Page 86 of The Pleasure of Panic

Not all of them have their shit together that day. Not all of them have achieved whatever it was they thought they wanted when they started the class. And not all of them have found their peace. But all of them are on their way.

And I helped them do that. With words.

It amazes me every time I think about it. That something so simple, something free, something we all have access to—put together in the right order and said with conviction—can change lives.

I am not the world’s most tragic girl, by any stretch of the imagination. But I’ve paid my dues. So maybe… maybe today is my graduation day? Maybe I put in the time, did all the homework, and now it’s time for me to move on too?

Maybe I’ve been using them to fix me, instead of the other way around?

“What are you thinking about?” Finn asks as we sit at a red light on Champa Street.

“Everything,” I say, looking over at him to smile. “Do you think this is like, meant to be or something?”

“What is?” he asks. “Us?”

I nod. “Yeah. Because, well… we met the day before yesterday, Finn. That’s kinda crazy, right?”

He exhales, but it’s kind of a laugh. “Totally,” he says, easing the car forward when the light turns green. “But you know what?”

“What?” I ask.

He looks at me for a moment, then takes his eyes back to the road and the morning traffic. “I’ve been in a cage for so long I barely know what it means to be free. And this, what we’re doing today, feels a whole lot like freedom to me.”

“What if we hate each other tomorrow?”

“Do you think we will?” he asks. And it’s not a joke. It’s not mean, either. In fact, it feels like the most honest question I’ve ever been asked.

So I say, “No. I don’t.”

“Me either.”

“I think… I think I see some frustration in the future. I see some challenges. Like what if you snore like a fuckin’ bear?”

He laughs.

“You didn’t last night, but that doesn’t really count. I wouldn’t call anything we did last night typical.”

“Maybe it is? Maybe that’s our new normal? Fucking, and laughing, and talking, and room service. Maybe that’s the rest of our lives? Maybe I never sleep deep enough again for you to find out the answer to the do-you-snore question?”

“What if we get caught?” I ask.

“Who’s gonna catch us?”

“The Bureau? Caleb?”

“And then what?”

“I dunno, maybe they kill us?” I say.

“What if we stay and toe the line? What will they do to us then?”

“Same, I suppose. Eventually.”

“Do you want to stay and fight?” He looks right at me when he asks that question.

I shake my head. “No, that for sure leads to death.”

“Are you having second thoughts? Because if so, I get it. You barely know me and—”