“So,” he said, “you’re at Columbia? You gonna be an I-banker, make some paper?” I chortled. Then I composed myself. “Sorry,” I said. “No.” Austin’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you spend all that money on Columbia, then?” I saw that we’d have to dive into a minihistory of the Gurley case, then talk about Asian Americans perpetuating anti-Blackness, in order to arrive, ironically, at an agreement that it wasn’t worth the money to continue my education. “I guess I wanted to get away from L.A. for a minute,” I said instead.
