Chapter 5: Survival in the City

I went silent with Mrs. Fields—leaving early, coming home late, barely speaking. The tension in our tiny room was suffocating, like thunder before a storm.

I used to think college was my ticket out, but Columbia felt like another world. I was the outsider—the country girl in a sea of city kids. Everyone seemed polished, sipping iced coffee and talking about indie films and art exhibits. I felt rough and out of place.

My classmates referenced The Republic, Utopia, and Oscar Wao. I had no clue what they were talking about. Their words flew over my head, and I scribbled notes just to keep up.

In high school, I survived by grinding practice tests. But college was a whole new game—abstract concepts, endless lectures. I tried to keep up, but everything blurred together. For the first time, I cried in the bathroom, biting my fist to muffle the sound.

A classmate suggested I check out online resources, but I was the only one without a laptop. Even if I had one, I wouldn’t know where to start. I felt stranded, like a tourist in my own life.

Bills piled up, and my stomach growled in the library. I counted coins for coffee, wishing for a break.

There were plenty of restaurants near campus. I went door to door, asking for temp work. "Sorry, we’re not hiring," they’d say. "We need someone with experience." I begged, offering to work for half pay, but they just shook their heads. I walked home in the rain more than once, feeling smaller every time.

Life felt like a roller coaster—up one day, crashing down the next. I tried to hold onto hope, but it slipped through my fingers.

One night, Trevor called, asking for money. He said he needed a laptop, books, and tuition. My heart clenched—old memories of tutoring him and his mom’s warnings flashed through my mind.

"Your mom gave my tuition money to you. I’m still short—how can you ask me for more?" My voice shook, tired and angry.

Trevor snapped, "We’re supposed to help each other. You’ve changed since leaving town. You just want to spend a man’s money, don’t you?" His words cut deep, and I felt old resentment boil up.

I hung up, breathing out in relief. The silence was almost peaceful.

Every day, I trudged to class or the library, sometimes staying late at the computer lab. I’d come home to a dark dorm, the city lights outside feeling a million miles away.

Mrs. Fields’s voice would drift from the shadows, startling me. She’d sit in the corner, barely visible.

"Back so late—were you working?"

"No." I dropped my backpack, not caring anymore.

Her tone sharpened: "Then what are you running around for? Seeing someone?" She leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

I was exhausted, too tired to argue. I collapsed onto the bed, springs groaning.

She pressed, "Tell me the truth—did you do something to let Trevor down?" Her words echoed in the small room, heavy and suffocating.

I turned away, wishing for silence.

"If you’re not working, are you trying to starve me?" Her voice was shrill in the quiet. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for morning, wondering how much longer I could survive.