Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

He chuckled. “It will be displayed in a special award-winning portion of the exhibit, along with a photograph of you and a plaque with a short bio and summary of artist intent.” He paused. “You will also receive a five-thousand, US-dollar prize for the accolade.”

My jaw dropped at that. “You’re… you’re serious?”

“I am,” he said with a smile. “We’ll work on the details later, but I wanted to tell you in person. This is a high honor, Miss Chambers,” he said, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder as his eyes leveled with mine. “And you have earned it. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I said, but I couldn’t control the tics on my face as I tried to wrap my head around everything he’d just told me.

When he released me, he straightened the lapels of his jacket and said, “Well, I’ll be going now. But before I do, I want to leave you with one last thought.”

He waited until I blinked out of my daze and looked him in the eye.

“In your letter of intent for this semester, you mentioned that you were unsure if you could have a career as an artist, or if you would return home to be… an accountant, I believe?” he asked with a smile.

I nodded, swallowing as my parents’ concerned faces flickered in my mind.

“Well, let me be the first to tell you that crunching numbers behind a desk all day would be a terrible waste of your exceptional talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Let me also be the first to tell you that life as an artist is far from easy,” he added, holding up his finger. “Some days, you will wonder if it’s worth it. But I hope at the end of every one, you always remember that it is.”

We shared a smile, and then with a tip of his imaginary hat, he was gone.

The Art of Clarity

The next afternoon, I called home.

Maybe it was something triggered by what Professor Beneventi had said about my future. Maybe it was the absence of Liam and Angela, and the expansive quiet that allowed me to really think about everything I’d been ignoring all summer. Or maybe it was something humming under the surface and urging me to do what I didn’t even realize I needed.

All I knew was that I had to make amends with my parents.

And the hardest part was that they didn’t even know I was upset at all.

“Hello?” my mom answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Harley?” There was a bit of shuffling on the other end, and I imagined her sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder like she always did when she was on the phone and working in the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” I lied. “I just wanted to talk to you. To both of you. Is Dad there?”

“He’s in his office, let me go get him,” she said warily. “Are you sure everything is okay? You can email us, you know. These calls are expensive.”

“I have the money.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain. Get Dad.”

“Okay…”

The phone was muffled before I heard her holler, and then after a minute or so, she and Dad were both on the phone.

And the time was now or never.

“I have to tell you something,” I started. “Several somethings, really. And it’s going to be hard for me to get this all out, so I just need you both to be quiet and let me speak until I’m finished. Okay?”

“You’re scaring us,” Mom said.

“There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We’re listening, pumpkin,” Dad said, and I imagined him holding my mom’s hand, soothing her the way he always did when she got wound up.

I sighed, twirling the phone cord around my finger as I paced the small area it allowed me to. “I won an award,” I started. “It’s a pretty big deal, and I’m going to be featured in the showcase over here. There was also prize money. Five-thousand dollars.”

“Wow!” Mom said at the same time Dad yelled, “That’s my girl!”

I smiled. “Yeah. So, that being said…” I swallowed, throat closing in around the words I’d practiced saying. “I know you guys want me to be an accountant, and I know that would be a much more stable career. But I’m not an accountant. I’m an artist. This is what I love to do. It’s all I know how to do. And I know it might be disappointing to hear, but this is my choice. I want to pursue a career in art. And it’s been weighing on me heavily how this news would disappoint you. I know I can’t change that,” I admitted. “I know you won’t trust that I can do this until I prove it to you. But I need your support, anyway. I need to know you stand behind my choice, even if it’s not the one you wanted me to make.”