Page 2 of Lessons in Love

I prefer driving in with Dad over Mum. He—like me—can appreciate the silence. It gives me a chance to get my thoughts in order. I’m on my way to start my final year at university. Well, at least for my science undergrad. I’ve got a fantastic post-grad program lined up if I can just get through this year without failing. Again. Like my first year.

My university has this idea that we should explore other areas of study to truly discover our interests, which led me to this problem in the first place. Why do I need to study anything else when I know exactly what I want to do and exactly what I like?

Instead, I found myself in Contemporary Literature. Which, for someone who is more comfortable in a science lab than a library, was one of my personal circles of Hell. The tutor knew I didn’t want to be there, and my grades reflected that. Ending that subject with a failure was not my happiest moment, but spending three weeks of my winter break doing an extra organic chemistry subject with my favourite professor helped balance the woes. However, it did not balance the need for a subject outside my main area of study. So here we are.

Third year student doing a first year Literature subject for the second time. Should be easy, right?

And if it’s not easy, I lose my post-grad program. And if I lose my post-grad program, I lose my PhD offer. And if I lose my PhD offer, I basically don’t have a reason to live. Simple stuff.

Three hours can pass in a flash when you’re busy planning your own funeral.

When we pull into the gates of my student accommodation, the knots in my stomach begin to ease. Here, I can push away the thoughts of my imminent failure with work. Good old-fashioned work. My favourite.

I can see Gemma waiting in the small courtyard after I messaged her that we were getting close, her long auburn hair tucked into a messy bun. I wave, and she sprints over.

“Miller! Good to see you again!” She has her arms around me before I can even get out of the car. Gemma and I had adjoining rooms in our first year and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Coming from the country to the city alone can be daunting, so it’s nice to have people who can understand you.

“It’s been too long!”

In reality it’s been less than three months but being separated from Gemma for any period of time feels like an eternity. I forgot how infectious her smile is, how she can set anyone at ease. She greets my dad and starts helping us unload the car. We chat casually about our breaks as we drag my suitcases up three flights of stairs. I pull up the email outlining my room number and code as we head straight to my room for the next fifteen weeks.

“On the same floor, as always.” Gemma flashes me one of her classic smirks. She likes to believe it’s luck of the draw. I like to think it’s because her older sister, Misty, works here. She came down for her teaching degree and never left, taking over as head of student accommodation.

Dad hangs back as we push my cases in. He doesn’t like to stick around on move-in day, which is why I prefer him doing the drop-off rather than Mum. If she had her way, we’d have a semester-long sleepover.

“Well, possum, looks like you’re all settled in.” We hug, and I take a deep breath. I know this is the last time I’ll smell the farm for a few weeks, the grass and the hay, and it claws at my heart.

“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” He waves goodbye, and leaves Gemma and I alone in my new room.

“Do you want to unpack or….” Gemma asks out of politeness, even though she knows our move-in day routine like the back of her hand. She never gives me enough time to even begin feeling homesick.

I grin, my stomach growling in anticipation. “Let’s go eat.”

It’s a tradition for Gemma and I to visit our favourite place on campus on our first day. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant a short walk away from our rooms, dishing up the best ramen in the city, hands down. Coming from small country towns Gemma and I never really got to eat many cuisines, so that became our mission ever since we moved here. We order our usual bowls of ramen and settle into one of the many cosy booths.

“So, how was your summer?” I ask, even though Gemma sent me daily updates on everything she did while she and her girlfriend Sam backpacked around South-East Asia.

Went outside. Saw a squirrel. Thought of you.

“Oh, it was just incredible. I have to drag you along next time!’

Gemma always encourages me to join her on one of her many trips even though I haven’t left the state, let alone the country. Traveling scares me. Too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. But I do like hearing about it. She’s halfway through her dramatic retelling of the third time she lost her passport on the trip before her attention turns to me. I smile over the bowl of piping-hot ramen as it’s set down before me.

“What did you get up to?”

I laugh. “Just the usual. I tried to relax in the madhouse.” I didn’t, really. Relax. At all. I spent most of the break dreading coming back here, dreading that one stupid subject. It is hard to find a moment alone with your thoughts when you have four siblings.

“Hey Eden. Are you okay?” I trace Gemma’s waving hand up to her face, giving me that concerned look she only gives me when I zone out a bit too hard. I give her a weak smile and try to distract myself by digging into the food. It works for me, but not for Gemma, who’s eyes narrow. “This is about that literature subject, isn’t it?” God, she can read me like a book. “Look, I know you’re stressing about it, but you will be absolutely fine. You’re like the smartest person I know.”

“I feel like being the smartest person you know isn’t too much of a victory, considering where you’re from.” Gemma rolls her eyes as I laugh. I tap my chopsticks a few times on the side of my bowl, trying to get my thoughts into order. “But what if it’s not fine? What if I fail again?”

“Then you do it again. It’s not the end of the world if you fail, even though you love to pretend it is.”

I give her my best attempt at a dirty look, but both of us feel the laughter bubbling up until we dissolve into hysterics. The warmth of the ramen helps ease my worries.

“Just got to knuckle down and focus this year. No distractions.”

Gemma raises an eyebrow. “When have you ever had distractions?”