My mom’s breath shudders, and she wipes her index finger under her eyes. The tears are still in the corners when she stands and says, “Harbor, you’re young, and you’re having big emotions. We understand—”

“No, you don’t,” I say, anger tingeing my words. “I’m going to marry her. I swear to you I’m going to marry Lark one day, and then what will that debt mean? Nothing because I would have paid it off with one of my trust funds. I’m just asking for access sooner to help us stay together in the meantime.”

The room goes quiet, and my mom sits down. I return, gripping the back of the chair as silence extends and tension is thick in the air.

Taking a deep breath, I calmly say, “The closer we get to graduation, the more stress she’s under. She’s lost weight, and some days, I don’t think she remembers to eat lunch. I know she wouldn’t remember dinner if I weren’t there to remind her.” I drop my head down, unable to look them in the eyes as shame becomes my last resort. “I’m asking you, begging you, to please help.”

The warmth of my mom’s hand covers mine, and then she comes around and gives me a hug. I don’t know what to make of it—her being my mom or will they tell me what I want to hear?

My dad rocks forward in his chair, and says, “I’m sorry, Harbor. You’re conflating two different issues as if they’re one and the same. Your love for Lark shouldn’t change whether she attends medical school. If that’s what your relationship is based on—”

“It’s not.”

Dad stands, his fingers pressed to the wood desktop. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of us. We won’t pay for her school. There’s nothing reasonable about asking us to do so either.”

I raise my head, my stubborn side coming out. I have nothing to lose at this point. “You’re saying no?”

“We are, honey,” my mom replies softly, trying to temper our flaring moods.

“Then trade me. Mine for hers.”

37

Lark

Two months later . . .

Harbor’s been adjusting my graduation cords as if they needed to be.

They don’t.

But I’m not going to say anything because I’ve become his sun and he, my moon. We can’t stray far from each other’s personal space before our gravitational pull brings us back into orbit.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s why I’m going to New Haven with him. Yale awaits. We found a cute apartment just off campus, so we can walk to school together, and it’s not a journey too far home when we stay late at night.

I’m so grateful that things worked out how they were supposed to. If I hadn’t received that letter from Yale, telling me they took another look at my application during a holistic review, and

Home . . . Harbor.

No apartment or house can be what he means to me, but I still look forward to our little haven together.