Page 110 of Last Letters to Ara
“When I found out he was gone, I didn’t know if I was going to survive it. It was the kind of darkness which sucks up everything around it, where you can’t even see your own hand out in front of you, and I didn’t know if there would ever be a way out.” I pause. “With those letters, my Dad lit the path, but you guided me through. You were a flame in the dark, and I will never forget it.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Theo’s eyes fill up with everything he wants to say, but can’t. He settles for reaching up to tug a little strand of escaped hair and tucks it behind my ear. “Now, let’s go see if this institute deserves you.”
• • •
The place is beautiful, I will give it that. Its old architecture and brick façades are very New York. Every hall is picturesque, and I imagine how amazing it would be to spend my time here every day, walking through these halls, doing what I love.
The application in my hands feels heavy as we make our way to the admissions office. The lady at the desk is pleasant, but matter of fact, letting us know that tours are scheduled ahead of time and are done in groups. It makes sense, though, being impersonal. She gives us two visitor passes and says we can have a look on our own if we’d like.
The woman notices the application in my hands and lets me know the drop-off box is right outside. For some reason, I decide to hold on to it and Theo doesn’t question me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to lead me back outside.
We hold our coffees and take in the sights.
“It’s beautiful.” Theo breaks the silence first.
“It is.” We’re quiet for a while longer until a big group of students break out of class and head off in various directions. I remain quiet, picking up on conversations as they go by.
“Honestly, I’m not too upset. Nobody has been able to impress Mr. Dequa. Nothing is ever good enough.”
“Bianca poured her coffee on my project, but she did me a favor because my deadline was extended thanks to her. And she only did it because she knew mine was better.”
“If I have to look in the mirror one more time after staring at a model all day, I might never touch another croissant for as long as I live.”
We walk by another classroom and I peer inside as the conversations that I overheard haunt me. Each station is set up differently, probably belonging to various students. The mannequins are dressed in various weird creations, really edgy stuff that lands somewhere between dress and trash bag. I would never be able to make anything like that. I’m not edgy or high fashion, I just want to showcase thepeoplewho wear what I make, not cover them up with something hideous.
We walk around a little bit more. Another classroom I peer into has things that appeal to me much more, but I can tell it’s just basic textiles. Learning how to cut and piece things together. Attending this school means I may have to sit through several of those before I can move on. Since I’m self-taught, I’m sure there is room for me to improve in that area, but I’m not particularly interested in learning how to make something cookie-cutter.
We walk back through the courtyard and I take in the students. Nobody looks at ease. Some are stressed, some looktoosure of themselves. After more than an hour of exploration and contemplation, we head back toward the admissions office to turn in our visitor cards.
As I stand in front of the box with my application in hand, I remember everything that I saw here. Is it possible that being at Jane’s, helping budding artists flourish with creativity makes me more happy than a fancy fashion institute?
Theo gazes at me curiously. “A penny for your thoughts?”
“I’m feeling generous today.” I smile. “I’ll give them to you for free.”
“Such a selfless creature.”
I smile, then pause. Somewhat more serious. “Would I be letting my dad down if I decided not to apply?
“I think it would depend on your reason.”
Theo lets me consider. Whatismy reason for walking away?
It’s no longer fear. Standing here in front of this admissions office, application in hand, I know I could if I wanted to. There is no monster waking up inside of me, ready to shred and take this away from me. I don’t want to dash into a corner or hide from sight. My palms aren’t sweating with the knowledge that I’ll never be good enough.
The simple fact is, I don’t think this institute will make me happy.
“I’m not afraid,” I tell Theo, meaning it. “But I don’t think this institute is where I belong.”
“I can say with certainty that your dad wouldn’t want you doing something that doesn’t contribute to your happiness,” Theo says. “And being willing to walk away from something you’ve spent your entire life imagining because you can recognize it’s not for you after all? I think that takes more bravery than applying.”
I smile, walk over to the trash, and drop my application.
“Your dad would be proud,” Theo tells me.
The cool thing is, I know he’s right.
Last Year - Theo
