by Heron, Farah
I’d be nuts to turn this down. Could I do both the Bloom and this? The competition was on Saturday morning—I could rush to Toronto right after it to make it for the profile. But then I’d miss the Friday photo shoot. The profile was supposed to be for people in the photo shoot. I didn’t see how it was possible to do both.
Juniper went straight into their house when we got home, but Rowan lingered on the driveway. “Did you want to hang out a bit?” he asked. He could obviously tell there was something on my mind, but I wasn’t ready to tell him about it yet.
It was late, and the sky was pure black. Clouds had moved in, so the millions of stars weren’t even visible. The empty black sky was as disconcerting as the millions of stars.
I had a lot of thinking to do, and I needed a clear head to make this decision. Also? I maybe sort of wanted to prolong it before telling him.
“I’m beat,” I said. “I think I better go to bed.”
He looked a little bit disappointed. “Okay. Good night.” He kissed me briefly. “Breakfast tomorrow?”
We’d gotten into the habit of eating breakfast early in the garden on days we both worked.
I nodded. “I’ll be there. Good night, Rowan.”
He stayed in the garden watching me as I went into the tiny house.
After changing and washing my face, I sat on my bed and tried not to cry while weighing my options. The door burst open. Gia was home already?
“Why exactly didn’t you tell me what Matteo’s call was about, Tahira?” she said before the door had even closed.
I climbed down the ladder from the loft so this conversation could happen face-to-face.
“Matteo called again?” I asked, plopping down on the chair.
“He did. Seriously, Tahira. Dasha Payne. Why weren’t you screaming for joy? Why aren’t you packing your bags right this minute?”
I shrugged.
Gia shook her head, clearly unbelieving. “You’re way out of touch lately, girl. I can’t even process that we can be in one of her fashion spreads. And she wants to do an article about you. My own best friend. And my cousin, but he’s still the black sheep of the family, so whatevs.”
“I didn’t agree to do it, Gia. We’d have to drop out of the Bloom.”
Gia flopped onto her bed. “So?”
“So people are counting on us. And what about my Plan? Being in the competition is to catch the attention of Christopher Chan, remember?”
“A profile on your design work on Dasha Payne’s site will catch Christopher Chan’s attention. I checked, T—he totally interacts with her on Insta all the time.”
I exhaled. That, I hadn’t known.
“This is it, T,” Gia continued. “Everything we’ve been working toward. All those hours learning photography, you with the designing, the hours we’ve spent on photo shoots, the lighting, the editing, the scouting the best locations. We’re finally there. We could be famous before we’re even eighteen.”
“I’m not doing all this for fame! It’s supposed to be about the designs, G,” I said, curling my legs under me on the pine chair.
“And don’t you think people are going to want more House of Tahira shirts when you’re famous?” She paused. “This isn’t because of Rowan, is it?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t told him.”
Gia shook her head. “You need to get your priorities straight, girl. Don’t let a gardener hold you back from your dreams. Actually, don’t let any guy hold you back. That’s not you.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t letting Rowan hold me back, was I?
Gia sighed. “Tahira, you’re my girl, so I’m going to be straight with you. I know I’d just be riding your coattails, but Dasha doesn’t want Matteo and me unless you do it. You’re the star. We’re just the sidekicks. If you don’t do this, we’ll lose the opportunity.”
I looked up at her.
“Don’t forget who’s been there for you,” she continued. “Matteo and I have been modeling for you for months. I’m always there to take pictures when you need them. When you found out you’d be stuck in this shit town all summer, I quit my job to come with you.”
Yeah, Gia had done all that.
“It sucks to upset Rowan and Juniper,” Gia said, “but you’d be letting down your older friends if you stay here. The ones who’ve done a hell of a lot more than just teach you about flowers.”
“What about Shar and the store?” I asked. We both had Friday and Saturday off for the Bloom, but we were supposed to work Thursday and Sunday. The photo shoot was early Friday morning, and the rooftop party late on Saturday night.
“I talked to Shar,” Gia said. “The light was on when Cam dropped me off. She thinks we should go.”
