A Fresh Start

"Nadia... Nadia."

I open my eyes, staring up at the ceiling of our bedroom. I was already awake before Damien called my name, but I don't want him to know just how nervous I am. I don't want him to know I've barely slept at all.

"Good morning, love." My husband leans over from the left side of the bed to plant a soft kiss on my cheek.

I let out a soft sigh, rolling onto my side to meet his gaze. Even in the dim, early-morning lighting of the room, I can easily make out the depths of color in his hazel-brown eyes. If I concentrate I can imagine it's one of the days they look more green.

His eyes narrow as his dark eyebrows furrow together. "Nadia...? You haven't said anything."

"Ah, sorry, morning," I quickly mumble out, finally pulling my gaze away from his eyes. "I was just getting a bit distracted."

"Aw... Were you lost in my eyes again?" His teasing tone sweeps over my whole body, bringing heat to the surface of my skin.

To avoid answering his question, I push myself up. It amazes me sometimes that Damien can still pull these reactions out of me even after six years of marriage. I rub the sleep out of my eyes with my fingers and look into my reflection in the mirror at the end of the bed. My hair is sticking out in every direction; a frizzy, mousy brown mess.

As I get out of the bed and move silently to the dresser, I hear Damien sit up behind me. "Today's the big day, huh? How do you feel?"

My body stiffens, and I pause in opening the drawers. "...I don't want to do this."

"What? But you've been talking about this for months, ever since you got accepted!" There's a creak of the bed, then a few seconds later tanned arms encircle my waist. "I think you're just nervous, baby."

"It's just... I haven't stepped foot in a school in almost 12 years... I didn't even properly finish high school, and now I'm going to college as a 30-year-old freshman. Somehow being in the workforce, dealing with petty coworkers, doesn't compare to the nerves I feel right now."

Damien gently kisses the side of my neck and then my shoulder. "Just take it one day at a time. You're there to get an education and have a chance to provide better for Gracie."

"What if I don't finish in time?" I worry. "What if I have to take extra time and then end up in college at the same time as my own daughter?"

He turns me around and captures my face in his hands. Resting his forehead against mine, he requests, "Please just breathe, Nadia. Breathe with me."

I follow his request, closing my eyes and focusing on the sound of our breathing, on the warmth of his hands on my skin. After a few moments, I feel my heart rate slow, and my body stops shaking.

When I open my eyes again, Damien offers me a gentle smile, and he tucks my hair behind my ear. "There. That's better, yeah?"

I nod against him, hugging him close and resting my chin on his shoulder. "Thanks, love."

"You got it. Now, go get 'em, tiger!"

I pull back with a surprised chuckle and roll my eyes. "Moment, ruined."

"But it got you to laugh, didn't it?" He raises his eyebrows proudly.

"Yes, you cheeseball. Now, I'll get Gracie, and we can have some breakfast."

Damien and I leave our room, and he turns toward the kitchen while I head the other way toward Gracie's room. Knowing her, she's probably barely slept either, because it's her first day of school too. She's just moved to the middle school this year, so we're both freshman, in a way.

I rap my knuckles on the wood of the door. "Gracie, sweetie, are you awake?"

"Yeah, Mom, and I'll be out in a few minutes."

I know that tone. It's her "leave me alone" tone, and I know better than to push her when she doesn't want to talk. "Okay. We'll have breakfast ready for you."

Damien is starting to pour pancakes into a griddle when I reach the kitchen. I don't know how he whipped up the batter so fast, but then, that's a master chef for you. I've long since stopped asking him to make fancy breakfasts for us, knowing that he'll do it regardless.

Gracie creeps in a few minutes later, quiet as a mouse. She sits down, and doesn't say anything as she's served her food. We don't take offense to this, knowing she's just stressed and it isn't personal. Damien and I make small talk until it's time to go.

Despite myself, I feel my heart rate pick up again. This is the start of something new that could go really well, or very poorly.

Just before I get out the door, I hear someone clear their throat, and turn to see Damien holding a travel canister out to me. "Coffee," he explains, answering my unvoiced question, "to get you through the day since you didn't sleep."

I feel my cheeks warm again, and I softly mumble, "You knew?"

"Of course I knew. I've known you for eight wonderful years. I know everything about you."

"You're lucky you're my husband, or that would be very creepy." I can't help but smile.

"Yes, I'm very lucky I'm your husband."

His cheesy comment embarrasses me again, and I quickly thank him for the coffee and head out of the apartment.

