Happily Ever Afters
Page 28
The class starts to fill in shortly after, and Ms. McKinney directs them all to sit down. We will be going straight into workshop. I thought it would help with the anxiety, jumping right in. But I still have to push down the fear that’s burning in the back of my throat, the familiar scratchy feeling prickling on my chest and my neck.
I can do this. It will be hard. It will be scary. But I can do this.
As my packets are passed around the circle, I take one more opportunity to look around the room, scanning past the faces of the people who have intimidated me all semester in search of the one I hope to see. Nico is here, his face a mask of indifference, but he’s not who I’m looking for.
This morning, I taped my final pages on the door to the culinary arts studio, accompanied by a note.
Dear Sam,
This is for me, but it’s also for you. Can you meet me in the Bungalow’s basement for conservatory?
Love, Tessa
He’s not here, I see, but I guess I already knew that. I would have felt it if he had entered the room, the tug of his energy on mine. His butter-and-sugar scent. I’m disappointed. I want him to be here, but I also know I will be okay in this moment if he’s not. This is the big finale of two love stories that became intertwined, but when I separate them, really parse them out, the one for myself comes first. I can stand here on my own.
I take a deep breath, look down at my paper, and begin to read.
My body and voice feel huge, like I’m taking up all the space in the room. I imagine if I could see myself, I would look like Alice after she ate that cake in Wonderland, limbs sticking out of windows and chimneys. But it doesn’t terrify me like it always has. For how little I’ve shared this year, I deserve all this space. I deserve the whole room.
I read my love story, what I’ve labored over all weekend. It’s a story of an insecure girl and a dorky boy, though only one had something to overcome. Of dances of romance to Dream Zone, dairy-free ice cream, zip-off cargos, and Hawaiian shirts. Of a sparkly night high above everyone else, toes in the Pacific Ocean, and so many conversations over dessert in a warm car. Of fear and mistakes and risk. Of sugar and brown butter and flour.
It’s fluffy and it has too many adjectives and it veers into the territory of purple prose, but it also makes Angelica swoon next to me. I can hear it in her sigh, feel it in the energy of her fidgety fingers.
I’m intoxicated with the magic of it all, being able to share my words with others. And I wouldn’t have been able to experience this joy, this rush, without first taking the risk of sharing myself. Without saying, Here. This is something I love, please love it too.
I thought I needed a real-life love story of my own to start writing again. And I did find love with Sam—I know that now. But what I really needed, to find my words and my voice again, was to love myself. And I do.
I just have to trust that like I found my way back to myself, I’ll get back to Sam too. And if I don’t, well, I’ll also be okay.
By the time I get to the last page, my voice is hoarse and my face is wet. I’m not sure when that happened. I should feel embarrassed, but instead I feel a tremendous release, like every cell in my body has been traded out for new ones. In this crowded basement, my voice and my words as the catalyst, I have been transformed.
I finally look up, ready—and shockingly—excited to take the criticism of the group. I can’t wait to hear what they think, good or bad, because I know that whatever is said won’t shake me down to nothing. I have a secure foundation holding me up now.
I scan the faces in the room one more time, but my eyes are drawn like magnets to the basement stairs. A flutter in my chest, a catch in my throat. I see him standing there.
Acknowledgments
First to Danielle Parker: You are responsible for putting the ridiculous idea in my head that I could do this. Thank you for that spark and for your friendship.
Kristin Botello, your mentorship transformed me as a person. Thank you for always cheering me on, calling me out, and pushing me to be better. I’m sorry that I left, but I hope I’ve made you proud.
To all my former students: Kierra, Kayla, Kyla, Maaliyah, DJ, Jose, Terence, Jorge, Kevin, Edward, Misael, Israel, Miguel, Alexis, Melissa, Alex, Leslie, Andy, all the Anthonys, Bryan, Omar, Shadia, Victor, Hannalene, Tywayne, Eddie, and so many more. Thank you for showing me what it looks like to do hard things with grace, humor, and tenacity. You brought so much joy to my life as I wrote the first draft of this book (and the one before that), and I am so grateful for the little part I’ve played in your stories. I love you all.
Taylor Haggerty, thank you for believing in me so much that I had no choice but to believe in myself. Thank you for matching all my exclamation points and smiley faces in emails and for effortlessly calming all my worries. You are my superhero, and I’m so grateful for our partnership. Many thanks, also, to everyone at Root Literary, especially Melanie Castillo. Heather Baror-Shapiro and Debbie Deuble Hill, thank you for helping me to bring Tessa’s story to an even wider audience.
