Lilly

It’s spring break, they say, you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, you can finally sleep and eat and listen to music and lie in bed all day if you really want to.

But I’ve barely slept in days, I consume something from the fridge every few hours almost mindlessly, I hide in the lab and stare at static fields and spectra for hours on end with a headache eating away at my right temple.

I’ve been faced with a choice. Usually I’m good at choices—it’s become requisite as I’ve become more and more independent in the past few months. But this is a decision I hadn’t anticipated having to make. It has financial meaning, and ethical meaning, and meaning for my future. It’s all because after accepting an early offer for a summer research position at one institution, one of the most well-known programs in the country came knocking on my door.

“I have students apply every year to that university and no one has ever received an offer before.”

“Really?” I ask, incredulous.

My advisor nods. He’s doing his best to talk me through this—how can I find out more information from both parties? What factors should weigh into my decision?—but he won’t, of course, make the choice for me. It’s a weird state of limbo that he can’t pull me out of.

“I can’t go back on an offer now, though, can I?”

“It’s not customary, but it’s also certainly not unheard of.”

I spend 24 hours with some percentage of my brain running constantly in the background, dreaming up scenarios and drafting emails until I want to scrub this entire situation out of my skull. I hate that I’m even worried about this—most of my friends have just given me some take on the “embarrassment of riches” response and I am guilted into silence, not wanting to share my anxieties for fear of stepping on someone’s toes. I am exceedingly lucky to have my advisor on campus over break, willing to let me bounce hopes and fears off of him until I’m in some state to actually choose.

My parents get to meet him and they both like him nearly as much as I do. They are in town for the weekend, taking me and my roommate out to dinner and touring the not-so-exciting computer lab where I live whenever I’m not in class or in bed. We go to a soccer match where I am permitted to forget my woes for 90 minutes (and take on new ones—the team I support doesn’t exactly do well). Spring break feels better than a weekend, somehow more structured. Lab, groceries, laundry, there are things to do even in the absence of immediate academic responsibilities. I pop an ibuprofen for the pain in my head and carry on. I will sleep better after I decide. ♦