The bus ride to the campus is noisy, busy, and cramped. It seems many students are taking the bus today. I hold my canister of coffee to my chest, trying to keep it safe. I'm quite used to the enclosed spaces of city buses, but the jostling is setting me more on edge today.

By the time the bus reaches my stop, I'm nearly hyperventilating, but I picture Damien's eyes in my mind and feel myself begin to calm down. I practice my deep breathing exercises as I step down off the bus.

The campus is relatively small. I chose this campus because it's close to our home, and I was able to get financial aid for this institution. Their business program and history programs are the best in the state as well, so I'm hoping that I can do well here and get my dreams off the ground.

Around me, young students are making their way to the entrance, already in groups of friends and chatting excitedly. I know they're not actually looking at me, but it feels like there's a million targets on my back.

Slut. Bitch. You'll never amount to anything. You can't do anything with your life now.

Those haunting words suddenly resurface in my head, creeping in like the shadow of an old friend. Dark, heavy energy clinging to my clothes like fog. I try to shake it off, try to tell myself that one situation doesn't define me, like I was taught in therapy. But being back in a school setting is bringing all those emotions and memories back to the surface.

To distract myself, I open my canister of coffee and take a sip. It's made perfectly, just the way I like it. It's a reminder that no matter what, there are people who love me. People who know me inside and out, who care about me implicitly.

My balance is suddenly thrown when someone's bag catches on mine and pulls me forward, but my attention is on the wet, dark stain that is now spreading out through the fabric of my shirt.

"Oh, no, damn. I'm so, so sorry," a man's voice says.

I sigh, leaning down to unhook our bags. My eyes land on the man's shoes, polished and sleek, and I feel my eyebrow quirk up. As I'm digging through my bag for a tissue, I say, "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

A handkerchief appears in front of my face, and I take it without looking up. However, my eyes are drawn to initials stitched into the corner of the handkerchief, and my whole body suddenly feels heavy.

G.R. Those initials, and this handkerchief, are all too familiar to me. I tell myself that it can't be the same person, yet I find myself too nervous to stand.

"Are... are you okay down there? You haven't stood up yet."

Breathe, Nadia. Breathe.

Damien's voice sounds in my head, and I follow the instructions and stand. "I'm fine, thank you."

I still avoid looking at the man, focusing my attention on dabbing at the coffee stain on my shirt. I can see the man trying to get in my line of sight, to make eye contact with me, and I quickly try to thrust the handkerchief back at him.

"Thank you," I say again, trying to walk away as quickly as possible.

A hand suddenly catches my arm and I freeze. As soon as I've stopped moving, the hand lets go.

“I know you, don't I?"

I try to swallow, but there's a lump in my throat. "I don't know. This is my first time here, so probably not."

"No, I know you..." There's a pause, and then a few grueling seconds tick by until he says, "Nadia...?"

My eyes feel hot, but I know there's no avoiding this now. With my heart in my throat, I turn around to face him.

Grayson Reynolds. He looks almost exactly the same as he did in high school. His wavy hair a beach-blonde color that many would love to have. His eyes, the same striking blue, though there are some hints of crow's feet starting to form at the edges. Some slight wrinkles have started to show years of laughter around his mouth, and I almost feel jealous, wishing I could've laughed enough to have those same lines.

"Wow, it's a shock to see you here," he comments, standing with his arms crossed. "I haven't seen you since... Well, it's been years. How are you? What brings you here?" Without letting me answer, he continues, "Are you also a teacher? But I haven't heard that we were getting any new faculty members..."

"Grayson," I interrupt quickly. "I'm just here as a student. I don't want to be late for my first class, so please excuse me."

"O-Oh, okay."

I can see in his eyes that he still wants to catch up sometime, but I turn away from him before he can say anything that might lead to us meeting up again later. I shoulder my bag and hurry off.

Instead of looking for my classroom, however, I find the nearest bathroom and plant myself in front of the counter. In the mirror, I can see the panic in my eyes. But I try to take deep breaths again, to calm down.

Of all people to see here, it had to be him.

Slut.

"Shut up..." I mumble under my breath, fighting back tears that are trying to form.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A girl's voice next to me makes me jump, and I quickly turn to see two nearly black eyes looking at me inquisitively. Then they move down to the stain on my shirt and widen.

"Oh my gosh, your shirt! What happened?"

I don't know why this girl is nosing into my business. I just want to get away, make the day end faster.

