Chapter 9
I hadn't called David back. His voicemail sat in my phone from the night before, that familiar flat tone where he asked me to cover Mom's appointments like he'd already penciled me in. The red notification dot stayed there all morning while I made coffee in my apartment and stared at the fellowship email on my laptop. The housing link expired December 30th. That was tomorrow.
My apartment walls were thin enough that I could hear my neighbor's TV through the bedroom. I didn't want anyone hearing me ask if I was allowed to defer my own life, so I put on my coat and took my phone outside.
It was gray and raw on the sidewalk in Columbus, the kind of late December cold that made the concrete smell like wet stone. Cars hissed by on High Street. I stood near the brick wall by the side entrance where the wind wasn't as sharp, and I pulled the coordinator's number from the letter.
I'd saved it under Elise Chen, Bennington MFA, three weeks earlier when I'd been too nervous to call. Now I pressed call before I could rehearse what to say.
She picked up on the second ring. "MFA Office, this is Elise."
I swallowed. "Hi, Elise, this is Lauren Hayes. I'm an incoming fellow for the January residency. I had a question about the fellowship timeline?"
"Lauren! Of course," she said, and I could hear her smile. "We were hoping you'd call. How are you?"
The kindness in her voice made my throat tight. I pressed my back against the brick.
"I wanted to ask about deferring," I said. I tried to keep my voice even, like I was asking about store hours. "Is there an option to defer the fellowship for a year? For family reasons?"
There was a small pause, papers shifting. "I can check your file, but Lauren, that fellowship is a one-time offer tied to this cohort. It's full tuition plus stipend and housing, January start only. If you defer, we can't hold the funding. You'd have to reapply next fall and we'd have no guarantee."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me. My hand was cold around the phone.
"And housing," she continued, "we've been holding your single on campus until December thirtieth. That's tomorrow. After that we release it to the waitlist. We really want you here."
I looked down at my boots on the cracked sidewalk. A bus rolled past and sprayed slush.
"I understand," I said. "I just didn't know if it was flexible."
"Can I be honest with you?" Elise said, quieter now.
"Yes."
"I read your sample. The story about the grocery store and the mother in the parking lot? The faculty fought for you. We had two hundred applications for three fellowships. Professor Reyes brought your piece to committee twice. She said your control of silence was the best she'd seen in years."
My breath caught. I hadn't expected anyone to remember the details.
"I've never had anyone fight for my work before," I said. It came out smaller than I meant.
"You earned it," Elise said. "That spot is yours because of the writing, not because we felt sorry for anyone. If you can be here January sixth, we will have a key and a desk waiting."
I closed my eyes for a second. The wind moved through the bare branches over the parking lot.
"Thank you for telling me that," I said.
"Don't thank me. Just let us know by tomorrow midnight, okay? Even an email. Whatever you decide, decide for the work."
We hung up and I stayed against the brick wall. My phone screen went dark and showed my reflection, hair flattened by the wind.
Inside, David's voicemail was still waiting, and Mom's calendar was still empty, and my teaching contract was still unsigned on my kitchen table. But Elise's words were louder than all of it. Faculty fought for her spot. Housing until December thirtieth. January sixth.
May you like
I had thought the deadline was abstract, something I could negotiate around. Now it was a concrete date, a door that would close with or without me. I felt the shift in my chest, not relief, but something steadier, the kind of validation that didn't need anyone at that Christmas table to clap for me.
I slipped my phone into my coat pocket and stood there a minute longer, listening to the traffic, not calling anyone back yet.