Alessandra Balzer, thank you for your sharp eye, kind delivery, and patience (so much patience!) while I learned on the go. You sifted through all my overwritten drafts and shined up my book until it was something I could be proud of. Working with you is a dream that I hope I never wake up from.
Thank you to everyone at Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins, especially Caitlin Johnson, Valerie Wong, Ebony LaDelle, Jane Lee, Aubrey Churchward, Renée Cafiero, Alison Donalty, Andrea Pappenheimer, Kerry Moynagh, Kathy Faber, Patty Rosati, Mimi Rankin, Katie Dutton, and anyone else who helped this book along the way. Jessie Gang, thank you for the perfect cover design. Michelle D’Urbano, your cover art still makes me cry on a weekly basis and probably will forever. Thank you for getting it so right.
To the first ones to read this story: Sarah Lavelle, thank you for giving me the encouragement I needed to be brave and keep going at the very beginning. And Katherine Locke, thank you for your spot-on feedback and for your patience and support while I learned what to do with it.
Thank you to Ellen Rozek, Danielle Seybold, Kathrene Faith Binag, and others for reading so carefully and thoughtfully, and for challenging me to make each character the best they could be.
Susan Lee and Tracy Deonn, thank you for being my first writing friends, even before I dared to call myself a writer. Your support and advice along the way has been invaluable. Natalie Parker, Tessa Gratton, Zoraida Cordova, and Justina Ireland, thank you for building the wonderful community that is Madcap. My first retreat was the perfect environment to begin writing this story, and I hope I’ll be lucky enough to attend many more. Leah Koch, thank you for reading my book and for writing a blurb that would have made teenage Elise pass out (thirty-something Elise got pretty close). And two of my writing heroes: Becky Albertalli and Brandy Colbert. The fact that you two even know who I am still blows my mind because I’ve cherished your words for so many years. Thank you for your kindness and for making me feel like I belong.
So much love and gratitude go to the women who have made it possible for me to do this, by filling in the gaps, supporting me and my family, and/or helping me feel well. Thank you to: Sonia Ramirez, Dr. Mireya Hernandez, Shannon Kennedy, Dr. Noreen Hussaini, Alexa King, and so many others.
Mom and Dad, you raised me to believe that I could do anything if I worked hard enough. Thank you for giving me the strong and secure foundation that made that possible, and for being such consistent examples of selflessness and persistence. (Mom, you always said I would write a book, and just because I know you love to hear it: You were right. You’re always right.) (Dad, I’m sorry about all the kissing.)
Bryan, being your sister is one of my greatest joys. You are my compass for what is right and what is funny. We are going to visit this book in Barnes & Noble together and I am going to cry and you’re going to make fun of me and then wander over to the National Geographic section. I can’t wait. And Rachal, my little sister, though you functioned more li
ke my big sister as I decided to try writing again. Thank you for believing in me, for encouraging me, and convincing me I wasn’t wasting my time. I promise you’ll be in another one.
Joe, my love, thank you for reading everything, making dinner every night, telling me to take a nap, and meeting all my increasingly bonkers what-ifs with enthusiasm. I’m so grateful to be partners in our happily ever after with you.
And to Tallulah and Coretta: I hope that seeing me achieve my impossible dream shows you that you can claim the space you deserve and chase what you want, without apology. I’ll be here cheering you on, always. I love you, my brilliant, beautiful girls.
About the Author
Photo by Rachal McCutchen
ELISE BRYANT was born and raised in Southern California. She earned her BA in Africana studies from California State University, Long Beach, and her MA in special education from Loyola Marymount University. For many years, Elise had the joy of working as a special education teacher in South Los Angeles, and she is also a national board certified teacher. Elise now lives with her husband and two daughters in Long Beach, where she spends her days reading, writing, and eating dessert. Happily Ever Afters is her debut novel. You can visit her online at www.elisebryant.com.
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Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
HAPPILY EVER AFTERS. Copyright © 2021 by Elise Bryant. Interior emojis copyright © 2021 by Cosmic_Dreams / Shutterstock. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art © 2021 by Michelle Rosella D’Urbano
Cover design by Jessie Gang
Digital Edition JANUARY 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-298285-8
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-298283-4
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FIRST EDITION
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