Page 19 of Notes About Vodka

"Fine, but seriously Laura, he’s staring at you like he’s going to devour you."

I blush, and when I look over my shoulder, Val’s dark eyes are boring into mine. I can’t tell if he’s angry or extremely turned on from my earlier moped escapade.

After class, Rhea nudges me as we pack up. "Library? We have to hit those review questions before stats."

I hesitate, feeling the weight of my backpack and the tug of indecision. "I… I think I’m going to head out for a bit. I need some fresh air."

Rhea stops in her tracks, frowning. "Fresh air? Laura, we have so much to get through. If we don’t finish, we are going go fail statistics and we both need to pass, especially if you want to go to medical school."

"I know, I know," I say, trying to sound convincing. "I’ll catch up with you later, I promise. I just need a little space to clear my head."

Rhea narrows her eyes but sighs in resignation. "Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re cramming at midnight."

"Deal," I reply, managing a small smile as I turn and head out of the building.

Instead of heading straight home or to the library, I find myself drawn to Central Park. The city feels alive today, the sun shining down warmly and the buzz of people filling the air.

I park Buddy near an entrance and wander until I find a quiet spot on the grass. The air smells faintly of blooming flowers and hot pretzels from a nearby vendor. Around me, the park hums with life—children laughing as they chase each other, dogs barking at passing squirrels, and musicians strumming guitars for a scattered audience. Finding a patch of sunlight, I sit down and pull out my notebook and laptop, spreading out my work in front of me as a soft breeze rustles the pages. The distant hum of conversations blends with the rhythmic clack of a jogger’s shoes on a nearby path. A sparrow hops close to inspect my bag, its tiny chirps adding to the symphony of the park.

For the next few hours, I lose myself in my assignments. First, there’s chemistry—balancing equations and trying tomake sense of the lab results from last week. The complexity of the calculations pulls me in, each balanced equation feeling like a tiny victory. Then I tackle my statistics problems, piecing together formulas and diagrams that blur together after a while but leave me with a sense of accomplishment when the answers finally click. World history follows, a brief dive into an essay about post-war reconstruction, the details of which feel heavy yet fascinating. Finally, literature. I scribble notes on a poem we’re analyzing, my thoughts jumping between themes and metaphors as I try to weave together a coherent argument for my class discussion. It’s a lot, but the sunshine and open air make it feel manageable, almost therapeutic.

By the time I glance at my phone, it’s already late afternoon. A few texts from Rhea pop up, asking if I’m okay and reminding me about the library. I hesitate, staring at the messages, feeling a small pang of guilt. The reminder of my responsibilities tugs at me, but so does the overwhelming need to be alone.

The thought of diving back into the noise of the library, even with Rhea, feels suffocating right now. I can’t explain it—it’s not that I don’t want to see her, but being surrounded by people, expectations, and deadlines makes me crave this rare moment of peace even more. It’s not avoidance, I tell myself, it’s survival. She’s right—I should be there. But the thought of being surrounded by people, even Rhea, feels suffocating right now.

I need this moment of solitude, a rare chance to breathe and let the sun and open air clear my head. I type back quickly,

Me: I’m good, just needed a break. I’ll catch you later.

Packing up my things, I make my way back to campus. The thought of Val lingers in my mind, but I push it aside as I enterthe music building. The sound of pianos and violins fill the halls, a comforting vibration resonates down the hallways, it feels like church back home.

I head to an empty practice room, where a grand piano waits under the soft glow of a single light.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down and let my fingers hover over the keys. The first notes of a piece I’ve been working on flow out, hesitant at first, then stronger. As the sound fills the room, I feel a deep sense of release—like I’m peeling away the weight of the day. Every note resonates with a part of me I can’t quite express in words, grounding me while also letting my emotions soar.

The stress of unfinished assignments, the lingering tension from the morning, all of it seems to dissolve as the melody flows. This is where I feel in control, where my world narrows to just the keys and the music, creating order from chaos. A familiar warmth spreads through me, easing the tension in my shoulders. Everything else fades away as I get lost in the sheet music. It’s challenging—an advanced composition for my theory class—but the satisfaction of getting it right keeps me focused.

Even though piano is just a hobby, it’s been my one lifelong constant.

By the time I’m done, the sun has set, and the city outside glows with the golden hues of streetlights.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since morning. I gather my things and head out, the hum of the day still buzzing in my chest.

Scootering back to the apartment, I let the cool night air wash over me and through my polka dotted helmet.

When I finally walk through the door, the familiar chaos of home greets me. The scent of popcorn wafts from the kitchen, and faint music filters through Rhea’s headphones. Skipper is sprawled on the couch with a textbook, absentmindedly flipping pages while tapping his pen against the cushions. Rhea sits at the dining table, her laptop glowing in the dim light.

As I close the door behind me, they both glance up as I enter.

Removing her headphones, Rhea asks, "And where have you been?"

"Told you. Just… around," I say, dropping my bag by the door and heading to the kitchen. "Needed a day to myself."

Skipper snorts. "Translation Rhea, she’s been avoiding us."

"Guilty," I admit with a laugh. "But I promise, I’m back now."

Rhea shakes her head, but there’s no real annoyance in her expression. "You’re lucky you’re cute and charming, you know that? Right?”

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