Learning Curve: Epilogue

Friday July 25th

Scottie

“I have great news,” Ms. Bartlett, my counselor here at Dickson, updates as she leans across her desk to hand me a paper. “Your schedule has been updated.”

“How many of my classes did you manage to switch?” I question, glancing down at the sheet of paper with a cup half full of hope. I know Ms. Bartlett will try, but with the semester starting soon and open enrollment happening nearly a week ago, I don’t expect her to be able to perform magic.

Studying the paper more closely when Ms. Bartlett doesn’t say anything, I run quickly through the dream schedule, double-check twice that all the psych classes I needed are on there, and then gape. “Wait…you got me in all of the classes?”

“All of them.” She smiles, and she’s not the only one. If my face were a spaceship, it’d be picking up humans at an astonishing rate.

“You’re a miracle worker!”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Scottie.” Ms. Bartlett grins and blows imaginary dust off her fingernails before subsequently polishing them on her shoulders.

“And—” A soft knock on her office door grabs our attention, interrupting her.

A scruffy curled head pokes in and locks eyes with her, and she gives me an apologetic smile. “Give me a second, Scottie?”

“Of course,” I say with a nod as she steps out of her office to talk to her colleague.

Silence and solitude seep in around me, and I pick at my cuticles as thoughts of excitement and anticipation for my new career path swirl through my mind.

A career path inspired by Molly and me and Luke—another teenager from St. Luke’s Inpatient Rehabilitation who was diagnosed with retinal detachment syndrome and is mentally and emotionally struggling with his new reality after a failed surgery attempt on his right eye. A career path inspired by the millions of young adults like us, dealing with unforeseen circumstances or unfair hands and doing their best to navigate in a world that wasn’t designed for them. A career path born of one pivotal conversation I can still remember word for word, weeks later.

“You know, Luke, maybe being blind won’t be so bad?” Molly had chimed in. “You’re really cute, and I bet there will be a lot of girls who will want to help you out, you know.” She waggled her brows and giggled, and Luke burst out in laughter.

“You think being blind will get me girls, Molly?”

“Probably.” Molly giggled more. “And maybe I don’t have to stop running track because I lost my leg. Maybe I can get one of those cool legs and run in the Paralympics.”

“That’d be so cool, Molls,” I said, and Luke agreed.

“That’s definitely something I want to be there for in person,” he said. “But you’ll have to save me extra tickets, though, because I’ll need a bunch of seats for all my new girlfriends.”

Luke’s doctors have given him a dismal prognosis in regards to his vision, and they’ve estimated that, in a few years’ time, it’s likely he will go blind in both eyes. Molly is still dealing with adjusting to her amputation, but she’s also experiencing a significant amount of phantom limb pain. Per Molly, it sucks big time. And I’m not sure what the future holds for me. I may or may not walk again, and I can’t put my life on hold in hopes of a miracle.

But the three of us are a mere drop in the bucket of people like us, and there’s a space for me to help provide light at the end of many a dark tunnel.

We need space to vent our frustrations and the tools to fix the things we can. And we need someone advocating for that outside of ourselves and our families, during the most vulnerable time in our lives.

As Luke and Molly spoke and I listened, I realized that the someone advocating for the bucket of people like them and me could be…me.

After I left the hospital that day, I sent Elizabeth—aka Ms. Bartlett—an email. Ever since then, she’s been helping me get my course load updated to reflect my new major—a bachelor’s in Developmental Psychology that will hopefully lead to a masters of science in Child and Adolescent Developmental Psychology.

My end goal is to be a therapist who specializes in counseling and being a supportive resource for children with disabilities. Especially, children and adolescents who are faced with tragic, life-changing situations like Molly and Luke and me. I want to help advocate for them. Help them and their parents deal with the numerous difficult emotions you face. Help them find their path to acceptance, and more than that, their path to not just surviving but thriving.

