There’s a brief session of typing before she says, “Yeah, she seems distracted, more than usual. A little, umm, off?”
I frown, thinking out loud, “I’m busy till the evening, but—”
“I’ll try to swing by and check on her during my lunch break, if not, later.” She pauses. “How are you doing, Bean?”
Vicky is the only person I told about last night. I didn’t feel like discussing it with anyone but my sister. “How am I doing?” I gaze ahead at the busy street. “I don’t know. I feel . . . empty? Does that even make any sense? Hurt. Baffled. I feel a little lost like I’m functioning but there’s this hollow hole in me. Like something is missing. Yeah . . . empty.”
Vic hums in understanding. “Did you have breakfast?”
See, my sister knows me better than anyone. She knows I’ll feel faint later if I don’t eat before work. She also knows that I tend to suffer silently, hold things inside, and carry on. “I forgot,” comes out as a murmur.
“Why don’t you come over tonight, sleepover, let me take care of you. I don’t want you to be alone.” And then. “And, please grab something to eat before you start your classes.”
I swallow the lump of sentiments her suggestion provoked. “Okay . . . to both.”
“I’ll call you after I see mom. Oh, and good luck with the meeting. Smile, little sis, despite hot doctor you have good things happening to you.”
I square up, force a thin smile on my face, and enter the café. Jesse gets up first and gives me a warm hug. The next hug has the same friendly quality, only it smells of rich, rose-scented perfume. “Hello dear,” my soon to be former boss says with a smile.
“Hey Anna, the regular?” Ronny, the sociable biophysics student/waitress with the wildest mane of bouncy curls asks. I nod at her with a smile.
“So—” Jesse thumps the top of the two neatly stacked and stapled piles of paper. “These are the final drafts as confirmed by your lawyer, after incorporating all mutually agreed on adjustments of course.” He produces a pen from his briefcase and offers it to me.
I look at the tilted pen for a silenced beat. “I’ve got my own,” I say in a leveled tone, concealing the tug on my heart. I reach for my bag and take out the pen Liam gave me.
“Good luck pen?” Jesse says with a grin.
“You can say that,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes, and turn to put down my initials and sign every page of the contract while Mrs. Rotfield does the same with the set. A few minutes later, we exchange contracts, trading a kind stare, and carry on.
“Okay,” Mrs. Rotfield says, signing the last page and dropping her pen. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you two now.” She takes my hand in both hers over the table. “I’m delighted the studio will be yours now, Anna. In a sense, it feels like it will stay in the family.”
I smile at her, moved by the sentiment. “Thank you for the opportunity, for waiting for me to come up with the money. I’m well-aware that you could have sold it months ago.” I smile at her. “You taught me so much, and I’m genuinely grateful for everything.”
“Come here, you sweet girl,” she says and stands up. With her arms open wide, she invites me into a motherly hug. “I’m so glad the studio is yours now. I’m sure you’ll do great things with it.”
“Everything okay?” Jesse asks as soon as his grandmother leaves, studying me as I gaze distractedly out the window.
I turn to him. “Sure.” My smile falls short of backing my answer.
He cocks his head, assessing me. “Well, I’m always here to talk, hang out, date you, be your friend, send an Indian food delivery, you name it.”
I nod with a thin smile, tracing my finger over my signature on the contract, thinking about how happy I should be right now, and how great of a guy he is. I send him another glance; he smiles warmly in return. Maybe if we met under different circumstances when I wasn’t so much into someone else . . .
I train my stare on his. “Thanks,” I say, smiling at him warmly, and add, “For everything.”
He gets the bill next and then walks me to the studio; we hug good-bye and I’m left alone. For a silent moment, I look at the key in my hand. I’ve stepped into this studio more times than I could count, but this time feels different. Monumental. I take a step in and walk to stand in the middle of the main room, looking around. A triumphant smile takes over my lips as I inwardly yell, “this place is mine now!”
I glance around, already putting together a list in my head of things I want to do. I don’t have much money left for any major renovations; I’ll start little by little. The first thing I want to do is bring mom over and together come up with a facelift plan. What I know for sure is I want a fresh coat of paint, something I’ll start working on this weekend. It gives me purpose, something special to look forward to. At least I have something to invest all my energy in, something to distract, keep me occupied. Even though I don’t want to give it too much weight, I know that how I feel right now won’t go away any time soon. The undercurrent sadness. Liam made me fall for him and left me with all these feelings, all these feelings trapped inside with no one to share them with.
The thing is, I don’t see Liam’s decision as a rejection. It sure stings like one, but I don’t. He’s a goal-oriented, driven person with a very promising future. He wouldn’t get to where he is now if he weren’t as dedicated to his goal. And, sadly so, he believes he can’t be in a relationship till . . . God knows when. What he doesn’t understand is that I’ll be there for him, to support him rather than impose. I don’t need someone to be with me all the time. I’m a very independent person with my own goals which I’ll have to work hard and continue growing to achieve. Our compatibility is not something one can often find, if at all. I’ve been swimming in the dating pool long enough to know what we have is something most people dream of; friendship, chemistry, attraction, and the deepest connection. But his mind is set and he just won’t listen. Nothing much I can do about it.
It was Bill Gates who once said, life is not fair; get used to it. Taking Bill’s advice, I mentally roll up my sleeves, ready to dive headfirst into this day. Melancholy be damned. My studio, my responsibility, it’s on me to make it fabulous! I thrash out a 10-90 agreement with myself which translates into a 10%-time allowance to lick my wounds as long as the other 90% is dedicated to focusing on my friends, work, and giving both my all.
Today’s lessons fly by and when seven rolls around the corner, I’m ready to call it a day with a quick dinner at Vicky’s and a long soak in a lavender-scented bubble bath. My sister has the most dreamy claw foot bathtub. I lock up the studio and check my phone, noticing a missed call from my sister.
I’m pulling the key out of the lock when Vicky answers. Anxiety registers in her voice when she says my name. “Hey, Vic, what’s wrong?” I ask concerned.
“Hey, listen, I’m . . . I’m taking mom to the hospital.”
I gasp. “What? Where are you?”
Vicky couldn’t sound more worried. “We’re heading to Virginia Mason.”
A shiver of sheer panic engulfs me. “What’s wrong with her? What happened?”