For the most part, I have my life figured out. I’ve known for a long time what I wanted to do with my life. I’ve known about my college plan and my specific interests. I started questioning that, which was probably just a side effect of the grief,
-_~* Week 14 *~_-
Stalking around his dorm, tapping fingers, and reciting important vocabulary words from “Systems of Neuroscience” class. Everything rolls off of his tongue and comes out of his brain effortlessly. The studying seems pointless, and Caroline makes sure that he’s aware of this as she scrolls through her dashboard on her phone.
“How many more times do you need to say ‘cortex’ before you feel confident in your knowledge?” she questions passively, though her asking is evidence of her boredom from listening to him. She doesn’t know, though, that Santiago is having a bit of a mental breakdown. The repetition is an effort to distract him, because, earlier that morning, he emailed his academic advisor with a question.
Would it be too late to change my major to biomedical engineering this far into my degree?
Santiago wasn’t expecting an email back right away, or anything, but he’s been doing everything he can to avoid thinking about the response. Realistically, he already knows the answer possibilities, but he can’t stop his brain from cycling back to this idea of legacy.
What is a legacy? This particular question runs through his head repeatedly. How does his continue making a name for himself, while serving justice to his parents? While they were always been supportive of his choice in neuroscience, the possibility that they secretly resented him for not being an engineer has begun haunting him. Spending time at his house has altered his process of thinking, making him ask questions he’s never asked, and making him feel worthless in a way that he’s never known.
It has made him more sensitive to Caroline’s plight to live in the home she shared with her grandmother, too.
“I already feel confident in my knowledge,” he grumbles, several seconds, maybe even minutes, after her query. He lets silence befall the room as he continues through his words: analgesic, neurochemical, striatum, prefrontal cortex, preclinical, cortisol, amygdala, limbic, respiratory center, subcortical, synaptic…
The list continues in his head, as background noise, to the scenarios that are playing out actively in his cerebrum. He becomes an engineer, like his parents, though in a different area, and he works with people that knew them. They are impressed, they see the intellectual resemblance, and they admire his pursuit of their passions. Alternatively, he becomes an engineer, like his parents, in a different area, and works with people that knew them, only they see him as a disappointment and a discounted version of their greatness.
Santiago could remain in neuroscience, out of personal preference, and always feel happy with his work but hatred with his choice. He could have been like his parents, disappointment or not, but chose not to be – and for what reason? When children admire their parents, should they not wish to be like them? Should they not wish to be improved replications of their existence? It wouldn’t be impossible to remain in his chosen field of study and continue into a life of fulfilled and proper happiness, but not without seeing if it were even possible to still choose the other path.
He had to ask.
“Your phone is ringing,” Caroline says, sitting up and looking around for his cellphone in the living space. He left it out by the kitchen counter with his wallet after getting home late from class last night. Besides, the original plan was for Caroline to come over and then they’d get something to eat before she went back in for a closing shift she had picked up, but she’d gotten a text that things were looking pretty dead and there were no other call-offs – so she could just stay home. The new plan is for them to visit a new burger joint that was getting pretty great reviews.
With very little hustle, he walks over to his phone. On one hand, he expects it to be the attorney to be calling him about the life insurance policy that he was trying to get squared away last week. On the other, he expects it to be his academic advisor calling instead of emailing him back. What he isn’t expecting is for his caller ID to scroll “Dr. Kuvaar” across the screen.
He answers it quickly and asks her to hold for just a moment, and then he turns to Caroline. “Can you pull up the menu up? I’m going to take this call in my room but it should be quick.”
“Sure,” she says, turning to look at him with an eyebrow cocked as high onto her forehead as she can manage without shooting her eyeball across the room from the awkward tension. Though it isn’t scientifically possible, the image of it makes Santiago chuckle a tiny bit as he isolates himself in his room.
Then he unmutes the call. “Why are you calling me?”
Doctor Kuvaar clears her throat from the other end, sounding a bit tired. “I’ve just gotten a voicemail that was a bit shocking. Is it really your intention to switch majors?”
