Chapter 15
The laptop had been open on my kitchen table since five. It was 10:47 now and the screen had gone dim twice and I'd tapped the trackpad to wake it. Outside my apartment window, the parking lot lights made orange pools on the wet asphalt. It was December 30th and the heat clicked on and off in the baseboard and I hadn't taken my coat off even though I was inside.
The portal was still logged in. Bennington Low-Residency MFA - Hayes, Lauren - Fellowship Offer - Status: Pending Response. Deadline: December 31, 11:59 PM EST. Two buttons at the bottom, side by side. Decline Offer. Accept Fellowship.
I'd read the letter that was already in my bag three more times that evening. The white paper was soft at the corners now from how I'd held it. For three weeks I'd clutched it to my chest at that table, folded it into my purse, pressed it flat on my desk like if I let go it would disappear.
My phone buzzed. Jenna: you good? You got like an hour if you're doing that midnight thing technically but don't wait.
I typed back: I'm going to click it now.
She sent back: I'm here. Call after.
I pulled my chair in. My hands were cold. I moved the cursor over Accept Fellowship. The arrow hovered. I could hear the refrigerator hum and a car alarm chirp once in the lot and my own breathing.
I clicked.
The screen went white for a second and I thought I'd lost the connection, and then a new page loaded. A green check mark. Congratulations, Lauren! Your fellowship acceptance has been recorded. Housing Assignment: Commons Hall, Room 214. Residency Begins: January 10. Please check your email for next steps.
January 10. Ten days.
I stared at the dates until they blurred. Then I laughed, a short sound that caught in my throat, and I put both hands flat on the table to steady them.
The frame had been leaning against my bedroom wall since that afternoon. I'd bought it at Target on Morse Road for $19.99, simple black wood, glass that I'd wiped clean with my sleeve. I went and got it and came back to the table.
I slid the letter out of its envelope. The printer ink was a little faded where my thumb had rested at Christmas. Dear Ms. Hayes, We are delighted to offer you... I laid it on the table and centered it on the backing, fitted the glass over it, and pressed the little metal tabs down one by one. My hands stopped shaking once they had something to do.
There was a nail already in the wall above my desk from the previous tenant. I hung the frame there. I stepped back. The white paper glowed against the black border. I didn't have to hold it anymore. It stayed on its own.
That was when I felt my eyes get hot and I let them. I didn't wipe at them right away.
I took a photo of the screen with the green check mark, and then a photo of the framed letter on the wall. I opened the family group chat. The last messages in it were from New Year's Eve. Dad had sent a photo of the quiche, Mom had sent a heart.
I typed: I accepted my fellowship tonight. I start January 10 in Vermont. Thank you for listening the other day. Here's my confirmation and my letter hung up in my apartment.
I hit send before I could edit it. I set the phone down face up and waited.
The dots appeared first under David's name. I watched him type and stop and type again.
David: Lauren wow CONGRATULATIONS!!! I mean it. I'm so proud of you. We will miss you like crazy but you earned this. Want me to help drive stuff up? I have the truck that week.
A second later, another bubble.
Mom: Oh honey my girl I love you so much I'm crying. Can I come visit residency? I want to see where you'll write!!! We love you.
Dad had liked the message. That was his way.
I read David's text twice. Offer to help move. Not a request to cover an appointment. I felt something loosen between my shoulders that I hadn't realized was still tight.
I called Jenna. She picked up on the first ring.
"Did you do it?" she said.
"I did," I said. "It says Commons Hall, Room 214."
"You're going," she said.
"I'm going."
She was quiet for a second. "How does it feel?"
I looked around my apartment. The frame on the wall. The laptop still glowing with the confirmation. The coat still over the back of my chair. The Christmas ham, the chandelier, that whole table felt far away now, like a room I'd walked out of and closed the door on gently.
"It feels quiet," I said. "In a good way. Like I can breathe."
"Stay on the phone for a minute?" she asked.
May you like
"Yeah," I said. "Just stay."
We didn't talk much after that. I sat at my kitchen table with my feet tucked up on the chair and listened to the heat click on again. The letter hung straight and still on the wall where I'd put it. I knew leaving would be hard, that January would be cold and strange and lonely in the best way. But I had chosen it. I had clicked the button myself before midnight and no one could un-choose it for me.
