proud of you, Alice. You’ve come a long way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t make it a habit to comment like this,” she says, “but since this is our last meeting and you’ve made plans to go elsewhere next year, I might as well go ahead and tell you.”
I take a deep breath and brace myself. Dr. Greyson is not one to offer up compliments easily. In fact, everything with her is all about being a work in progress, but I guess that’s what life is, isn’t it? A work in progress? You’re never done growing or changing and there’s always room for improvement until that moment when you’re no more. I’ve never thought about it, but that perspective makes Dr. Greyson quite an optimist about humanity. More of an optimist than I am, probably.
“When you first came here, Alice, I saw a broken, hurt little girl. Someone who was afraid to own her feelings. Someone who was afraid to listen to her heart. Someone who was, to a large extent, not very true to herself. Now, you’re a different person altogether. You have grown into yourself. You have gained self-esteem. You believe that you have worth and your feelings have worth. That makes me very proud, Alice. You’ve become quite a young woman, my dear.”
I smile. I want to jump out of my seat and hug her. Then…I do. I wrap my arms around her shoulders in a warm embrace.
“Oh my.” She laughs in surprise and then hugs me back.
“I hate to say it, but I think I’m going to miss you,” I say, sitting back down across from her. “Coming here hasn’t always been my favorite time of the week, but I think I really learned a lot from you.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” Dr. Greyson says. “I want you to remember that it’s not me that you have learned a lot from in this office. It’s through the process of reflection. I don’t mean to undermine my own credibility, of course, but it was you who has done all the work. All the work of looking back and examining your feelings and actions.”
I nod. She’s right, of course. Yet again.
“Well, I’m going to miss you anyway,” I say with a shrug.
“And I’ll miss you.”
I look at the clock. Our last meeting has come to a close.
“I hope that USC ends up being everything you’re looking for,” she says at the end of our session. “If you ever find yourself in New York City again, don’t be a stranger.”
Walking back home from Dr. Greyson’s office, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. My feet don’t seem to be connected to the ground. It’s an amazing feeling to feel like someone, a stranger, is proud of you. My parents have always told me that they loved me and were proud of me, but now hearing it from a complete stranger, I beam with self-confidence. Dr. Greyson is right. I have made a lot of progress this semester. Everything that has happened has made me a stronger and more self-assured person at the end and that, somehow, made it all worthwhile.
I arrive at the auditorium where I’m supposed to give my speech, early as usual. There’s a line of nervous students backstage waiting to go on. The auditorium is filled with five classes of Public Speaking students. There have been two sessions of this particular kind of torture and this is the second one. Everyone backstage has been assigned an earlier time and the rest of the people who are going today are waiting in the audience. I make small talk with some of the others, but we’re all focused and not really into it. We’re all too focused and too nervous about the speech that we’re about to make. I’m the third one up and I look over my flash cards. I’ve written the speech in big letters with a lot of spacing in the words to make