Santiago resists the urge kick something and hang up. Why did she need to be notified? What purpose was there in having her psychoanalyze a genuine question he was asking a professional that would have the answer he needs. Switching majors is a matter for an academic advisor, hence not reaching out to Doctor Kuvaar, who is a psychiatrist.
“I was just curious,” he growls through gritted teeth.
“Your professors are reporting that your grades are back to normal and that they’ve seen a renewed passion for your chosen field during labs and in your essays. What has prompted you to consider a different career path?” This interrogation is almost insulting. People change their minds all the time, even people who have well hashed out plans for their lives.
With as much patience as he can muster, he answers her, “I just want to know if it’s possible. It was just a question.”
“What does Caroline think about this?”
With a sigh, he reveals to her that Caroline doesn’t know. Telling her would seem like a slap in the face, he thought. “She knew I was lying when I said I supported her decision to try to get a second job instead of finishing school so she could live in her old apartment.”
Doctor Kuvaar breathes very audibly from her side of the phone. “I see.”
“It’s just a question,” Santiago reminds her.
Of course, she’s not leaving it there, because that’s not her job. Doctor Kuvaar has to be wary of everything professionally. He is glad that she’s being diligent; he just wishes she wasn’t being so mindful about him specifically. “I think you should talk to Caroline first, and hear what she has to say about it. I’ve told your academic advisor not to reply unless you sent her another email confirming that you still wanted to know the answer.”
“Fine,” Santiago agrees, ending the call before he even takes another breath.
Caroline begins rattling off a bunch of items that she’s already interested in when he comes out of the bedroom. Mainly she talks about this Pretzel Drop Burger, which is a cheeseburger that gets wrapped in pretzel dough and then deep-fried. The recommended side is a fruit salad. “The chef says it’ll balance the heaviness of the sandwich and ‘nip that sweet tooth in the bud.’ Everything about the menu is absolutely hilarious but also sounds delicious.”
They walk to the car as she continues reading the different options, piquing his interest with a menu item called the Rowdy Dog. While it may look like an ordinary chilidog, it is hollowed out and filled with melted cheddar cheese and topped with a spicy chili that gets served with cornbread hush puppies.
“If it’s a burger place, why do they have hot dogs?” Santiago asks before Caroline can move on to another food item description.
Caroline retorts almost immediately, “I’d rather not have this debate. Does the value of a hot dog as a sandwich really matter if it tastes good?”
“But I’m not debating whether it’s a sandwich. My question is whether it’s a burger,” he clarifies gently. “It is called ‘Happy’s Hamburgers,’ so why is it serving anything other than hamburgers? Even a cheeseburger would be out of their area of expertise.”
Wobbling back and forth for a moment, she eventually stops to say what’s on her mind. “Maybe they started with hamburgers and tried new items before opening the restaurant? A name can change. A name doesn’t mean as much as people think it should, really, because it’s what you do under that name that matters most,” Caroline explains, shrugging and now jumping over cracks.
Despite not having said anything yet about the looming question of legacy in his mind, the leading motivator behind his asking about switching programs, she’s managed to tell him something that he needs to hear. Santiago mulls over each individual sentence like he would with his textbooks.
Maybe they started with hamburgers and tried new items before opening the restaurant? There were things that interested Santiago before neuroscience, even before he had thought he would be a brain surgeon. When he was middle-school he loved building things and working with simple circuits things. He thought he would be an architect or… or… a mechanical engineer.
He’d considered engineering once a long time ago. Santiago can’t believe he forgot. His parents insisted that he wait until he was older to commit to a career path. There was pressure everywhere to know what to do with one’s life by the age of thirteen, but his father thought it absurd and his mother declared it limiting. He wasn’t allowed to even think about career planning officially until after his sophomore year in high school. Even though he never said, he had already started changing his mind about brain surgery in his freshman year, but he hadn’t decided on neurodegenerative disorders are primary focus until the end of his senior year. Everything can change and evolve. Nothing is exempt from that truth.
A name can change. People change their names for many reasons. Entertainers change their names so that they can have something exclusive that won’t be mistaken for anyone else. It gives them “searchability” on the Internet. When people get married, women change their last names. When children are adopted, their names are changed to varying degrees. Some people grow up hating their names and get them legally changed completely. People use nicknames and pseudonyms. A name is only ever going to be what the person bearing it makes of it. A name doesn’t mean as much as people think it should, really, because it’s what you do under that name that matters most.
