by Lowe, T. I.
He chuckles lightly as he tilts his head to the side. Hope was right about the tattoo. It’s a memorial to his parents. As I’m looking over the intricate details, his neck moves as he begins to talk. “What’s a photography major doing in an advanced sketch class? You confused about what you want to be when you grow up or something?”
I lean away, so he takes this as me concluding my inspection and sits up straight. “No. It’s photography all the way. This class was added to my schedule by mistake. I figured I’d give it a go.” I shrug.
“How’s it going?” Duke asks as he tries to open my sketch pad. I plop my hand down on top of it to prevent him.
I shake my head. “Not so well.”
Students begin trickling in at this point and Hope is back, sitting on top of the teacher’s desk. She’s giving me two thumbs up, and I give her an eye roll. I guess I have a new buddy.
Chapter Seven
The spring semester hurries along until we’re past spring break and the conclusion of classes is in sight. The campus is abuzz with the warm sultry spring that already feels like summer. Not really unusual in this humid southern town with the ocean beckoning from nearly every side. Charleston always feels to be on the brink of vacation. Flip flops are a fashion must almost year round.
I’ve never had a guy friend before—only a few rare boyfriends my dad cautiously let near, but Duke is different. Our relationship feels closer to siblings than mere friends. Does he flirt? Absolutely, but I know it’s just for fun. We hang out most days between and after classes. It’s nice since Trina is going to another in-state college and I don’t feel so lonely with Duke around. He’s the most laidback person I have ever met and so yes, I’ve thanked Hope for nudging me into talking to him. It would have been a shame to have missed out on such a friendship due to my preconceptions of him. And shame on me for being that way. A major life lesson with this friendship didn’t get past me unnoticed. I’m a biracial young woman and should know better. Hope is right. It’s time I take my blinders down and really start looking at others. I’m missing out on a lot of life.
Duke helps me out with my hideous sketches with reserved patience. Since the accident, I don’t have much of this quality. He puts up with me, which is surprising. Even when I throw my sketch pad, he always retrieves it with a smirk of amusement. Maybe that’s why he puts up with me—I’m entertainment.
I find absolutely nothing wrong with the dude and see no reason why he would need any help from me. I don’t understand why Hope has forced the friendship, but I’m thankful for it just the same. Contrary to his outer appearance, Duke is very grounded.
Today, we are hanging out in the University Commons and I’m whining about being so behind on credits needed for my major. I’ve kept the accident to myself, but have already filled Duke in on my abrupt change in majors for my junior year. Saying it out loud to someone has made me see how bizarre this choice seems.
“That’s what happens when you make such a far-out change in majors. You didn’t just slide in a slightly different route, sweetheart. You dived off the cliff, head first, into a totally different field.” Duke is shaking his purple head in bemusement.
“Well, I’m not one to do things half-tailed,” I sass, making him laugh.
“No doubt,” he says as he scans my classes needed list. “What have you found for summer?”
“Photo Appreciation is the only thing they are offering as a summer course that I need, but I was hoping for at least two more courses.” I flip through the summer schedule one more time just in case I overlooked a class. “I could get my internship out of the way, but nothing is available that I can find.”
I glance up and find Duke lost in his thoughts for a few beats before he asks, “What are the requirements for the internship?”
Looking back over the requirements, I rattle them off to him. “Basically, I need to complete a ten-week period with at least thirty-two hours per week to earn eight credits. I also have to turn in a five-page report at the end of the internship. Of course, the university and the chosen business have to approve it.”
“I’ll keep my ears open,” he answers.
“Thanks, Duke,” I say, glancing at my watch. I know from experience that there’s a lull in traffic around campus right now, so I gather my books and stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Duke tugs at my bag. “What’s the rush?”
“Traffic,” I answer and hurry off before he can talk me into staying any longer.
~~~~~
Thanks to some—well let’s be honest—LOTS of pointers from Duke, I am able to scratch through my last sketch today. I’ve just turned it in and am waiting for Professor Norris to comment.
He angles the drawing this way and then that way with a confused look on his face. I’m worried this isn’t a good sign. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and looks over at me. “Well, Miss Carter… Art is supposed to be subjective so let’s finish you with an eighty-seven.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Agreed.”
“Let’s also agree this should probably be your last sketch class.” He’s grinning so I know it’s okay to laugh. He joins in with me.
“Agreed. Thanks for putting up with me.”
“My pleasure.”
With the weight of the final off my shoulders, I gather my belongings and head out of this art room for what I’m sure is the last time. I find Duke waiting on me. He’s propped up against the wall opposite of the class and is scrolling through his phone.
“You pass?” he asks without looking up.
“Yep. You?” I ask back, although I already know the answer. This dude could sketch blindfolded and still smoke the exam. He has a gift when it comes to drawing that blows me away. A few weeks back, he admitted to being the artist who designed all of his tattoos and those babies are pretty impressive.
“Yep,” he mutters as he pushes off the wall and pockets his phone. “Good news.”
