Page 109 of The Has-Been

“Are you certain about this?” Sarah, my advisor, says, her brows furrowed as she removes her glasses.

“Yeah. This is what I want...” I say proudly, forcing myself to find her eyes. I can tell she’s worried about me. I guess any advisor would be if a student who’s been doing anything to graduate only a semester behind decided to change his entire academic direction.

But I’ve given it a lot of thought over the past month, and I know it is the right choice.

Surprisingly, when I told Jasmine everything that happened over Thanksgiving, she was very supportive of my plan to change my major.

A Doctor of Orthopedic Medicine—not even I thought I’d be saying that.

But recently, Jasmine and I have been turning our focus to a new future—not on coping with the past, as it seems I’ve come to terms with it.

And this future, becoming a doctor and helping heal athletes—this was something I considered before college, thinking more so along the lines of Physical Therapy—but I’ve given it a lot of consideration, and this is where my heart lies.

In helping people heal.

I think about Doctor Shannon’s words to me so long ago: “If I could fix you, I would. But I can’t, kid. And I’m sorry for that.”

At the time, I didn’t think much about his words to me. Now, though, they hit differently, strike something within that I didn’t consider before. I can still picture the tears glistening in his eyes, like he had failed me as much as my leg had.

I think maybe he understood what I was going through on a personal level—that he wanted to help me heal just as badly as I wanted to be healed.

One day, I hope to be that person for someone else.

To treat when I can—but to also understand when there is more than just an injury needing remedied. This is the new future Liam Anderson wants—that I want.

“A doctor,” Sarah chuckles. And I swear I can see tears sparkling behind her eyes. “You know, the first time I sat down with you, when you were just a senior in high school, you wanted to go into Physical Therapy. I told you that the class schedule and clinicals didn’t align, and you were so quick to change your mind—willing to do any degree as long as you could play on the hockey team.” I look away, nodding my head, knowing the exact day she’s referring to. “And now you’re changing to a full doctorate. I can’t believe it. I’m so proud of you.”

Dreams do have a way of changing.

But change is good. Change is healthy.

Change is human.

“I always enjoyed working with athletes. But I’ve realized what I really want is to help people heal, to fix. Life is messy, but being able to put things back together with my hands, to change and improve people’s quality of life after injury, that is the part I’m more interested in. I think I’ve found my purpose, Sarah—it was in front of me this whole time. I just wasn’t ready to see it.”

She wipes at her face.

I can’t say I know Sarah well enough for her to be crying for me, but I feel as if she cares for all her students this way, wanting them to be successful and happy during their time in Delleth, and wherever life takes them beyond here.

“I guess, you’ll be seeing a bit more of me then,” I say as I crack a smile.

“It appears that way, Mr. Anderson.” She grins, nodding. “I’ll file the paperwork. Everything should be ready to go by the start of this semester in January.”

I stand to leave, but she calls out before I get to the door.

“Mr. Anderson—” I turn. “Delleth College is proud to have you back,” she says, mirroring the exact words she first spoke to me in the fall.

But I know this time, they hold a far different meaning.

“It’s good to be back,” I admit before waving goodbye.

I pick up my phone, desperate to share the news. I know she won’t answer. I’ve sent her countless text messages and voice memos. Little updates. Things as simple as what I ate for lunch that day, what music I’m listening to.

Hell, I even confessed to her that I rewatch Titanic every weekend.

It’s become my comfort movie, something I put on whenever I’m thinking of her.

She never responds, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.