On an Edge of Glass

know.  Of course I’ve seen the way that Ben looks at me, but maybe I’m missing something. 
    “ He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room.  Like he’s trapped underwater and you’re an oxygen tank.  Like he’s in anaphylactic shock and you’re an EpiPen.”  Mark shakes his head.  “He looks at you like you’re the last cello left on the planet.”
    “Pfffttt. ”  I squeeze my fingers tighter.  I’m too wound up.  Too suspended in insecurity and disbelief.  “But, he said…”
    “I don’t care what he said.”  Mark points his finger at me.  “You also blamed alcohol, and we both know that’s not true.”
    “Because I was embarrassed,” I say , defensiveness straightening my shoulders.
    “ Did it cross your mind that Ben might be embarrassed too?”
    “Of course it did, but—”
    Mark won’t let me finish.  “You’re the one that broke things off with him.  He’s got some pride, you know.  It’s not like you’ve made anything particularly easy on the guy.”
    “ Since when did you start taking Ben’s side?”  My voice is getting higher and tighter.  I feel like I’m slipping. “You’re my friend!  You’re supposed to be on my side.”
    Mark looks almost sad for me.  “This is me being on your side, Ellie.  This is the side that cares about you.  The side that doesn’t want to see you keep throwing all the good things in your life away when something doesn’t go exactly like you plan.”
    I rub my fingers against my eyes.  I won’t start crying now.   It’s too humiliating.  “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about all of the times that you’ve given up too easily.  I’m talking about that night at The Hill when you walked away from Ben without fighting for him.  I’m talking about these. ”  Mark picks up a stack of unopened envelopes from my desk.
    “That’ s different,” I object.  “Those have nothing to do with Ben.”
    “They have to do with you .  Isn’t that enough?”  Mark snorts, raising his hand, the envelopes trapped in his fingers.  They are the letters that I’ve received from different law schools over the past week.  “How many of these do you think are acceptance letters?”
    Unceremoniously, I cross the distance and snatch the envelopes away.  “You should just go home.”
    Mark blinks.   “I love you Ellie, but you can be an ass sometimes.” 
    “Right back at you.”
    Mark stands.  He lets go of a strong sigh.  “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you have to get over this idea you have that everything in the world needs to fit inside a tiny, perfectly square box.  If you don’t, you’re never going to be satisfied.  Life is unpredictable and it doesn’t follow a map.  Columbia’s out.  So, get a new, revised dream.  You still want to go to law school?  All you have to do is open one of these envelopes.”  He touches my shoulder lightly.  “And the same goes for Ben.  If he’s not the kind of guy that you thought that you’d end up with—who cares?  I know that the way that you feel about him scares the crap out of you, but if you love him like I think you do then you have to tell him so.”
    “It’s not that simple,” I say.
    “Maybe…  Maybe not.”  Mark smiles, scanty and asymmetrical.  “Happiness isn’t something that you can plan for.  It comes knocking unexpectedly, just like opportunity.  And it’s up to you to answer the door and invite it inside.”
    “Mark… I—I—”  My voice is shapeless.
    He leans in and kisses my cheek.  His fingers squeeze my hand—the one that’s holding the envelopes.  “Just think about it, Ellie.  Okay?”
    I swallow hard and screw my eyes shut to keep the tears inside.  “Okay.”
     
     
    I’m at my desk.  The small light is flipped on, casting my bedroom in a warm brownish glow.  The first envelope that I pick up is from Vanderbilt.  My fingers fumble as I tear along the seam and pull out the folded two-page letter.  My name is braced across the top.  I scan down. 
                  We are pleased to offer you placement…
                  I don’t even get through the first line before my vision blurs and my breath catches in my throat.  Everything inside of me is toppling.  It’s like I’m being pushed over by possibilities that I hadn’t dared to let myself imagine.
                  The next envelope on my desk is from