It's just a small step. But it's so hard.
Liana
"Do you want me to walk you to class?"
Elias asked while the truck idled outside the drop-off loop.
I hesitated.
Then shook my head. "No, thanks."
I could feel him looking at me, even as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
I should try to be independent, I thought. You already do too much. I don't want to be a burden.
He didn't argue.
Just said, "Text me when you're done."
And I nodded, stepped out, and shut the door.
I got lost before I even found the classroom.
Glendale Community College wasn't huge, but to someone who hadn't stepped foot in a school building in nearly six years, it felt massive. Cold. Confusing.
I followed the campus map, misread one hallway, looped back twice.
By the time I found Room 203, my hands were sweating so badly I nearly dropped the doorknob.
Intro to Psychology.
The sentence I saw in the promotional brochure back then popped into my head: "Understanding human psychological activities and the reasons for behavior."
and I want to know what's wrong with me recently.
Just one class. One day a week.
I thought it'd be simple.
It wasn't.
The professor walked in with a click of heels and a stack of papers under one arm.
She didn't smile. She didn't waste time.
Just wrote DR. BAILEY on the board and jumped in.
She talked fast.
Not mean. Just efficient.
But the words—
"Cognitive dissonance."
"Operant conditioning."
"Behavioral reinforcement."— might as well have been in another language.
I tried to keep up.
Tried to take notes.
Tried not to look like someone who wanted to disappear.
The girl next to me had three highlighters and a color-coded notebook.
I had a pen that skipped.
By the end of the lecture, I'd written down exactly seven words I understood.
My brain felt like static.
But worse than that—my chest ached.
A slow, quiet kind of pressure.
Not panic. Just that familiar cold spread behind my ribs.
I wasn't panicking.
I was just… disappearing.
Elias was waiting by the curb when I walked out.
He didn't say anything at first.
The ride home was quiet. Windows cracked, soft radio hum.
My throat itched with unsaid things.
Halfway back, he asked, "How was it?"
I kept my eyes on the road.
"I didn't understand half of it."
He nodded.
"They use big words. I felt stupid."
"You're not."
"I couldn't concentrate. My legs were shaking the whole time. I didn't even write anything down."
"It was your first day."
I didn't respond.
But when we got home, he handed me a protein bar and said, "You survived. That's step one."
The second week was just as hard.
But I showed up.
I sat in the back corner again.
Tried to take notes.
Avoided eye contact during the group discussion I didn't join.
That day, after class, the professor called me over.
"Chen, right?"
I froze. Then nodded.
She studied me. Not harshly. Just… carefully.
"You didn't join a group today."
I bit the inside of my cheek. "I didn't know we were supposed to."
"You weren't. It was optional. But I noticed."
She tilted her head.
"You always sit in the same spot. You don't speak. But you're always watching."
I didn't know what to say.
"I used to work with social outreach programs," she said. "We partnered with shelters and trauma recovery groups. I recognize the signs."
I stiffened.
She held up a hand. "You're not in trouble. I just want to understand how to support you."
Her voice was calm. Direct. No pity.
"You're not a native speaker?"
"No."
"You've done a lot on your own to get here, haven't you?"
I nodded.
"You're not the only one," she said. "But most don't make it this far. You're showing up. That counts."
I didn't feel like it counted.
"I can help," she said. "I have office hours here every Tuesday at 2 p.m."
She didn't say come.
She just said it was there.
A week later
After class, I walked out of the building slower than usual.
My class was in the morning.
But I stayed.
I texted Elias and told him I needed to use the library.
He didn't question it.
I had lunch at the cafeteria.
Or at least—I tried.
The food was fine. The room was loud.
I kept looking at the clock.
2:03.
She is there now.
I stood under a tree for a while. Watched other students walk past me like I was a signpost.
My feet wouldn't move.
What if she was just being polite?
What if she changed her mind when she saw how bad I really was?
What if I went in and forgot every English word I knew?
But then again—
What if I didn't go, and stayed exactly where I was?
I looked back toward the office building.
One hallway.
One door.
One choice.
I adjusted the strap on my backpack.
And took the first step.