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“It’s on the table in the kitchen. Do you want me to see who it’s from?”
“It might be about those paintings I submitted to a few galleries, remember? I told you about it.”
I can hear his footsteps as he walks into the kitchen. “It’s from the Sea Glass Art Gallery.”
“Really?” I sent the pictures out on a whim, after reading an article about a few new, emerging artists who have landed major exhibitions at some big name galleries. And the Sea Glass is one I’ve been watching from afar for a long time. I never really expected to hear back from any of them, and especially not that one. They’re basically the pinnacle of galleries. Exhibitions at the Sea Glass almost always completely sell out for crazy prices. And they put their artists on the map.
“Do you want me to open it?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll wait.” It’s not the kind of thing I want to do over the phone. I want to open it when I’m alone. In case it’s my wildest dreams coming true or just another rejection. But I don’t know if I can wait until next weekend to find out. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you bring it to work with you tomorrow? I could come pick it up after your practice.”
“Sure. We finish at six. Why don’t you come at six fifteen.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then. Make sure you have some salad with your dinner.”
I can hear his low chuckle. “And you make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“I will,” I assure him. “Go have a beer with Jim. I’m only a phone call away. Just text me and I’ll come home whenever you need me to.”
“I’m fine, honey. Don’t worry about me.” But there’s a husk to his voice that I’m very familiar with. “Have fun in your new dorm, okay?”
“I will.”
“Not too much fun,” he sort-of jokes, but there’s a sorrowful, over-protective edge to it. My dad’s a big teddy bear of a man—when it comes to his family, at least. On the football field he’s more like a tactical grizzly bear. He’s direct and strict, as he needs to be. Like a general leading his troops. Which is his job, of course. But when it comes to me, he’s the kindest person I know.
We end the call and I know we’re both feeling the separation. But we’re ready. We have to be ready. It’s life, and we need to get on with it.
3
So far, the best thing about college is Isla.
I’ve never fallen so easily into a friendship with someone who’s going through the exact same thing I’m going through as I’m going through it. We’re completely on the same wavelength. I already know she’ll be my best friend for the next four years and quite possibly for the rest of my life and it’s an amazing feeling.
“I’ll warn you now,” Isla tells me as we walk across the Green toward the restaurant in town where we’re meeting Gabriel. Her arm is linked through mine. “My brother and his friends are going to attempt to be totally controlling and act like they’re your own personal overlords. It’ll probably be almost as bad for you as it is for me, since you’re their coach’s daughter and my roommate. But I’ve already told Gabriel that he and his teammates are no longer allowed to be my over-protective bodyguards. This is college and if I want to make my own mistakes, then I’m going to. From now on, I refuse to live by anyone’s rules but my own.”
“Exactly. We’re hedonistic free spirits. We do whatever we want.”
“No more parents. No more rules.” She glances over at me, realizing how that might have sounded to me. “Zara, I’m so sorry about your mom. I can’t even imagine.”
I shrug a little. “I’ve grieved as much as it’s possible to grieve. For years. I’m ready to do something else now. My sister told me I’m only allowed to concentrate on the present and future from now on. And myself. Even my therapist told me it’s time to step out from under the weight of my past and all the tragedy. That’s how she said it: ‘step out from under the weight of it.’ So that’s what I plan on doing.”
“I’ll do it right along with you,” Isla says. “Do you have any other siblings?”
“Just one sister. What about you?”
“It’s just me and Gabriel. My parents are still mostly-happily married and living in the same house I grew up in, near Virginia Beach. My parents are both very Type A. My dad founded a bank and my mom’s a lawyer. My parents wanted me to study law but I refused.”
“Majoring in business is just as good though, isn’t it? You’ll be a CEO instead of a lawyer. That’s not too shabby.”
“You’d think so. My mom thinks law is more of a career path and business is more of a crapshoot. Businesses fail.”
“So do law firms.”
She scoffs. “Not Eastman & Dillon Law, where my mom’s a senior partner. She was hoping one of her kids would take the firm over one day. She wanted a protégé. It’s been one of her biggest disappointments in life that she won’t get one. But she’s finally beginning to accept that neither of her children are going to carry on her legacy of being one of the top prosecutors in the state of Virginia.”
