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Yes. I’m preemptively dropping out of law school, so I won’t be attending anything on that calendar.“I was wondering about switching the third Tuesday in July. I might have a conflict.”
My sense of dread only intensifies throughout the afternoon. I have a pleasant dinner with Grandpapa. Millie’s study group plans are in direct conflict with my usual performance times at The Membership. Really, I should berelieved. The only thing I don’t like about performing is that I have to lie about it, and I always feel like I’m about to get caught. Now the fake study group will be real.
I’m not relieved.
I’m crushed, like that email started withThis year, we had many qualified applicants.That happens in life. You try your best, leave it all on the stage, and the world saysno.
The world is sayingyesthis time.
Why does it feel like a rejection?
It’s almost eleven on Monday night when my phone vibrates in my hand.
I’ve been scrolling for an hour under my weighted blanket, listening to the wind brush the tips of the tree limbs against my window. Every so often, a louder gust whistles by. Scrolling is not the best use of my time, I know, but I couldn’t clear my mind enough to do any preemptive reading for law school.
Rob: Know this is a long shot but a dancer dropped last minute. Want to perform for the late crowd?
I can’t,I type out, my thumbs racing ahead on autopilot. I never work the evening or night shifts. They’re riskier than the afternoons. Larger audiences. More chances to get recognized by someone who knows my grandfather.
I delete the words and let my thumbs hover over the keyboard. I’m going to have to drop most, if not all, of my slots at The Membership after this week. Millie’s study schedule starts next Monday, and if I’m brutally honest with myself, Ineedthe extra study groups. I’m not a natural genius, or one of those people who took to school like they’d been born there. Grandpapa has been up front with me about how difficult law school is, 1L in particular.
I’m down to my last few performances. I can’t pass this up.
Lily: I’ll be there! I can go on in forty-five.
Rob: YES!!! You have saved us all from ruin
Lily: Redheads unite LOL
Rob sends me a peace sign emoji.
I slip out of bed, grab my leather bag, and gather my things. My leotard, clean and ready to go. My emergency makeup kit. A notebook I loved when I bought it, still empty. My favorite pen. My laptop.
Should I leave a note? I don’t think my grandfather wakes up much at night, but just in case.
Late-night study group!I scrawl on a piece of stationery from my writing desk.Be back soon! Love you! —Lily
Then it’s time to get dressed.
If my story is that I’m attending a study group, I need a mix between casual and professional. Bodysuit. Slacks. I fold a cardigan into my bag in case.
Keys. Wallet. Phone. Check.
I carry my flats in my hand for my journey through the silent house. The hardwood floor doesn’t creak very often, but I stay light on my feet, never letting myself rest on any floorboard too long. Outside my grandfather’s bedroom door, I pause for a second to listen.
He’s snoring.
Perfect.
A deep breath to center myself, and I make my way down the stairs.
In the kitchen, I pause, gather myself, and make sure I have everything. This is a system Grandpapa helped me design in middle school, when I had a monthlong stretch of leaving at least one essential thing at home every school day. Back then, I’d remind myself all evening toremember the red folder, remember my social studies book, remember my math homework.I’d makelists. And then the lists wouldn’t register.
I’m going through my purse, feeling for all my must-have items, when a piece of paper on the kitchen counter catches my eye. It’s lined up right next to the latte machine. That’s my first stop every morning. Grandpapa’s usually gone when I get up on the weekdays, an old habit from when I was little and he was working as a prosecutor. He chose early mornings so he could pick me up from school and have dinner with me, so I started my days with the nanny.
He was appointed to his seat on the bench the year I started kindergarten, and he kept up the habit. Early to work. Evenings at home.
I tiptoe over and read it in the moonlight coming through the window.