“Sorry about that, Scottie,” Elizabeth announces as she walks back into her office and sits down behind her desk. It’s crazy how all those months ago—when everything had happened with my mom—I was purposely ignoring this woman. But over the past two weeks, I’ve been in contact with her so much that we’re on a first-name basis.

“No problem,” I say.

“So, we’re happy with the schedule changes?”

“Happy?” I question on a laugh. “More like ecstatic. Thank you so much, Elizabeth. I know it wasn’t easy, getting all of this switched last minute.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Scottie. I’m glad to do it.” She smiles. “So…do you think you’ll want to get a PhD in Clinical Psychology?”

“A PhD?” I furrow my brow. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Of course it is.” Elizabeth chuckles. “They don’t call you a doctor for nothing. But I’ve seen your grades, Scottie. I also see your passion. This is the kind of career you were made to do. So, don’t write it off, okay?”

“How about I’ll start with my bachelor’s and go from there?” I toss back, and Elizabeth grins.

“And how about I’ll be here for you every step of the way?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Oh, by the way,” she adds. “I had an interesting meeting with Connie over at the Disability Services Office. She wants me to assist her in creating a survey for all students to fill out every year so that the university can be aware of any disabilities and provide them with resources that will help accommodate them. And I heard that you are the driving force behind this incredible change… Is that true?”

I can’t hide my smile. “It’s true.”

After some serious research on ADA accommodations on college campuses, one of the things I found out was that most universities—including Dickson—have students self-identify their disabilities. Every university appears to have a different process of self-identifying, but the commonality of them all was that it ends up putting students in a situation where they have to strongly advocate for themselves rather than having the university trying to advocate for them.

Insert me looking out for them instead.

And it appears that Dickson is taking my suggestions to heart. At a pretty rapid pace, to my utter surprise.

“I swear, Scottie, you can take on the world.” Elizabeth smiles at me from across her desk, and the only thing that comes to mind is… Hell yeah, I can.

My phone vibrates in my jean-shorts pocket, and I cringe a little when I meet her eyes, but she just waves a hand at me. “By all means, check your messages. I don’t mind.”

I glance down at the screen and see a text that makes me smile all over again.

Finn: Are you coming home soon, birthday girl?

“Well, with the look on your face, I’d say, it’s a good text,” Elizabeth comments, and I laugh.

“It’s my boyfriend.”

“Let me guess, he wants you to get this boring meeting over with so you can celebrate your birthday?”

I snort. “Pretty much.”

“You got big plans for your birthday, Scottie?”

“Just spending time with my boyfriend.”

Honestly, it feels weird to call Finn my boyfriend. With how far we’ve come, that word feels weak. It feels like it doesn’t come close to encompassing what he is to me.

“Well, I’m not going to keep you here any longer. You need to go enjoy your birthday instead of sitting here talking to me about career paths.”

Funnily enough, I love talking about my career path. It feels like my destiny. It feels like everything I’ve been through has been for a reason. Like, this is how my life is supposed to be.

Would I love to get out of this chair and walk again? Of course.

But am I going to spend the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself? Hell no.

I have so much to give, so much to offer, and if my freak accident of an injury has proven anything, it’s that I’m strong. I can do hard things.

I can do anything.

“Thanks for everything, Elizabeth,” I tell her again as I start to wheel out the door.

But when I make it down the hallway and to the elevators, I pause to send Finn a quick text back.

Me: Honey, I’ll be home soon.

And his response comes in a second later—I can’t fucking wait.

Finn

Today is Scottie’s birthday. She’s officially nineteen, and she has no clue that I have quite the bash planned for her.

Everyone in our friend group has her under the impression that they’re either back home or on trips for the summer, as per my orders to keep it a surprise.

Ace is in the Bahamas with Julia and her family. Kayla went back home to hang with her folks in Texas. Blake is in California for the next two weeks.

At least, that’s what we’ve told her.

All of it’s bullshit, but my girl has no clue.

