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BRIANNE
I checked the time on my phone and a current of anxiety flitted up my spine, now that I was aware I only had four more hours left in the day to complete everything I had to do.
It was funny, people in my social circle generally thought I was pretty carefree and relaxed, probably because I tended to be quiet and bitingly sarcastic. They didn’t know it was all a façade for the pressure I felt every single day.
Why? It was all because of my parents. My parents were the main reason my sister and I had turned out the way we had. It was so hard for me to imagine life any other way.
They’d made me double major in music and marketing. I’d originally just wanted to do music, but they’d said that wouldn’t be enough for me to find a job. Music wasn’t “useful” on its own, they’d said. And when I’d suggested minoring in music—as much as the thought pained me—they’d said I couldn’t do that, either, because what if I had the opportunity to become a renowned violinist one day?
It almost made me hate playing the violin. Almost.
But no, music was my sanctuary. The world of the sheet music and notes and brilliant auburn color of my violin was a world I could spend hours in. I entered what they called a “flow” state and just lost myself.
But there wasn’t much time for me to practice. I could only do the bare minimum because my marketing homework and group projects took up too much of my time. It was a good thing I was decent at time management, otherwise, I’d be screwed.
My phone pinged at me, and I picked it up to see that I’d received a text, reminding me that we were supposed to be meeting for someone’s birthday in an hour at the King’s Tooth. I couldn’t even remember who, and the text didn’t say.
Shit. I knew I’d promised them all I’d be there, and when I checked my planner, of course, I found that I’d already written it in. So I had no excuse. Except that I really, really needed to finish up my part of this marketing project and send it in to my group members by midnight.
That was one thing I hated about being in the business program. Way too many group projects. And the problem wasn’t even that there were slackers—it was that no one was a slacker. In fact, it seemed like people used group projects to show off, so I had to put extra effort in. It was exhausting, but I supposed they were getting us prepared for corporate life.
I wasn’t sure I was cut out for corporate life, but it didn’t seem like I had many options, unless I magically became a professional violin player after all. You couldn’t do that unless you were excellent, and I doubted I was good enough. I mean, I knew I was talented, but I wasn’t next level. Certainly not the next Lindsey Stirling.
I sighed and opened up Powerpoint so I could finish my slides. We were supposed to come up with an advertising campaign for a fictional company, and as I diligently filled out my slides and added notes, I found my enthusiasm for the project waning.
I’d thought I’d enjoy the advertising course because I loved graphic design and video and the concept of putting together a whole plan that used all these elements. But the problem was that we were never advertising anything particularly interesting. This fictional company produced toothpaste. Again, they were trying to make the business school experience mimic the real corporate experience, where you wouldn’t necessarily get to work with things that were interesting.
I thought they could have cut us a little slack here, though. At least let us advertise a fake winery or pet store or something.
I got it done with some time to spare, though I was painfully aware that I hadn’t done my études, and I couldn’t do them after I came back from Kings Tooth (if I even did come back) because I didn’t want to wake up my roommate with my music. So I’d have to do a double round of études tomorrow, before studying for the quiz on Friday…
Life was difficult for me right now. I closed my laptop and checked myself in the mirror, deciding to change into a nicer dress. I had a bit of an image to uphold, after all.
As I walked to the bar, or pub, rather, I thought about Kaitlyn’s street performance group. I’d been kinda rude to her when I’d met her, which honestly wasn’t unusual for me. I didn’t necessarily like being such a prickly person, but it was just the way I interacted with the world. Kaitlyn had seemed too cool and carefree, and in a way, I guess I found that threatening. And I had to admit, I’d been jealous of the fact that she was so… free.
I still was. Kaitlyn was a bit of a nomad, and she didn’t have a college degree. She could literally move anywhere and do whatever she wanted to do, and I simply couldn’t imagine life ever being like that for me. On the other hand, she didn’t seem to have financial security, which was a priority for me—drilled into my head by my parents.
I supposed people had different life paths with pros and cons. It didn’t stop me from yearning for something different, though.
Even though it was a Wednesday—or maybe because it was hump day—it seemed like half the population of Beasley was at the bar. I made my way to the back and found my friends, who were all gathered around a large booth table.
The birthday girl was Miriam, who I suddenly felt guilty for forgetting about. She and I were usually pretty close, but I’d been so busy lately that I’d forgotten. It was a weird and unpleasant feeling to realize I’d completely forgotten about it. I really did have too much on my plate.
“Happy birthday, Miriam!” I said, bending down so I could hug her awkwardly. She was already pretty drunk and kissed me on the cheek, which was cute—she was often affectionate like that.
“Thanks for coming out,” she said, beaming at me, and I was suddenly glad I’d decided to leave my house after all. Maintaining social connections was important.
Of course, my parents never failed to remind me of that, either. They were very aware of how important networking was, especially at such a prestigious place like Beasley.
But no—I wanted friends, real friends. People you could count on emotionally, not people you could count on for a corporate job years down the line.
I took a seat at the already crowded table and someone handed me a glass of beer poured from a pitcher. I knew as soon as I arrived here that I wouldn’t be getting any more work done today, and I’d already sent in the group project stuff, so I tipped the glass to my lips and took a deep swig.