“You spoke to my aunt behind my back?” I crossed my arms, annoyed.
“Yeah.” Her jaw was set. “My best friend taught me to go after what I want, and I did. Shar is fine—she already hired a temp for Friday and Saturday, and she can ask her to work a couple more days. My dad agreed to drive us back here Sunday, so we’ll be fine to work Monday. Matteo borrowed his brother’s car and can pick us up here on Thursday morning, so we can still work our shift tomorrow. Everything is sorted, Tahira. All you have to do is say yes.”
I blew out a puff of air. She made it seem so easy. Go get the exposure that could make my career, or stay here for . . .
For what exactly? I wasn’t going to New York unless we won the Bloom. But . . . I really did think we had a chance to win. And even if we didn’t win, I was going to use pictures of the sculpture in my portfolio, along with all the drawings I’d done beforehand.
Which option—staying and doing the Bloom, or going and doing the photo shoot—would be better for my career?
“Have you asked your parents?” Gia asked.
“It’s late,” I said. “I’ll call them in the morning.”
“You should talk to Nilusha Bhatt, too. Isn’t a mentor supposed to, you know, help with career decisions?”
Gia was right. Nilusha and I had been talking about once a week since I got here, mostly about my designs (both fashion and floral). She had returned to Toronto recently. I sent her a quick email, telling her I needed to talk tomorrow.
“Okay.” I got up from the chair. “I . . . I’m going to sleep.” I headed back to my loft.
“You’ll give this serious thought, Tahira? Matteo will need an answer tomorrow. Three, at the latest.”
I nodded as I climbed the ladder to my bed. “Thanks for sorting out the details, G. I’ll think about it.” I’d probably do more thinking about this decision than sleeping tonight.
But I was wrong. I didn’t think about it that much. I didn’t sleep much, either. Instead, I spent most of the night trying to stop picturing the look on Rowan’s face when he’d said good night earlier. I was terrified I’d be seeing more of that disappointment again tomorrow.
23
NOT A GOODBYE
I was sitting out on the outdoor sofa at eight the next morning with my chai and toast, waiting for Rowan. We had promised to be honest with each other, and I planned to keep that promise.
Rowan showed up five minutes later, coffee in hand. He sat across from me and rubbed his face. “Morning,” he said. He looked like he hadn’t really slept, either.
“Hi,” I said. “We need to talk.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I figured. So, you going to tell me what your ex wanted from you yesterday?”
I nodded. “I have a decision to make.”
Rowan was quiet a second, then spoke. “Why would you have to decide anything when it comes to him? After the way he treated you?” There was anger in his voice. A touch of that old venom.
“It’s not him I’m considering. It’s an opportunity. This big-name style blogger is coming to Toronto and wants to do a profile on me and Matteo.”
“You broke up. Why would the two of you be in a profile together? Have you still been talking to him?”
I recoiled. “Jesus, Rowan, no
, of course not. I told you I blocked him everywhere. I promised you I’d be honest with you, and I have been.”
“Okay, so then why a profile together?”
“Because we collaborated so much. He’s an emerging model; I’m an emerging designer. The blogger is profiling the people she thinks will be the next big thing in fashion in major style cities across North America. It would be a ton of exposure for me. A real game changer.”
He exhaled. “Okay, I get it. I do. I may not like it, but you should do this.”
I paused. “It’s this weekend. Gia was invited, too.”
He shook his head and glanced toward the greenhouse, where the frame of our sculpture rested near the workbench. “This weekend.”
“I wish it was any other time,” I said.
He turned back quickly to face me. “So, you’d just leave the Bloom? Let down the team, and our chance of winning? I thought the Bloom was important for your career.”
“Winning the Bloom would be great for my FIT application. Meeting Christopher Chan, going to New York, it would all be a huge boost. Even mentioning the Bloom in my application would help, I think. But this opportunity? This is about visibility. This is more about my whole career than just getting into FIT.”
“Sounds like there’s no decision here. You’ve already made up your mind.” His jaw was tight.