We begin heading outside. “What’s that?”
“I found you an internship for the summer.”
I stop in my tracks, causing Duke to stop as well. I had given up on that. “Really? Where?”
“Palmetto Photography Gallery. You’ve got to submit some forms like yesterday, so I suggest you get to it.” He pulls out a stack of papers from his bag and hands them over to me.
“Get out! I’m in shock... I checked with the school and the gallery’s website. They weren’t doing any internship.” I look over the papers in disbelief. Palmetto Photography Gallery is the hottest gallery around. It’s new and the owner is an award-winning superstar photographer.
“Guess they changed their minds.” Duke begins walking again, so I pick my jaw up off the floor and follow him outside where the humid summer morning greets us. “You gotta get it in the mail today.”
“Okay. I can’t thank you enough for finding this for me. Really, Duke. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He gives me a mischievous look and I have no idea what that’s about. Before I can pester him about it, some of his friends join us. They are quickly becoming my friends as well. They are all art majors and can be quirky, but that’s why I like them so much. There’s no social title trying to be won and no one feels the pressure to have to impress anyone.
We all head over to the coffee shop to celebrate me passing the sketch class. It’s become a running joke all semester. I don’t mind. It’s been all in good fun and I am just relieved it’s over with.
After everyone orders their coffee beverage of choice, about a half dozen of us take over the back corner in our usual spot. Everyone is chatting away about their summer plans while I pull out the internship forms and start reading them over. I’m too eager to wait until I get home. If I am chosen, I will rack up eight more credits and will have a better chance of graduating on time next spring. My eyes come to a screeching halt on a particular sentence.
The internship includes a fully furnished room for the summer.
The notion of liv
ing on my own hasn’t even come across my mind yet. I’ve lived one very nice and sheltered life. It’s a safe nest I’ve not considered leaving until this very moment. All of a sudden, this idea seems right. I’m elated as well as scared silly. I see this opportunity as a chance to experience freedom, but I’m not sure I’m ready.
I’m thinking about how my dad will take the news when I look up and find Duke staring at me.
“What’s up?” he asks. I see the worry in those clear eyes.
My camera is resting on the table so I grab it up and snap a picture of him before he can blink. I look at the image on the preview screen and see I’ve captured his concern perfectly.
I decide not to answer him. Really. What am I going to say? I may be almost twenty-one, but I’m scared to live on my own and my dad may not let me. Nope. This group doesn’t need to know all of that. I already feel like a pansy around them.
I just shake my head when I realize he’s still waiting for an answer. “Nothing. I need to get home, so I can work on this paperwork. I’ll call you.” I gather my belongings as everyone tells me their farewells. Duke is still giving me a look, but I ignore his questioning concern and head home. I’ve got a lot to sort out…
I’ve kept busy since I made it home. I finished the intern submissions form and have included a few of my pictures as is required. I chose the rainbow sky for my main one. I also cropped down the one I captured of Duke today. It’s now a close-up of just his eyes and I think it’s amazing. The only thing identifying my subject is the hardware in his eyebrow.
After completing the necessary prerequisites for the internship, I worked on making supper. I chose lasagna because it’s my dad’s favorite. Plus it keeps well when one has no idea when their dinner date may arrive home. It’s been ready for an hour now, but I’ve kept it on warm in the oven.
I walk around the house nervously trying to find something to occupy my time as I wait for Dad to arrive home. I wish Hope would pop up and let me ask her advice, but she has been a no-show today. I wonder if this is it. Making amends with Mom and giving new friendships a chance is all she wanted me to do. I thought the idea of her finally leaving me would make me happy, but it’s sad. Hope has been my constant companion for nearly a year—a very difficult year. I’m going to miss her.
We are sitting at the kitchen island, eating in silence. Dad seems too exhausted to talk and I’m too nervous. He mumbled earlier about having five surgeries and almost clocking over his allotted surgical hours, while he shucked his tie and jacket before digging into supper. He hasn’t spoken since.
I swallow another bite before saying, “I passed all my exams.”
“That’s great, sweetheart. I’m proud of you. You deserved a fun semester.” He goes for another helping as I lose my appetite.
We are back to square one again and now I have to get him on board with my permanent change in major. I look around the kitchen and silently beg Hope to show up and lend me some support, but the room continues to only house my dad and me. “My focus will continue to be photography,” I mumble. I keep staring at my plate, afraid to look up and find his disappointment.
This causes him to set his fork down. “I’m really too tired today to discuss this.”
“There’s no discussing, Dad. This is my decision. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I can’t handle being in the medical field. I barely survived the gore of my own body last year. There’s no way I could ever handle a career dealing with that on a daily basis.” I choke up as I think back over last summer. I couldn’t even stand the sight of my own mangled arm and I only glimpsed the gross gash on my scalp one time before the staples were removed. And speaking of the staple removal—I passed out during that!