"You can't go to your classes like that, sis! I think we're the same size. Here, you can borrow my extra shirt!"

I snap back to reality, registering what she said. "What? No, that's okay. And... how did you know I was a student?"

She tilts her head, pink lips pulling into something between a frown and a pout. "It's obvious? At least to me, anyway." She fishes in her bag, pulling out the shirt she was talking about. "I'm Louise, by the way. I always carry an extra shirt because I'm a klutz and spill things on myself all the time." Her voice gets higher as she lets out a self-deprecating laugh.

"I-I'm Nadia." I still feel a little uncomfortable accepting a stranger's shirt, but her kindness is helping me calm down, and she keeps insisting with her eyes as she pushes the shirt toward me. "Th-thanks..."

I take the shirt, still wondering why she's doing this and why I'm accepting her help, and head into a stall to change. While I'm in there, she continues to talk.

"Did you spill that on yourself or did someone spill it on you?"

The memories flash through my head and I feel myself tense up again. "S-Someone bumped me..."

"Oh, man, I hate that. People are always in a rush, y'know?" I can hear her popping gum that I didn't realize before that she was chewing. "Did they at least offer to help?"

The handkerchief and its stitched initials. "Yes."

"That's good, at least!"

"It was my ex." I suddenly find myself needing to let out the truth. "I haven't seen him since we broke up."

Louise's voice is right on the other side of the door, and she softly asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

I'm done changing now, and when I open the stall door, she jumps back to avoid falling over or bashing her forehead against mine. It doesn't faze her, as she quickly gives me a once-over.

"That shirt looks hot on you, sis. You should keep it!"

"I couldn't possibly." I look at my reflection. This isn't something I'd normally wear, and it's a bit out of my comfort zone. But it's better than going to classes with a stained shirt on the first day.

"Please do!"

She’s insistent again, and seems to not want to take no for an answer. Despite myself, I let out a laugh. She reminds me of who I used to be before all the mess.

"I... okay. But I'll get you something in return."

"How about we meet at the library today, if you have time!" she suggests, her smile bright. "We can study together about anything and that can be paying me back! I'm a terrible studier."

I check my phone. This whole ordeal has left me only five minutes to get to my first class. Wanting to get this over with, I quickly trade numbers with her and run off to the lecture.

I'm now regretting not taking a tour of the campus before, because I have absolutely no idea where I'm going. After many wrong turns and asking for directions multiple times, I arrive at class five minutes late. I try to keep my head down and find a seat.

The professor is still taking attendance, but he seems none too impressed by my tardiness. During the syllabus review, he makes a pointed glance at me while mentioning that tardiness will not be tolerated after the first week of classes.

I feel my anxiety creeping back in, and with it, come the painful words and accusations that always lurk in my brain.

Failure. Give up. You can't do it.

I try to shut it out and focus on the lecture.

By the time my classes are over, I'm thoroughly exhausted. I just want to leave and never return, but I've committed myself to this. This is only the first day.

As I'm walking out of the campus, I hear a familiar voice behind me calling out my name, and I freeze up again.

Why is he still here? Why does he have to find me at the end of the day? Can't anything go right today?

"Nadia! Wait up!"

I walk faster, pretending not to hear Grayson behind me, but his long legs quickly let him catch up to me. Within seconds he's falling into step alongside me.

"How was your first day of classes?"

"Please, I don't want to talk right now."

He leans forward as he walks, tilting his head to make eye contact with me. "Can we talk later?"

Something inside me breaks. Nothing was his fault but the emotions surge to the surface. "Grayson. I don't want to be around you."

The hurt expression on his face makes my heart ache, but I ignore it. "Wh-why...? What did I do?"

"You have no idea what happened to me after we split. I know I broke up with you. I never told you the reason. But... people were so awful to me and I was ostracized."

Hurt switching to confusion, he stops walking. "What...? Tell me why now, then."

"I... I can't."

"Mom!"

My blood runs cold, and I turn to see Gracie coming up to us.

"They kicked me out for my spaghetti straps!" She rolls her eyes. "Damien is at work, so I came here instead." Noticing Grayson, she says, "Mom, who's this?"

Grayson looks back and forth between the two of us, and I can see the gears turning in his head. They have the same blond hair. The same blue eyes. The same dimple when they smile. They look so alike it would be impossible to not notice.

Let's just rip the Band-aid off.

With a sigh, I say, "Gracie, this is Grayson. Your biological father."