“State is buying my photo and paying me a lot of money for it,” I felt dazed. “I think I need to go lie down.” I stumbled to my feet and lurched over to the sofa.
“Wow you must really feel faint if you’re lying on my sofa,” Lana snarked. She came over and sat on the chair. “Why are you so surprised? Your pictures have always been awesome.”
“I guess I thought when people said it could be a career, it was a joke.”
“Good thing you’re going to meet with Dr. Rossum.”
“No, I think I need to be a finance major. Josh was talking about licenses and set fees and stuff I had zero understanding of.” I felt dazed by it all.
“Nah, you’re the artist. You create. Someone else sells.” Lana looked at her fingers and nonchalantly added, “And you’ve got the perfect person to be able to do that.”
I already knew a finance major. A surge of adrenaline spiked through me. “I have to go take more photos. I’ve always wanted to take a picture of the State capital. I wonder how much it would cost to rent a crane.”
“A crane?” Lana laughed.
“So I can get some height,” I said. “No wait. I need to learn to take ground level tilt shifts. And maybe do some freeze motion photography.” I got up and ran to my camera. “Can I borrow your car? I want to go over to the Botanical Gardens and take some shots.”
“Sure. I’ll come with you. Remember, I’m your assistant,” Lana teased.
As we were walking through the Gardens, admiring the late fall foliage, I told Lana that I had received a response from the head of the program. “I’m going to talk to Dr. Rossum tomorrow about a major in the Fine Arts program.”
Lana jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. “Yay!”
“I’m excited,” I admitted, trying to suppress my pleasure both at my decision and Lana’s reaction. “I’m supposed to bring in a portfolio of my work, and he said that he would assess my suitability.”
“He’ll love it.”
“I hope so. I never thought my work was any good, you know? So I told everyone that I wasn’t interested in making money off it,” I admitted.
“I know,” Lana took my free hand and swung it, walking like we were five-year-olds on our first jaunt in the park.
“How so?”
“You were scared and deflecting, diminishing expectations in hopes of avoiding disappointment.”
“Do you really think talking like that to your patients is going to be helpful?”
“Too much?” She stopped and turned to me.
“Definitely,” I reached over and gave her a hug. “I still love you best.”
“Nah,” she said, hugging me back. “I think you love someone else best now, but I’m okay with that.”
I blushed a little and goosed her in retaliation.
“Speaking of true loves, you telling Noah about your plans?”
“No, not until after I talk to Dr. Rossum. I want to surprise him with the good news.”
I fingered my prepared portfolio. I had pored over my photos, but there were only I felt comfortable showing a few of them to Dr. Rossum. One of Lana’s sorority sisters was an art major and said that he was notoriously difficult and picky. I wished I had taken Lana up on her offer to come or told Noah about it. They would both be here, holding my hand if I had asked them.
But I had relied on Lana for so long. I wouldn’t even be here at Central if she hadn’t surreptitiously sent in my application. Noah could go fight a war, come back, and build an empire. I could face down one college professor.
“Don’t hover, Ms. Sullivan. Either come in or leave,” I jumped at the slightly nasal command. The door had been ajar, but I hadn’t realized he had spotted me.
I rubbed a finger across my nose, took a deep breath, and pushed the door fully open to walk through. Dr. Rossum’s office was a disaster. There were two wooden chairs set in front of his desk, but they were overflowing with magazines and papers. A small path from the door to the desk was cleared, but there was nowhere to sit. I inched in, careful not to tumble any of the piles to the ground. I stood awkwardly while he inspected me.
His gaze was so penetrating I felt like he could see all my flaws. That I didn’t know how to draw. That I hadn’t taken one art class, ever. That I spent most of my time walking in Lana’s shadow and my best friend was a boy I wrote to for four years and had never met, until recently. The organs in my throat seemed to swell, and I swallowed rapidly to try to keep my airway open. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I ordered myself silently.
Dr. Rossum held out his hand and I laid the portfolio in his hand. For several minutes, I stood as Dr. Rossum silently paged through my pictures. He reached the end, flipped through rapidly again, and tossed it toward me like a Frisbee. I fumbled it and the photos spilled out onto the piles and the floor like refuse. My cheeks were burning as I bent to pick up the trash. Tears sat at the base of my throat, threatening to spill out if I so much as opened my mouth. I mutely tucked all the photos into my portfolio and stood up.