Lauren set down the quote she kept framed on her dorm desk and stared at her MacBook, her econ notes blurring in front of her eyes.
A warm breeze raced through the window of Lauren’s dorm room and tousled her blond hair.
She inhaled deeply, the smell of Lake Michigan and the approaching summer air filling her lungs and her room, that sweet perfume of flowers and fresh water, newly cut grass and warmth, that smell of … hope.
She heard playful screams outside and stood, leaning over her desk to study the scene: Her dorm on Northwestern University’s campus looked out at the lake and student beach. Even though the breeze off the water was still a bit chilly, boys played Frisbee without shirts and girls in bikini tops soaked up some rays.
There was something about the simple scene, of her fellow students enjoying a day free of care, which caused Lauren to stand, yank off her purple Wildcat hoodie, and walk over to the painting easel she had perched by her desk.
She lifted her brush.
“Ice cream!”
Lauren jumped, as her roommate twirled into the room like a tornado, dark curly hair flying, carrying two ice cream cones.
“I thought we could use these,” Lexie said, speaking even faster than her typical New York style, “between being stuck inside studying for finals on this gorgeous day and … well, I just found out Josh is playing me again.”
“What?” Lauren nabbed the ice cream from her roommate with one hand and wagged her paintbrush at Lexie with the other. “What did he do this time?”
“I found out that he’s taking Grace to see Beyoncé at the United Center this weekend!”
Lexie licked her cone. “He was supposed to take me!” she said. Her shoulders drooped. “It was supposed to be our last big date before we go home for the summer.”
“Dump the loser,” Lauren said, setting down her brush. “Now!”
Lexie continued to lick her cone, when her brown eyes widened. Lauren knew instantly: Her roommate had a plan.
“Can’t your mom get us tickets to the concert?” she begged. “So we can spy on him?”
Lauren rolled her eyes, took a big bite of her ice cream, and then took a seat on her bed. “She could, technically. But you know she’d never ask. That’s so not her.”
“I can’t believe your mother works for Paparazzi and never uses any of those connections.”
“She just would never take such a risk. I’m sure she’s covering the concert … from her office,” Lauren said, then added, “Lexie, you need to forget about him. He’s not good for you.”
Lexie stood, holding her half-eaten cone in her mouth, and began to text.
“Done!” she said a few seconds later.
“So romantic,” Lauren said, and then began to laugh at her roommate. “By the way, you realize you look like a pregnant kangaroo, right?”
Lexie looked down at her distended belly and laughed, nearly choking on the cone still in her mouth.
“I foo-got,” she mumbled through the ice cream, reaching into the overstuffed pocket of her hoodie to unleash a flood of envelopes and packages onto her bed. “Here. Mail.”
Lauren finished her cone, walked over, and began to rifle through the mail scattered across her roommate’s bed.
With each envelope she opened, her heart closed a little bit more: Notices for internships at Fortune 500 businesses and banks, schedules for on-campus interviews, alerts for job fairs. It was late in the year, and she had ignored every notice. And had yet to tell her mother she was without an internship or job for the summer.
Lauren sighed. “I can’t deal with this,” she said, ducking her head, her blond locks cascading over her face.
“That’s not going to block out the future,” Lexie said. “Why don’t you just tell your mom you’re not happy about your major?”
“You’ve met her,” Lauren said. “Happy hasn’t been an important part of the equation in her life for a while now.”
“If you’re unhappy now,” Lexie said, “just imagine how you’re going to feel in twenty years.”
Lauren sighed.
“Hey, what’s that?” Lexie suddenly asked, pointing at a padded manila envelope on her purple NU comforter.
The envelope had Lauren’s name on it, but she didn’t recognize the labored handwriting at first, until she saw the Michigan return address.
“Grandma!” Lauren said, happily tearing open the envelope to find a card and a little box.
“I bet I know what it is.” Lexie laughed, flopping onto her bed. “Open it.”
Lauren popped open the little box to find a silver charm of a hot air balloon.
“Read it,” Lexie urged.
Lauren smiled, thinking of Lolly. She adored her grandmother—her crazy wigs, her carefree attitude, her love of nature, her fiery spirit.
Lauren opened the card and began to read, her voice becoming emotional the more she read:
This charm is to a life filled with adventure!
Remember … YOLO!
Love,
Grandma
“She knows ‘You Only Live Once’?” Lexie asked, opening her laptop before stopping as her voice cracked. “Your grandmother is so thoughtful. I miss my grandma. I loved her so much.”