C and I lie wrapped in each other's arms amidst the familiar lumps of an unmade bed. She's had a horrible day. I make soothing noises, trying to pick through her stories like a comb through unbrushed hair, trying to find each knot, figure out how bad it is, whether or not she wants me to help her unravel it, or just know it's there.
I reach for one I already know about: the cost of next semester's tuition. She goes to a private college, like I did, but we're about as far apart from each other on the paying scale. My parents paid my entire tuition - no financial aid, no grants, no fellowships, no loans. When I went abroad with a program that cost significantly less than the cost of a semester of school, they paid school tuition anyway, and the extra $10,000 or so supposedly went towards the financial aid pool.
She tells me it's going to work out, patiently explains the unfamiliar acronyms and jargon. All I knew about FAFSA was that I didn't have to fill it out. I didn't know what an EFC was, or that aid is set at different scales for two-parent homes versus one-parent homes. She's going to get a good deal this semester.
I don't say it, but I think: people like you get to go to college because of people like me/my parents.
It is neither a happy nor a sad realization. No guilt either. Just noticing.
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