I hold the door for her as we head out of our new on-campus apartment. That’s right, we’re officially living together, and while these apartments on Broadway are generally reserved for juniors and seniors, Scottie milked her injury for all it’s worth, and Dean Kandinsky gave us an exception.

Sometimes, being the paralyzed girl ain’t so bad. Those are her words, not mine, and they were said when the housing office handed over the keys to us about a week ago. We wasted zero time moving in, and the past five days have been the kind of bliss I never thought was possible.

Scottie tries to act stubborn when I start to push her chair, but I roll my eyes and keep moving us down Broadway toward Zip’s Diner.

This place is our go-to these days, and all thanks to Ace’s friendship with the owner, Zip helped me get everything arranged this morning when Scottie had her meeting with her counselor.

“I’m just so freaking happy that Elizabeth was able to help me add all of the psych classes I needed to stay on track to get my bachelor’s in four years,” Scottie rambles, still excited about her meeting this morning.

“I’m proud of you,” I tell her.

“You’re proud of me?” she asks and looks over her shoulder to meet my eyes.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” I say and mean every word. “The way you face your own challenges and the way you’ve made it a priority to help other people? You’re amazing, Scottie.”

Her lips twist up into the most adorable grin. “Why’d you stop? Keep going,” she says through a giggle. “Tell me more about how awesome I am.”

I laugh at that, but I also give in to her easy demand. “You’re beautiful. You’re kind. You’re smart. You’re funny. And you have the most perfect tasting puss—”

“Okay!” she exclaims on a laugh. “That’s enough.”

“Hey, you asked, babe.” I chuckle and squeeze her shoulder. “And you know how it goes when you ask me to do something, I’ll always come through.”

“Speaking of class schedules, you horny beast, did you check yours?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“Nope, but I have a feeling you already did.”

She giggles. “Yeah. I did.”

“And how’s it look?”

“Like calculus is going to own your ass, but it’s all good. I’m sure Lexi can help you out.”

She’s not wrong that Lexi will be my go-to for all things numbers. She’s the smartest person I know, and lucky for me, she’s family.

“And what about you? How’s your schedule looking?” I ask. “I know you managed to get all of the psych classes you wanted, but what about your other classes?”

“Mostly good,” she says. “Though, I have to deal with Murkowski again.” She rolls her eyes, and I know exactly why. Professor Murkowski was the only professor who made Scottie take a final in order to get credit for the semester. Every other professor allowed her to keep the grade she had prior to her injury and just gave her some busywork that involved reading and writing a few essays.

Murkowski, though, the hard-ass, had Scottie studying for two weeks straight. Thankfully, she passed, even managed an A, and has zero classes to retake her sophomore year.

And all thanks to a Kelly Financial grant, she also has a scholarship that covers her tuition, housing, and other fees for the next three years.

By the time we reach Zip’s Diner, Scottie is too busy talking about her class schedule to notice all the people who sit inside the restaurant. You can see them all clear as day through the windows, but she’s too busy looking over her shoulder and talking to me.

She’s obsessed. What can I say?

The entire room erupts with “Surprise!” as I push her inside, and a smile lights up her entire face.

Ace and Julia and Kayla and Blake all stand at the front, smiling and laughing when Scottie notices them and starts freaking out.

“What?” she exclaims. “I thought you were all out of town!” She looks over her shoulder and meets my eyes. “This is your doing?”

I grin. “Yep.”

“You’re diabolical.”

“I know.” I wink and lean down to press a kiss to her mouth. “I’m also going to let you know now that this isn’t your actual birthday present from me,” I whisper into her ear, and she tilts her head in confusion. “There’s another surprise for you when we get home tonight. And involves you being gloriously naked.”

The past few weeks have been…a revelation for my girl and me. She’s started to get…feeling…in the best kinds of places, and I’ve pretty much spent the last fourteen days figuring out all the ways that I can make her come. It’s fucking fantastic.

