How to Be Brave(53)

“You’re the one who convinced me to do it,” I whisper back. “Thank you.”

“How many more do you have left?”

“Oh. I’m not doing it anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“No reason.” Just that numbers 13 through 15 became completely irrelevant the minute I kissed Gregg and you kissed Daniel. “Just … it was pointless to do it alone.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Georgia.” Why are you apologizing? “Well, where is it?”

“I ripped it up … and threw it away.”

Liss looks like she’s about to smack me, but before she can say or do anything, Daniel and Avery and Chloe come back around. Of all the people to be here tonight, I did not expect the cheerleading squad to show up.

“Aren’t they amazing?” Liss says.

Daniel nods. “I can totally see Lee Mullican in your work, but like, they’re yours, you know?”

“You looked him up?”

“Yeah … I was curious,” he says. “Great stuff, for sure.”

Avery cuts in. “Yeah, they’re, um…” She fumbles for her words. I don’t know why, but I can’t wait to hear what she thinks of them. “They’re really colorful.…”

That’s the nicest thing she could come up with?

Chloe steps in. “I think they’re all so beautiful. I really love the one of Liss. I knew it was her the minute I saw it.”

I have to give Chloe credit. She actually is a nice person.

“Wow,” I say. “Thanks. That really means a lot.”

I’m about to ask them more about prom, but then Carissa comes up to introduce me to a couple who is interested in one of my paintings. I can’t not talk to them.

“Tomorrow,” Liss whispers before I can get away. “Can we talk?”

I nod. “Tomorrow.”

And I’m swept away to talk business with an actual art buyer.

It’s all just unbelievable.

*

Liss and the rest of them leave for an after-party (“You should join us later!”). Around 10:45, the crowd starts to thin a bit. I wander over to my paintings, where three of them have SOLD signs attached to their corners.

Eighty dollars each. Times three. I just made $240.

I am a working artist.

But then I hear that little voice. It’s my mom’s voice.

This is what she’s saying:

There’s no money in art.

There’s little appreciation.

Even Lee Mullican. He died mostly forgotten.

Even me.

They’ll forget me when I’m gone.

Was it all worth it?

That was at her worst. And that wasn’t even really her. That was the infection, the sugar, her slowly dying mind.

I shake that image of her out of my head and force myself to remember her at her best. This is what she would have said: I’m proud of who you are, Georgia. I’m proud of who you’ve become.

This is what she did say to me.

Her letter is there in my pocket.

*

The night has been magical and wondrous. Yet all things magical and wondrous must come to an end sometime, so after the last few stragglers head out the door, my dad and I say our good-byes to Carissa and Marquez and head home. I could join Liss and Daniel at the after-party, but I’m just not in the mood. Or, I should say, I’m in too good of a mood. All I want right now is to be at home with Dad, to go to bed happy, and to wake up to a new morning where everything is pretty much okay.

But when we get to the car, Dad asks me if I want to get some ice cream. He’s wide awake (all those tiny shots of espresso, I think), but even more than that, he’s happy, too.

“Sure,” I say. “But where? I can’t imagine any ice-cream places open at 11:30 on a Friday.”

“I know of a great little spot that serves ice cream where we will have the whole place to ourselves,” Dad says.

He drives us over to the restaurant. He unlocks the door and tells me to sit in the front booth. He turns on the lights just so he can see enough to make us a sundae, then turns them all off so that the only light coming in is from the outside street lamps. As people walk by, they give us funny looks, surprised looks, envious looks.

*

And this is what it’s like:

I’m eating ice cream in the dark front booth with my dad with all of Chicago outside our window,

horns and taxis and sirens.

The night is alive around us.

And I can see us sitting here

just like they can see us sitting here.

I see it, and I know that this moment is good,

that this is one of the most perfect moments

of my life.

This is all I need,

right now,

to be here with him.

This is all I want.





14

It’s 3:23 A.M. when I’m woken up by the annoying ding-a-ling-ding, ding-a-ling-ding of a text. Damn it. I forgot to turn it off. I blink my eyes and try to focus on the soft slants of light coming through the blinds. Wait a minute. It might have been Liss. That’s not annoying. That’s nothing short of awesome.

I jump out of bed and dig my phone out of my bag.

It’s Evelyn.

Huh.

I haven’t heard from her in months. She’s the last person I would expect to hear from, especially at this time of night.