Dad seems to lose his appetite, too, and gets up and scrapes the second helping off of his plate into the trash. I just sit and watch. I need to tell him about the internship, so I can mail the submission form off in the morning, but now seems like a really lousy time. He picks up his coat and tie off of the end of the counter along with his briefcase. It’s now or never.
“I’m applying for a photography internship this summer.”
He looks back over to me. “Okay,” he says in defeat, making my stomach ache.
“It provides a room, too.”
Dad places his belongings back down and takes a seat. His exhaustion emits so strongly and I pity him, but not enough to rescind my decision. He shakes his head and rubs his tired face before looking over at me. “I don’t know about that.”
“Look.” I hand him the information sheets I printed off the Internet earlier. “I performed a background check on the owner and the business. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only ten minutes from the campus, which is perfect since I’m registered for a summer class.”
He studies the papers. “You did all of this on your own?” I think he’s impressed although it’s hard to tell with all of his weariness.
“It’s just for the summer, and I really need to try this. Besides, it’s just an application. There’s probably hundreds applying, so I probably won’t even be picked.”
This seems to perk him up a bit. I know what he’s thinking. I’m not very grounded in this major yet. Odds are the internship will go to a more advanced student. If this idea persuades him to let me mail these papers off in the morning, so be it. I have to at least give it a shot.
“The deadline to submit is tomorrow. May I please give this a try?”
“We both know you are a grown woman, Willow. You don’t need my permission, but I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask. For that, yes. Give it a try, but please think long and hard about completely walking away from medicine.”
I stand and lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Eight
The last week has been on some type of fast-forward button. The morning I mailed the submission form off, I figured I was in for a long wait only to be told no. Within two days of mailing it, a young woman called and told me the internship was mine. It felt like fate. I was ecstatic for the entirety of ten minutes until reality set in. I had to officially grow up. It was like I just received my adult license and could not ask for a refund. Maybe this is the necessary shove I’ve needed.
Dad has been very quiet since, except for him barreling in the other night and declaring I would not be doing the internship. He performed his own background check and unearthed the exact information I did, minus one particular page of the owner’s record I threw away without sharing with him.
“He has assault charges on his record!” he yelled.
“From when he was eighteen, Dad!” I yelled back. “That’s been well over a decade.”
“So you knew and weren’t going to tell me.” I saw the disappointment wilt his eyes, and I hated more than anything to disappoint my dad. He is a good man and deserves respect.
“You know as well as I do, teenagers make stupid choices. His record has been clean since then. And do I need to remind you of your own stupid teenage record?” I hated to play that card as much as disappointing my dad, but I had to make a point.
He cringed at my bold statement and walked off without another word. My dad had been arrested for underage drinking at some party when he was sixteen. Lesson learned the hard way and he never made a poor choice like it again.
The next day, Dad came home with an arsenal of pepper spray and asked if I needed a refresher course in self-defense. I hugged him and told him thanks, but I was good. “You let that owner know you mean business. Make sure he sees you have pepper spray.”
I held in the laugh threatening to bubble out and agreed with him. Remembering it now causes me to giggle a bit as I drive along this narrow street. I’ve been driving around this crowded area of Charleston for twenty minutes now, trying to finding a parking spot. Moving in on a Friday was not the best of ideas. I have to keep on my toes with all of the one-way streets.
This is the historical part of Charleston and is home to the landmark s
eawall known as the Battery. It stretches along the Charleston shores, bordered by the Ashley and Cooper Rivers, making up the Charleston Harbor. Antebellum homes line the congested streets and weave around the charming park. I’ve already driven by it twice now, but I don’t mind with the scene being so nice. Moss-draped ancient oaks stand guard over the area that houses historical statues and massive cannons I remember climbing on as a child. The grand view of the harbor beckons visitors year round and makes finding decent parking one heck of a task.
I’m close to giving up, when a spot vacates close enough to the photo gallery. It takes another ten minutes to gather my bags and lug them down the sidewalk to the building where I finally push through the door and am greeted with a cool, quiet space.
Palmetto Photography Gallery is a place I could get lost in with dark stained floors that welcome you to walk around and inspect the brick walls lined with alluring photography. There are black-and-whites keeping company with vivid color shots with various subjects. The lights are dim except for the soft spotlights showcasing the art.
I drop my bags near the wrought iron stairs that lead to a second floor and walk around in awe. The vibe of the space is a tranquil sanctuary and I never want to leave. I’m studying a lush tropical photo of what looks to be a rainforest when I hear a guy call out from the back.
“Be there in a minute.”
I keep on my photo walk and am so lost in it that I’m startled when he speaks again from right behind me.
“May I help you?” he asks in a formal quiet voice, trying not to surprise me but failing. His voice contains a deep timbre that demands attention.
I turn around and find a tall, ruggedly handsome guy who looks like he should be outside on a beach or on some adventure and not in the confines of any building. His pale blue eyes look at me in patience for an answer.
“Willow Carter,” I stutter out as I offer my hand.