Page 7 of Academically Yours

Either way, at least it was all mine. No more sharing, thank goodness. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to describe what had compelled me to leave a good-paying corporate job to become a professor, but I did know that I loved every minute of it.It was fulfilling, even if I felt like there was still a hole in my heart where another person should be.

Despite sometimes getting the reputation of being a bit of a grump, I tried to care for each one of my students. I wanted them to succeed. I was just serious, and I never wanted to mix my personal life into class. It wasn’t important, and if being grumpy kept my students from hitting on me or wanting more from me, well, then… It worked.

As the evening wound down, I finished working on some presentations to show in class before finally calling it a night and heading back to my house right off-campus.

Snowball was waiting by the front door, tail wagging as she waited for me to take her out. “Hey pup,” I called out as I dropped my briefcase to scratch at her ears. “Give me a moment and then I’ll take you out, okay?”

I looked at the time on my watch. Ten-thirty. Enough time to get to sleep and still wake up early for the gym tomorrow with the guys. Luckily, the only class I taught on Fridays was in the afternoon, so I had the morning off to get things done before I had to drive to school. But tomorrow—tomorrow I was going to make plans. I hadn’t seen my best friends in weeks, and if I was being honest with myself, I had hardly been present in their lives the last two years while I threw myself into being a full-fledged professor. As the semester started, a lot of my free time that I usually spent with them was dedicated to assignments and lesson plans and grading.

Snowball sat at my feet, her tail wiggling expectantly, and I couldn’t help but smile at my dog. “You ready, huh girl?”

I clipped Snowball’s leash to her collar and ushered her out the door, around the block of the neighborhood. I purchased a house in University Park this past summer, finally setting down roots somewhere. It was nice to finally have a place I could call my own, no roommates to bother me or anyone to trash the place with parties. It was just me and Snowball in my little starter house. Just like I wanted it, right? That’s what I had always thought, at least.

Tessa got Snowball for me a few years ago, delivering her to me on Christmas—adorned with a big red bow around her neck. She simply informed me that I was sad and needed company besides myself. Which, to be fair, was probably true. During my time in investment banking, I had always been too busy to have a social life. I had barely kept in contact with Bryan, Cole, and Tanner. But my little sister’s Christmas gift also presented me with the perfect travel buddy in that little white fluffy puppy, who had since turned into an excessively big white fluff monster, the 40-something pound dog that took up half of my bed every night.

But my sister may have been onto something when she gave her to me because Snowball really had made my life better in more ways than I could have ever expected.

I watched my dog as we walked through the neighborhood, and I pulled my coat tighter against me. It was a chilly night, even for January in Portland, so I was grateful for the extra warmth of my thick jacket and scarf. Snowball didn’t seem to mind, though, thanks to her thick fur coat.

“You’re lucky, Snowball,” I muttered. “You don’t have to layer up to stay warm.”

I loved having a dog. We had one when I was younger, a husky, but after he passed away when I was fourteen, my parents had never gotten another pet. And then at nineteen, they were gone too, and I had enough on my plate to handle without getting Tessa and me a pet while I was in college and she lived with our grandparents.

But now, as she loved to remind me, I was a grown-ass adult, and I could do whatever I wanted. Huh. What was even weirder to me was the realization that she, too, was a grown adult—twenty-two and living on her own. In New York.

I made my way back to the house, letting Snowball guide us through the frosty night air.

And I thought to myself, you know, despite everything, life had a way of surprising you sometimes. Just like how the random ray of sun could bring a smile to her face… This moment made me feel blissfully content, just inhaling the cold, clean air as I stared up at the moon. And it was a reminder that even throughout everything—life could still be good.