Santiago stops just shy of Caroline’s car in the parking lot, which is fairly empty for Saturday afternoon. Many students are probably hung over or sleeping, the rest are likely studying in their pajamas with a mix of coffee and energy drinks. He doesn’t mind the absence of people, really, because he wouldn’t feel quite as emboldened to do what he’s trying to do to show his appreciation for his girlfriend’s wisdom.
When Caroline stutters to a stop and backtracks to be nearer to him, she raises a brow. “Are you okay?”
Without hesitation, something that he normally struggles with when interacting with others, he moves his hands up to Caroline’s cheeks. The instant that his skin meets her, she blushes and her confusion melts away. Her lips begin curling into a smile, and he starts leaning into her, prepared to kiss with intentionality.
Before he presses his mouth to her, however, he pauses. “I can kiss you, right?”
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that, but consider this your official clearance to kiss me whenever you feel so inclined,” Caroline declares in a gentle whisper before closing the distance herself.
Unlike previous kisses they’ve shared, which have been quick and gentle, this is more. There’s more intensity, more hunger, and more freedom. Nerves that would have normally left Santiago shaky and unsure are gone, and the polite restraint that Caroline usually uses in regards to their relationship dissipates. In that exact moment, without planning or motivation, their dynamic shifts. They are not just ‘a couple’ now, the way some college couples can be – just two people dating and having a good time.
No. Santiago and Caroline are more serious than that; they are committed.
“I wanted to switch programs,” Santiago blurts when they pull apart, breathless.
Caroline jolts at the information. “What?”
“I asked about switching programs this morning. Doctor Kuvaar called me to ask me to reconsider after talking to you,” he explains quickly. “I didn’t want to start a fight since I know you wanted to move into your grandma’s apartment and I wasn’t totally on board, even if I tried to be. I know you’ve not been called back for anything and that pay rates weren’t worth it for the ones that have, so it felt insulting to be questioning my own choices.”
Caroline rolls her eyes and gestures to the car. They’re inside and buckled before he can continue, which he does while she’s pulling up the address on her phone’s GPS. “So we started talking about this restaurant and you unintentionally gave me this brilliant advice that you didn’t know I needed. It is too perfect, but it’s nearly scientific in a way, too. Maybe I’m going crazy, or maybe I just need someone in my life who understands me a little bit better than I do.”
She starts the car without offering any reply. Sitting in the driver’s seat and focusing on the road, he can only assume that she’s mulling what he’s just revealed over in her head. Perhaps he’s said too much? Did he scare her with his comment about something being perfect with them? The possibility that he ruined something that he thought so certainly moments ago had just blossomed into something meaningful starts to gnaw away at the optimism he was beginning to enjoy. And, of course, he gets tangled in all the times he thinks the word ‘something’ too.
“Don’t do that,” she laughs. “Don’t convince yourself that you messed up your math problem or something. I’m just thinking about the part where you said you didn’t want to start a fight with me because you didn’t want me to quit school and work multiple jobs so I could live somewhere that was special to me.”
Her body language says that he should feel fine, but her words say that he should feel bad. “Was that not good?”
“A bit,” her voice almost hums in contradiction to the hard consonant sounds. It rolls and is biting, but not in a bitter way. If anything, she’s waiting for him to understand what about that comment is not good. She doesn’t wait for very long, though. “The fight would’ve have been from you not supporting it. It would have been from lying to me about it.”
“Is that why you kicked my ass at laser tag?” the playful tone of voice he takes is very intentional, and thankfully as comedic as he hopes for it to be because Caroline cracks a smile. Then she begins leaning forward, something she does when she wants to stop herself from laughing too hard.
The rest of their ride to Happy’s Hamburgers is filled with honest conversation and cheerful jeering. While everything feels the same, it’s different, but in a good way. As the weeks meld together, Santiago can’t help but think about how everything around him keeps changing so rapidly. There’s nothing that can escape the promise that change will come, and it’s absolutely terrifying because it can take lives.
But change can give life, too, and he is really glad that it gave him Caroline.
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