“Finn.” Her cheeks turn red, and I just press a kiss to her lips.

“Happy birthday, Scottie.”

I step back to let everyone come up and hug her and tell her happy birthday. And I’m in awe at everyone who showed up. Scottie’s cheerleading teammates. Her sister and her dad. Her mom, whom she’s been in some contact with lately and is still sober. Both of Ace’s parents and Julia’s parents. My entire family—Winslow and Hayes.

Zip’s Diner is literally packed to the brim.

Julia wheels Scottie over to where her team stands, and music starts to play from the speaker. I look up to find Zip smiling over at me with a thumbs-up. His wife starts to bring out a buffet of burgers and hot dogs and other sides, and a few of his employees have trays of sodas and waters that they set on tables for everyone to grab.

And my girl is smiling like the fucking sun. She looks so damn happy that I have to swallow against the emotion forming moisture in my eyes.

She’s been through so much over these past few months, so to see her now, here, happy and having fun, well, it’s everything to me.

“You pulled it off,” Ace says and claps a hand on my back. “She didn’t have a fucking clue.”

“Nope.” I smile, but my smile turns to confusion when Blake comes over to stand beside us, an angry look on his face.

Ace and I both follow his line of sight to where Lexi stands beside Adam, one of the PTs at Scottie’s long-term rehab clinic, at the other end of the room.

“Who’s that guy?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

“What guy?”

“Seriously?” he questions, frustrated, and Ace laughs. “The one talking to Lexi.”

“You’re fucking intense right now, Boden.”

“I don’t care.” He meets my eyes again. “I need to know who he is.”

“He works at the Hodge Clinic, dude. He just came because he’s been working a lot with Scottie.”

Blake nods.

I laugh. “You know you sound a lot like a jealous boyfriend right now, right? For a girl who won’t give you the time of day.”

Blake smiles, the freak. “We must not allow other people’s limited perceptions to define us, Finnley. There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ace asks, and I laugh.

Blake shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m going in.”

“You’re going in? What does that mean?” Ace tosses back, but it’s too late, Blake is already striding across the room and heading straight for Lexi. “What is he doing?”

“I think he’s asking her out.”

“Oh fuck,” Ace mutters. “Why do I feel like he’s going to crash and burn?”

“Because he is,” I say through a laugh.

We both stand there, watching from a distance as Blake interrupts Lexi and Adam’s conversation. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, like he’s nervous as hell, and his hands are joining the party.

Lexi’s face is neutral, hardly offering anything at all. And we’re too far away to hear what she says, but when Blake turns back around and heads in our direction, he has a big-ass smile on his face.

“Holy shit, did she…?” Ace questions, and I shrug.

“I don’t know, man, but he looks thrilled.”

Once Blake is standing right in front of us, he lets out a big sigh of relief.

“So…?” Ace urges, and Blake just shrugs and slides his hands into his jeans pockets.

“I obviously asked her to share our love with the world, and she very graciously said no.”

“What?” I blurt out on a snort. “Get real. You got rejected.”

Ace is nearly wheezing. “Why do you look so happy about that and please, even more than that, why are you talking like a fucking poet tonight?”

Blake smiles. “Because it’s only a matter of time.”

Ace and I both look at each other in confusion.

“Mark my words,” he says. “That girl will be mine.”

I can’t decide if it’s complete delusion on his part or if he actually is in love with Lexi.

“Finn. Help me out here. Bring this man back down to earth.” Ace looks at me again, hoping that I have something to say in this situation.

“Dude, I can’t judge,” I answer honestly. “I spent four weeks in hospital waiting rooms for Scottie.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Blake wraps his arm around my shoulder. “When you know, you fucking know. Right, Finn?”

I look across the room to where Scottie is laughing over something Ace’s dad is telling her. And seeing that joy and smile on her face and knowing how fucking much I love her makes it impossible for me to refute Blake’s claims.

“When you know, you know.”

And, oh baby, do I know.