Though he reaches for my phone hesitantly, my pulse slows as he mutters a quiet, “All right.”
After I tell him my passcode, I watch him intently, registering every minute change in his facial expression. He’s reading, brows furrowed, eyes moving far too slowly for my liking, and even though I know it takes him only a handful of seconds, to me, it feels like hours. Anticipation blurs the world at the edges of my vision, my stomach suddenly dropping like I’m on the craziest rollercoaster of my life.
“You got in!”
The words echo in the space between my ears as Dad jumps out of his chair to run around the table. He captures me tightly in his arms and spins me round. Disoriented, it takes me a moment to realize he’s crying.
“You did it, Bug! You did it!” he exclaims jubilantly.
The realization hits me slower than it should have. He hasn’t called me that since I was a young child. Bug. A nickname he gave me during my short-lived obsession with caterpillars and butterflies. Strangely enough, hearing the nickname revived sends my heart soaring higher than the acceptance does.
“What’s all the commotion about?” Mom asks, framed by the doorway and clad in her robe and slippers.
“She got in!” Dad’s grin is brighter than the sun. “Maeve’s going to art school!”
Mom squeals as she runs to hug me too. “Ahhh!” Once she has me in her clutches, she kisses me everywhere: cheeks, forehead, lips, eyelids, anywhere her lips can access.
Gideon and Everly show up shortly after, still in their pajamas. Before long, we’re all on the dining room floor in a dog pile, and I sear yet another new favorite moment into my memory.
When the rush of excitement fades, Dad reads the entire email to us. They want me there for orientation on Friday—tomorrow—so that I can start classes on Monday. Since I’m starting after the beginning of the semester, I’m sure they want me there as soon as possible so I don’t fall any further behind. But still, this is all happening so fast. I feel like I’m standing in the eye of a tornado, watching my whole life get ripped up and strewn about. I’m grateful, but I’m also incredibly overwhelmed.
Mom doesn’t hesitate to call off of work, and Dad lets the kids’ school know they won’t be coming in today.
“Today is family day,” they’d proudly declared.
Since I only have one day to pack, the entire family offers their help. We buy cardboard boxes and drag several dusty pieces of luggage up from the basement. We make three separate shopping trips, funded by the overnight success of my online shop, ensuring that I’ll have all of the essentials I need for dorm life. Around three in the afternoon, we eat a late lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my near-empty bedroom.
“But I’ll miss you,” Everly whines as her warm brown eyes fill with tears.
Massive, messy emotions seesaw back and forth in my mind––my desire to banish every source of sadness in my sister’s life wars with my desire to run full speed towardLizbeth.
I say in what I hope is a convincing tone, “I’ll miss you too, Evie, but I promise I’ll come home to visit as often as I can.”
“And we’ll take trips to visit her at school too,” Mom adds. “After all, we’re going to want to see all the beautiful art your sister makes. Aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” Gideon agrees, head bobbing like a cherubic bobblehead. “We’ll make trips like we do for Gray!”
“Exactly,” Dad declares.
Everly nods as she wipes the moisture from her eyes. “Can I make a pretty picture for you to take with you?” she asks, gaze whirling on me.
“You want to draw me a picture?” I ask. She’s never offered to make me anything before.
She shakes her head emphatically. “No, silly. I’llpaintyou a picture.”
Now it’s my turn to tear up. A fierce heat builds behind my eyes as I murmur, “I would love that.”
Everly and I spend the next thirty minutes going through all of my child-safe acrylic paints and picking out her favorite colors. My phone rings after she’s started her project. I answer it as Mom and Dad start carrying boxes down to the foyer, Gideon guiding them with flailing arms like an overexcited train conductor.
My voice is half a laugh as I say, “Hello?”
“Babe! What the hell?” Noah asks, concern lacing his voice. “Why haven’t I heard from you all day? Is it bad news?”
Shit.I completely forgot to call him and tell him I got in... and that they want me to be there tomorrow.This conversation isn’t going to go well.
“I’m so sorry, Noah. No, it’s great news. I got in! I’m sorry I forgot to call or text you. My family’s been helping me pack all day, so I’ve been really distracted,” I explain breathlessly.
“Babe, that’s great! I had no doubt they’d accept you. Wait—did you say packing?”
