Page 5 of Love and Other Chances

“Oh, I do know,” Sofia affirms. “And what about that hot husband of hers?” She waggles her eyebrows, causing me to burst out laughing.

“As far as I know, Mateo’s doing great too,” I say. “He’s fully recovered from his injury. But he’s focusing on the youth soccer program he started instead of playing soccer professionally. I think he’s starting classes towards his master’s degree too, but I’ll have to ask Lana. Now, how areyoudoing? How was your first week of class?”

Sofia fills me in on her start to college and introduces me to the friends she brought with her. Music streams from the meeting room as the band starts playing the first song, so wemake our way into the room.

I take a seat next to a group from AOPi, my old sorority. Although I lead Bible studies with girls from multiple sororities now, old habits die hard. Especially when your sorority pride runs deep, thanks to your best friend being the greatest sorority president ever. No one has been able to live up to Amaya’s legacy, but AOPi is still going strong.

As the meeting winds down, the student emcee shares the final announcements. I steel myself for a lackluster response to the After Party activity. The enthusiastic cheer from the crowd causes me to breathe a sigh of relief. I forget that college students can be pretty easy to please when it comes to social activities.

I make my rounds at the bowling alley, taking time to converse with everyone I know and introducing myself to the new faces. Despite the exhaustion I feel, I maintain my flawless social performance—asking interesting questions, telling funny stories, drawing quieter girls into the conversations, and smiling broadly the entire night.

When I fall into bed at 1:00 a.m., knowing I have to meet Rachel and the senior girls in six hours, the suffocating overwhelm creeps its way into my mind. I push the stifling thoughts away, focusing on Joy’s smile on Sunday and the possibility of making new friends at next week’s social. It’s enough to quiet my mind and to fall into a deep sleep, however short it may be.

I stand in front of my full-length mirror and consider my reflection. A pile of clothes sits discarded on the bed behind me, the collateral damage of finding just the right outfit for my first small group social.

It’s not a church service, so a dress seemed a little too much. But most people my age are working in office buildings, schools, or hospitals. You know, grown-up places of employment. Not hanging out with college students all day. So I’m not quite sure what mypeerswould wear to a casual social gathering.

After cycling through shirt combinations with jean shorts, leggings, and an athletic skirt, I finally settled on a pink sleeveless jumpsuit. It’sairy enough that I won’t get too hot, even in the Kansas heat, and I’m dressing it down with light makeup and tiny rose gold hoop earrings.

I straighten my blonde hair enough to tame the frizz from the lingering summer humidity. It falls to my shoulder blades now, slightly longer than I used to wear it in college. I consider tying half of it back with a bow but decide against it. I’m not sure if mypeersembrace the same style as college girls. Amaya and Lana are too busy revolutionizing the world to give me fashion advice.

Rolling my shoulders back, I lift my chin and meet my own gaze in the mirror, staring directly into my blue eyes. “Let’s do this, Teegan Jones. It’s time to go make friends!”

Ten minutes later, I park in front of the address Joy sent me. There are a few other cars in the driveway and on the street already, assuring me I’ve found the right place. I make my way up to the porch of the remodeled craftsman house. It’s a heck of a lot cuter than the half of a duplex that Gina and I share.

As soon as I set foot on the porch, Joy opens the door and pulls me into a hug.

“Teegan! I’m so glad you’re here! Come in and let me introduce you to everyone,” she exclaims, guiding me through the entryway. In the living room, Joy introduces me to a young married couple and two single guys. I try to remember names, but I know I’m going to need to write them down before the end of the night.

Joy leads me to the kitchen where the snacks and drinks are located. There are three other women filling plates and talking. One woman looks to have come straight from work, dressed in a perfectly-tailored gray pantsuit. Her microlocs look so immaculate that she should be featured in every advertisement for whatever stylist she sees. A second woman is dressed casually in jean shorts and a top, her brown hair pulled back in a low bun, and the redheaded woman is wearing scrubs.

“Hey there, ladies. I want you to meet Teegan!” Joy says. I reach my hand out to each as they introduce themselves—Catherine, Sarah, and Natalie. “Grab some food and get to know each other a little. I’m going to go check in with Caleb.”

I take a Spindrift from the giant bowl filled with ice and various drinks. Sarah, the brunette, hands me a plate, which I begin filling withvegetables, pita bread, and hummus. I start peppering the girls with questions about how long they’ve lived in Brooklyn and what they do for work.

Natalie, the one wearing scrubs, says she works as a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital. Sarah is an office assistant at a pediatric practice, and Catherine works at an engineering firm in town. When they ask what I do, I try to concisely sum up my hard-to-describe job.

“I work with college students full time, meeting with them in small group Bible studies or mentoring them one-on-one to help them grow in their faith,” I explain.

“So is your schedule consistent?” Sarah asks.

“Oh no, each day is a little different. It’s far from a nine-to-five job because everything depends on students’ schedules. I fit in my one-on-one meetings with girls between their class schedules on the weekdays. Most of my small group Bible studies happen in the evenings, and sometimes I hang out socially with students on the weekends to reinforce those relationships. But I do have some consistent blocks in my schedule—staff meetings twice a week plus our weekly large group gathering on Thursday nights,” I expound.

“Wow, I don’t know that I could handle the lack of routine,” Catherine admits. “I need a well-ordered calendar to maintain my sanity. But it sure sounds like a rewarding job!”

I swallow a bite of pita before responding. “It definitely is. I thrive off of spontaneity, so it’s a good fit—most of the time.”

Joy steps up to our group and places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m officially rounding everyone up to the living room. We’re expecting one more person, but we’re going to go ahead and start getting settled.”

We nod and turn to follow her, but Sarah stops me.

“Wait, you have to try one of my chocolate chip oatmeal cookies,” Sarah says, handing me a giant cookie. “I’ve been on a quest to perfect my recipe, and I think this is my best batch yet.”

“Well, feel free to make me your test subject. I love dessert!” I smile and take a bite as she watches for my reaction. I make a big show of swooning over the cookie. “Sogood. I think you’ve achieved cookie perfection, if that’s what you were going for.”

Sarah grins proudly, and I follow her to the front entryway toward the living room. But not before taking another huge bite. I wasn’t overreacting—this cookie really is incredible.

Caleb opens the front door for the final guest, and I’m suddenly choking on that perfect cookie.

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