I’m sure my expression does nothing to hide my shock. The idea of Alex Aquino—near billionaire, tech scion, arrogant asshole—having an unfulfilled dream is wild to me. But of course he did. Doesn’t everyone?
Then I wonder:Doeseveryone?
Is that why I’m back here? Because I lived my first life in a manner that ignored any unfulfilled dreams I had based on the assumption that everyone did that to some extent and I should suck it up and continue down the path I had set myself on?
Was this actually an unfulfilled dream of his or was it just a dream he outgrew?
“I know it’s silly—”
“It’s not silly,” I insist. “Not at all. You should pursue film if that’s your dream.”
I force myself not to say anything else. I wouldn’t want to sway him too much. On the one hand, I wouldloveto live in a world where Alex Aquino becomes a struggling film director, not evil incarnate. On the other hand, it feels rude to mess with his future like that.
And yet…
Tempting.
Eh, who am I kidding? Eighteen-year-old Alex is sweet, but that doesn’t change the man he’ll become, and I’m not sure being a filmmaker would make him any different. It’s pretty widely known that a lot of filmmakers are the worst. The Alex I remember would fit right in.
“What areyoudoing here, Ms. Pre-Law?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk to block out the rest of the room.
“I’m switching majors,” I tell him matter-of-factly. Like it’s no big deal.
“To what?” he asks, surprised.
I shrug. “I’m trying a few things out. We’ll see what sparks joy.”
I consider admitting that he’s the one who inspired this change but decide to keep that my little secret. He leans back and regards me as if seeing me in a new light.
“Keep me posted on how that goes. Who knows, maybe we’ll both love this class and become filmmakers.”
He says it so easily, without a shred of irony or doubt, as if the difference between a future where we’re both filmmakers—a career that I, a person with almost zero understanding of the film industry, am well aware is hard to make it in—and a future where we aren’t is really as simple as us deciding if we want it or not. As if every possible version of his life is his for the taking—he just has to decide which one to reach out and grab.
I wonder if he’s ever experienced a shred of self-doubt in his life.
Unlikely.
Maybe I’d do well to try to be a little more like him.
“So? What’d you think?” Alex asks, waggling his eyebrows at me as we exit the classroom.
“Professor Cuellar is very…” I pause, searching for the right word. Professor Cuellar isa lot. High-energy. Passionate. Knowledgeable. The sort of professor who can stand up there and justtalk, who has the ability to go on about his subject for the entire class without once consulting his notes. I don’t think he evenhadnotes.
I have a full page that’s just a list of movies he referenced. He holds film screenings every Sunday; they’re optional, but watching those movies at some point is not. So far, I’ve missedCitizen KaneandSingin’ in the Rain. Luckily, I’ve already seen both, but admittedly, it’s been a minute. This Sunday, they’re screeningDr. Strangelove.
“He’s pretty radical,” Alex tells me.
I snort at the word choice.Radical. Sure, why not?
“Where are you off to?” he asks. “What else did you sign up for to see if it sparks joy?”
I glance up at him as we turn down another hallway and find him looking at me. His eyes shine with mirth, but there’s no mockery there, only genuine curiosity.
“Acting for Non-Majors,” I tell him.
“You’re going to be a double threat, huh? Actress-director? Like Barbra Streisand and Penny Marshall?”
“And Julie Delpy,” I offer.
