I exhaled. Rowan and Juniperwerereally my friends. I didn’t question that for a second.
Mom continued. “I agree you should talk to Nilusha about this first, though. She’ll be able to tell you how influential Dasha really is in the industry. Because maybe she’ll think the connection with Christopher Chan would be better for your application.”
“Yeah, I’m hopefully going to talk to her today,” I said.
“Excellent. Let me know what happens. Oh, by the way, in case you come home, I’m going to Hamilton for a few days because of a new hotel opening, and your father’s been working long hours on a new case. We’ll be home late Friday night, though. It would be great to see you!”
I agreed and said goodbye, promising to call later.
When Gia and I got to the store to work with Shar, I didn’t really think much about anything until my phone rang around noon. It was Nilusha. Shar let me go outside to take the call. I walked around to the side of the building as I answered.
“What’s going on, Tahira?” Nilusha asked, breezily. “You need any help with that amazing design you showed me for your competition? If you need somewhere to put the sculpture after you’re done with it, my studio is a little bare—just saying...”
“What? No...I have a dilemma and I need advice.” I exhaled. “I’m thinking of pulling out of the competition.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this.
“Why? You’ve been working so hard!”
“I know, I know. I...I was invited to do this photo shoot and in-depth profile for Dasha Payne—you know, that stylist turned—”
“Oh my God, I know whoDasha Payneis, Tahira. I’m doing that photo shoot with her, too!”
“She’s doing a profile on you, too?”
“No, not a profile. But I’ll be in a group spread on Friday, and at the swank party on Saturday. They asked me for a profile, too, but after talking to them, it was clear they wanted to focus on the fact that I’m using a cane right now. That kind of put a bad taste in my mouth, you know? I’m onlytemporarilydisabled—if they’re going to do a spotlight on a disabled fashion designer, then it should be someone who isn’t going to be getting better in four to six weeks. I gave them the name of a former classmate of mine who’s hard of hearing. Oh, did I tell you I hired a disability consultant to help me adapt some of my designs for people who use mobility aids?”
“That’s cool.” I paused, thinking. “Do you think they only asked me because I’m brown and Muslim?”
“Maybe. Is that a problem for you? I mean, you really are brown and Muslim. It’s not temporary, like my disability.”
I guess it didn’t bother me. I mean, I’d been held back from fashion opportunities because of my religion, and I had no doubt I would be seeing a ton of racism and religious intolerance when I started working for real. So was it a big deal to get an opportunity thanks to something that would probably be more of a liability later? I leaned my head against the brick wall.
“But listen, Tahira,” Nilusha said, “even if they asked you so they could tick off a box, it’s also because you’re amazing. It’s a great opportunity for someone starting out. And selfishly, it’d be awesome to see you there.”
“I haven’t decided if I’m doing it yet. I have the Bloom this weekend.”
“It’s your decision, but the people at theDashStyleparty I would introduce you to! We need to decide what you’re wearing. Any chance you’d wear a Bhatt original?”
“Rowan can’t be in the Bloom if I leave. He won’t have enough team members.”
“He looked so dazzling on your Instagram last week. Bring him along! I can get him into the party. Hell, even without you and me, that jawline could get him into the party.”
I couldn’t imagine it. Rowan and his plant T-shirts and flip-flops at a fashion party? Of course he’d let me dress him however I wanted, but still. Being surrounded by hundreds of people like Gia and Matteo would be his idea of hell.
“No, the Bloom is too important to him. Also, it was supposed to be important for me, too. Remember? Christopher Chan is going to be at the Grand Floral Cup?”
“Oh, he’s still doing it? I was going to ask you about that. I read yesterday that Christopher Chan was taking this designer-in-residence post for some art museum in Helsinki in the fall, but I suppose—”
“What? Let me check...” I switched my call to speaker and went to the Grand Floral Cup site. And yup. There had been a judge change. Christopher Chan was out; some bridal florist to the stars was in.
“Shoot,” I said. “You’re right. He’s not even going to be there.”
“I’m sorry, honey. But that should make your decision easier, at least?”
Did it? It didn’t feel any easier.
“Tahira, you’re in a hard spot,” Nilusha said. “If you feel it’s important to stay and do your flower competition, then other opportunities will come up. But honestly? You can make some killer connections here this weekend. What do your instincts tell you?”
My instincts told me there was nothing more important than my Plan. My goals.
