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The room around me was dark and quiet with the ceiling fan going full blast on the warm night.
“What’s wrong?”
Julie was sitting up in bed beside me. She was here. She was fine. A nightmare. It had all been a horrifying nightmare. My baby was fine. It was all ok.
Julie looked very concerned as she slid closer to me and put her arm around me. “Honey, you’re white as a ghost. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just a stupid nightmare. It’s ok.”
I grabbed the bottle of water on my nightstand and chugged all of it before lying back down and trying to get some rest. It had all been a dream. Just a dream. But what if something like that happened again? What in the world would I do if I ever lost Julie? I couldn’t go through losing my world again.
I knew that the next time, it would bury me too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Julie
I was just heading out to have dinner with my parents when I saw the package in the mailbox. I’d swung by my place to grab some more of my art supplies and a few other things to take them to Ricky’s later, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen it. I was living at Ricky’s almost full time now, but he’d never actually asked me to officially move in, so I felt that having my mail forwarded would have been a bit presumptuous.
My parents had agreed to come into the city to have dinner with me at Rivermel, one of my father’s favorite steak restaurants in town. I was hoping he’d had time to calm down about the situation with Ricky and that maybe my mother had been able to talk some sense into him and he might have had a change of heart. Fat chance, I knew, but I liked to be optimistic about things. It put me in a better mood anyway.
I noticed the package immediately. It was from the Art Institute. I felt the tingling butterflies in my belly. I’d applied several weeks ago, but I never in a million years thought they would let me know that quickly. I stared at the package for several seconds. It looked fat, like a thick folder full of things. I sat down at the kitchen table and opened it. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I began to read the first few sentences of the letter that was on top.
I was in. They’d accepted me. They loved my submission and they were happy to accept me into their program. I couldn’t believe it. It had taken me a long time, but finally someone else saw real worth in the work that I did. I was flabbergasted with joy. I could hardly wait to tell someone.
I wanted to tell Ricky, but I was going to wait until the right moment with him. I wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted me to go to art school. It would mean moving to New York to attend. That would put a bit of a strain on our relationship. But this was important to me and I knew our love was strong enough to make it work. I just hoped that he felt the same way about things. I didn’t tell him that I was officially going to apply. The odds were slim that I would be accepted anyway. There was no reason to cause him any anxiety or worry about it, if indeed he was going to be upset by this news. Maybe I should have told him anyway? I hated keeping things from him and I felt that I had made a terrible mistake by not telling him. I’d have to just talk to him and see how he felt.
I headed out the door to meet my parents. They were already at the table enjoying a few drinks when I got there. I couldn’t expect my father to have manners now could I?
I got settled in and we commenced with a few basic pleasantries. The tension between my father and I was still there, but I could tell he was trying to be civil. “So, what looks good on the menu, dad?” I asked him jovially. When my father was hungry (which was almost always) and you could get him distracted by thoughts of food, you had a shot at a pleasant conversation.
“Ribeye sounds good,” he said. “A big baked potato loaded with butter and sour cream. Yeah, that’s the ticket.”
“That’s the ticket to a heart attack,” I teased him.
“Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been eating the same type of diet for all my life and I’m fit as a fiddle.”
“How have you been, dear?” my mother asked me.
“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve just been accepted to art school in New York.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said.
“That’s terrific,” my father chimed in. He seemed genuinely happy for me. “When do you start?”
“Next month actually. I couldn’t believe they accepted me this late for their summer semester.”
“Wow, you didn’t want to wait until fall?”
“No, I figured I’d have a better chance getting started in the summer. Nobody wants to go to school in the summer. I guess that thinking paid off. They want bodies in those seats I guess.”
“Right,” my father said. “What about Ricky? How does he feel about you moving away? Are you guys going to call it quits?”
“No, we aren’t calling it quits, dad. I just found out as I was leaving the apartment. The mail just came and there it was. I’ll tell him soon.”
“You think a long distance thing will work? I hate to burst your bubble, but you are kidding yourself.”
I was starting to see why my father might have appeared so happy to hear I was going away to school. Well, he was going to be disappointed. We would make it work, Ricky and I. Of that I had no doubt in my mind at all.
