What I’m Doing with the Rest of my Life

Kelly Engler portrays the role of "Summer" in Applause for a Cause's feature film, Summer's Winter (2013). (Photo: Sam Hazlett)

“So, you’re a senior now, huh?” she asks me, her eyes gleaming with the familiar look of fabricated interest in my life. We’re sitting uncomfortably next to each other at the local nail salon, so I suppose she feels conversing with me is necessary.

“That I am,” I reply bravely, bracing myself for the all-too-obvious follow-up question. I keep my eyes fixated on my manicured fingernails, willing them to dry faster.

“And you’re still doing all that… drama stuff?” she condescends to me, referring to my performing arts experience. She is clearly delaying her inevitable attack, no doubt in order to take me by surprise.

I nod, and with a forced smile, I bite my tongue to repress the snide retort that lurks just behind my lips.

And finally, the inescapable, “What are your plans for after graduation?”

I want to drop to the floor and feign death in order to escape this question, as if I were a small rodent in my last attempt to escape the clutches of a deadly predator. I want to explode into smithereens, obliterating everything in my wake.

I reconsider my actions, for I am not a rodent, and she is no predator. She is the woman we all know: the middle-aged suburban mom who asks you about your kids just so she can one-up you with her own kids’ recent successes. She’s that woman who, when she finds out you’re having your kitchen redone, suddenly decides to fashion her personal indoor gym. You’ve undoubtedly met her at your best friend’s holiday party. Or perhaps she’s your hairdresser. Maybe even your distant cousin.

I could tell her my plans in great detail, but honestly, this woman doesn’t actually care about my plans. She really could not care less about my life, for human beings are selfish creatures at their core. It’s basic survival instinct. So, instead of exposing my fears and doubts I have about leaving the only place I know, exposed and vulnerable, in order to venture into the unknown Real World, I turn the tables.

“I’m applying to graduate programs, so we’ll see… But tell me how you are.”

Gracefully navigated, I think to myself. She carries on, chattering away about her own life. I am free.

Until next time, that is.