Chapter 6 - The Moving Day
The transition to the city was a whirlwind of cardboard boxes and bittersweet goodbyes.
Leaving our cramped apartment felt like shedding an old,
painful skin.
The Vance Cooperative was a beautiful brick building,
covered in ivy and filled with the sounds of children playing.
For the first time,
Adriana wasn't the "exception" or the "scandal."
She was just another student,
balancing a backpack on one shoulder and a diaper bag on the other.
I helped her unpack her meager belongings into the sun-drenched two-bedroom unit.
"You don't have to stay,
Mom,"
she said,
noticing me lingering by the window.
"I know you have your own life back home."
I looked at her,
really looked at her,
and realized my life had been tied to hers for so long I didn't know where I ended and she began.
"The diner can find another waitress,"
I said,
turning away from the view of the campus.
"But Lily only has one grandmother."
"And besides,
who's going to watch her while you're in that organic chemistry lab?"
Adriana hugged me,
the kind of hug that says thank you for all the things words can't cover.
But as we settled in,
the reality of our situation began to bite.
The foundation covered the rent,
but food,
diapers,
and textbooks still cost a fortune.
I found a job at a local bakery,
starting my shifts at four in the morning so I could be home by the time Adriana’s classes ended.
Life became a relay race,
passing the baby back and forth like a baton.
One evening,
Adriana came home looking defeated,
her eyes red from crying.
"The professor told me I shouldn't bother with the premed track,"
she whispered,
dropping her books on the table.
"He said that with a child,
I’ll never have the time for a residency."
"He said I should switch to something 'more manageable,'
like social work or teaching."
I felt that familiar fire rekindle in my gut.
"Is that what you want?"
I asked,
setting down a tray of cookies I'd brought from the bakery.
"No,"
she said,
her voice gaining heat.
"I want to be a surgeon."
"I want to be the person who fixes things that are broken."
"Then you go back there tomorrow,"
I told her,
leaning over the table.
"And you tell him that you’ve already handled things more difficult than a triple bypass."
"You tell him that your daughter is your engine,
not your anchor."
She looked at Lily,
who was currently trying to eat a rubber duck,
and a small,
determined smile spread across her face.
"You're right,"
she said,
opening her biology textbook.
"I’ve already outlived the expectations of everyone in our hometown."
"One professor is nothing compared to that."
As she studied late into the night,
the glow of her desk lamp felt like a beacon in the dark.
May you like
We were no longer just surviving;
we were colonizing a future that was never meant for us.
