THINGS TO DO IN THE NEXT FIVE YEARS
Get your dream job.
Find a great apartment.
Make a difference in the community.
Have little kids run up to you because they adore you.
Do something that would make Jen proud.
Buy and wear a really fancy dress to a significant event.
Meet the man you’ll marry.
She started typing.
February 6
Dear Dad,
Do I have news for you.
Today was a big day. My first solo project opened! The Hope Community Center. This was a big deal, not just for me but for Providence, Dad. We need a place like this, and even though it was there before, it was kind of grim and industrial, not to mention underused.
Not anymore!
There were so many happy families there tonight . . . I admit, I felt a little holy and saintlike. But seriously! Saintlike! Parents now have a cool place to hang out, take classes, meet each other, and it’s all free. Kids have all sorts of activities—art, dance, computer classes. There’s a teen hangout room. A toddler playscape. And it’s so flippin’ pretty! Natural light, great flow, cool colors (none of that primary color shock wall look, you know what I’m saying?).
The party was fantastic. A few local restaurants donated the food and drinks—stuffies and hot wieners and a raw bar from the Eddy. We had Del’s lemonade for the kids, wine and champagne for us grown-ups.
Oh, Dad. If you had been there, you would’ve been so proud. I was thinking about you so hard, knowing you wouldn’t have missed the opening for the world. For a second, I thought I could feel you there. I swear I caught a whiff of Aqua Velva. Thanks for that, Daddy.
I wore my fancy dress. (Armani!!! Don’t worry, I got it online for cheap, and don’t forget, I did apparel design for a year and a half.) For the opening tonight, I wanted to look the part, like a successful public space/interior designer who works for a great firm and represents the Providence community. Because, even though it still surprises me, I am that person.
Back before you died, I admit that I was a little unfocused. I mean, winning Project Runway was basically the only plan I had for the future. (Thanks for loving me just the same.) I’m so glad I’m not designing clothes and am doing this instead. Seeing those families tonight was incredible, Daddy. Feeling like they have this gorgeous place, partly because I helped . . . I felt really proud. And humbled, and lucky, and just overjoyed. What a great job I have! Next stop, I want to overhaul an ER waiting room, because I was there two weeks ago. (Dad. I have asthma. Who knew?) Anyway, it was so frickin’ ugly I almost cried. If you’re sick, you should be able to be somewhere that doesn’t look like Jean Valjean’s prison cell.
But I digress. You know how I wanted little kids to run up to me because I’d done something great? It happened. Asmaa, the director of the Hope Center, gave her speech to welcome everyone. I didn’t know she was going to do this, but she said the NICEST things about me. How hard I worked, how I went above and beyond the call, how I made this place a second home for so many. And yes, I’ve been practically living there the past year, and I do love the kiddies. But she surprised me, and my eyes filled with tears, and Jen put her arm around me, and my bosses were beaming, because they’re really nice, but also because of the great PR.
Then . . . much to my complete shock . . . Asmaa called me up to the podium to say a few words, and Jen hugged me and had tears in her eyes, and all the kids who’ve been helping or hanging out and painting the walls . . . they all ran up to me and hugged me and they were saying, “Go, Lauren! Go, Lauren!” and it was the happiest moment of my life. I have no idea what I said, but it doesn’t matter. Jen said it was perfect, bless her.
I wish you could’ve seen me, Dad. I wish that so much.
Lauren got up, blew her nose, took a hit of her inhaler, since crying made her chest feel tight, and noticed that her mascara was at Terrifying Raccoon level from the bittersweet tears. She washed her face, got into her pj’s, put her hair into a ponytail and got back to her laptop. Took another sip of wine, settled into her couch and decided that once she was done with this update, she’d have that Pepperidge Farm coconut cake in the freezer for dinner, because she hadn’t eaten much at the opening. And also to celebrate, because . . . well . . . something important was coming to an end. Even more importantly, something else was about to begin.
Before we get on to the last thing on my list, Daddy, I have a little story to tell you. When I was a freshman, back in the good old days when you were alive, I went to a party. Which, you know, I did probably more than I should, but in hindsight, thank God I had fun then, because your death really took the wind out of my sails, Father. So I’m glad I got some irresponsibility in when I could.
Anyway, I was at a party, and I may have been underage drinking (I was, so go ahead and haunt me). And then this ripple went through the room, this shiver of excitement through the herd . . . because HE was here, the king of RISD, the golden boy, the future bazillionaire. Joshua Park.
Who was this young man, you ask? Let me tell you.
Joshua Park is:
extremely, extremely handsome.
apparently a certifiable genius who skipped a year in high school.
the inventor who designed something when he was 18 YEARS OLD that sold to a huge medical company for a ton of money. And then he kept doing things like that. He donated the design of something that will save premature babies and has been on CNN. Based on the rumors, he was about to invent time travel.
He was a senior at this particular party, and everyone was looking at him like he was Prince Harry. RISD’s pride and joy. Word had it that already, he had endowed the school with a million buckaroos.
Josh is also wicked handsome (I mentioned that, didn’t I?), and too cool for normal activities like parties, so he’s not just a genius and already killing it professionally . . . he also has this loner hot guy vibe. So there he is, and this swarm of people enveloped him, like bees crawling over the hive. Of course I was watching (we all were, and his name was being murmured through the crowd like a wave, Joshua Park, Joshua Park).
And then, the weirdest thing happened. I wanted to . . . I don’t know. Rescue him. I wanted to save him. He looked so stone-faced and uncomfortable, blinking a little too much, like he’d been inside for a week and had gotten his first glimpse of the sun, like a sad (extremely handsome) earthworm. My heart just went out to him.