“I haven’t made up my mind. Not yet. I’m going to talk to my parents and Nilusha about it first. I might be able to do both. Maybe if I can convince Matteo to come up right after the Bloom closes, then—”
“Don’t even bother.”
I met his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “It means I should have known that all this was temporary. It means I knew you were only slumming it with us country folk, waiting for a better deal to come along. Honestly? You told me about five minutes after we met that you didn’t want to be here. I don’t know why I thought anything had changed.”
I blinked. That hurt. He was right, though. I had said that. But he knew I didn’t feel that way anymore, right? I’d told him how much he, and Juniper, too, meant to me. All of Bakewell meant something to me. Whatever choice I made was going to hurt a friend, and he had to know how hard that was for me.
I shook my head. “Rowan, don’t be like this. You know me. You’re driven, I’m driven. You’re trying to make something of yourself to prove you can be the best at what you want to do, and I am trying to do the same. That’s why I’m considering this. Not because I don’t want to be here. Not because I don’t care enough about you.” I sighed as I ran my finger over the flower design on my chai mug. “I admit, I do feel like this summer has changed me. It’s going to be so fucking hard to leave Bakewell in two weeks. It’s killing me that I might have to hurt you all right now. But that doesn’t mean I care any less about my goals or my Plan than I did when I got here. I am still going to make my dreams come true.”
He frowned, blinking.
And really, that was it. As much as my world had turned upside down and as much as I felt so different here, he was right about one thing: this was temporary. Just a summer job. No matter what, I was eventually going home. Old Tahira—Toronto Tahira—wouldn’t have had to think twice about this; she would have just gone to the photo shoot. Was that who I was going to be when I was back in Toronto in a few weeks?
But one part of me that had not changed, that would never change, was that I still wanted my dream. I wanted it so bad I could almost taste it. There was nothing else I could imagine doing with my life but designing fashion.
And achieving success meant making hard choices sometimes, right?
Rowan didn’t say anything, but he looked disappointed again. I hated that look on him.
I stared at my now-cold chai. “I don’t know if I’ll go,” I said. “But if I do, you still have my design. The frame is done. Leanne can take our place on the team, mine and Gia’s. Leanne’ll probably be stoked to be back with you and June. You can still enter . . . still win without me.”
“Leanne can’t take your spot. She’s going to a rabbit show on the weekend, remember?”
My heart sank. Damn. I’d forgotten. If I left, Rowan and June wouldn’t have enough team members. They’d have to drop out.
“Then . . .” Ugh. I didn’t know what to say. I thought for a few seconds. “I need to talk to my parents and Nilusha. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can—”
“Don’t, Tahira.” He ran his hand over his face. After closing his eyes briefly, he shook his head. “Just don’t. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do this. If this thing is that important for your career, then you should go.” His gorgeous eyes were so sad and resigned.
“But the Bloom is important for your career!”
We stared at each other for several long seconds. Finally, I spoke quietly. “I know this is a decision I have to make by myself. When I couldn’t face all the stars in the sky, you held my hand, and I . . . I’m so grateful to you for that. But now I need to face them alone, with my eyes open.” I looked down. “Matteo is calling me this afternoon. I’ll call you and let you know what I decide.”
Rowan nodded. “I’m working late tonight. To make up the time I took off for the Bloom.”
“I’ll call you anyway.”
He nodded. “Okay. Have a good day, Tahira.” He got up and walked into his house. No hug, no kiss, not even a goodbye.
But that was good. Because I didn’t want him thinking of this as a goodbye. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
After Rowan was gone, I had a few minutes before we had to leave for the store, so I called Mom. I told her the whole situation.
“That’s excellent news, Tahira! Dasha Payne! All that hard work is really paying off. I’m so proud of you.”
“So you think I should come home for this? I’d be disappointing my friends.”
“If they were really your friends, they’d understand how great this is.”
I exhaled. Rowan and Juniper were really 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 who Dasha Payne is, 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 only temporarily disabled—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 the DashStyle party 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.