From Bully To Beloved

SERA

Friday

Iwake up to the sun searing my eyeballs through my tiny window. Lying on the couch, I stare at the cracked ceiling and listen to the cars going by outside. My neighbor is playing music so loudly I can hear the low bass through the wall.

No more quiet apartment.

No Cal. No smell of him. No strong arms wrapped around my waist. I knew it was going to be a tough adjustment, a challenging first few days, I just didn’t realize how much I’d miss him. I’ve hardly slept all week.

It’s for the best, I tell myself. It’s the same mantra I’ve been trying to hammer into my mind ever since I moved out. You need to work through all the new changes before throwing another variable into the mix.

I heave myself up into a sitting position, looking around. I try a smile. While everything still feels weird, there is the sense of calm serenity that comes with being in your own space. It’s familiar, warm, safe-all the things you want your home to be. That being said, there is excitement at the realization that I can get something bigger, a better place to suit my growing needs.

I have to think positively. I can’t dwell on the “maybes” and “what-ifs.” Coltonand I may not be together right now, and yes, it hurts, but it will get better.

Besides, it’s not like he’s completely out of my life.

Right?

I grab my phone from the coffee table to check my messages. None are from Cal.

He sent me a “I miss you” voice message on Monday sometime close to midnight and a “Thinking about you” text midday on Wednesday. I was both excited and sad when I saw the messages. I didn’t respond, even though I really, reallywanted to. I don’t want to give him false hope.

My heart drops when I note the time. Holy shit! My meeting with Mr. Amoria! It’s almost a quarter to nine. I’m late!

Bolting from the couch, I sprint around my room trying to find something to wear. The clothes in my closet had been packed away to make room for my tenant’s stuff, and I still haven’t bothered to unpack all of them. I start throwing clothes left and right, trying to find the right thing to wear.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Finally, I throw on my pretty blue flowery skirt that Kelly gave me for my birthday and a white short-sleeved blouse. A pair of sandals complete the look, and I grab my bag while running out the door. I return to quickly grab my laptop off my bed, duh. Luckily, I had it loaded and ready to go before I fell asleep last night (mostly because I was still obsessively tweaking files).

Storming to the subway a street down, I feel both excited and anxious.

* * *

Inside the cafe, it’s busy, and when I walk in, my nerves kick up. It’s 9:22 a. m. Damn. It hits me that I have no idea what this guy looks like. It turns out I don’t need to, because I notice a smartly dressed man around my age sitting at a table in the corner. He’s doing something on his phone but looks up when I enter.

His face breaks into a smile and he waves me over. “Sera?”

Here goes nothing.

I return his smile and approach with my hand outstretched. “Mr. Amoria? It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry for being late.”

He motions for me to join him, and I do. “No worries, I just arrived myself. Can I get you anything?” he asks, sitting up and adjusting his suit jacket. “On me.”

My stomach is a wreck. “No thank you, I’m good. I do want to start by saying thank you for asking me to meet with you. To tell you the truth, it’s been some time since I’ve done an art show.”

“I’m aware,” he says, inclining his head. “After Kelly mentioned your name, I did a little digging.”

My heart sinks. “Oh?”

“Nothing crazy, just searched for samples of your work and your ArtGal. I wanted to know what experience you have. You did an art show about three years ago, correct? Was that your one and only?”

“Yes, yes, it was.”

“I was impressed that it was covered inArt Dream Monthly, considering it was your first show. First-time artists aren’t usually featured. Although, well…that review from Professor Ramstraat was a…let’s say, interesting read.”

My hope deflates. I try not to appear defeated when he mentionsthatman. No. I’m not going to let him ruin this for me. Chin up, Sera. You got this. “Well, as you said, it was my first show. I believe I’ve grown from there. I’ve always had an eagerness to learn all about art and drawing, and I’ve been drawn to the study of human anatomy. It has always fascinated me, now more than ever. Being able to capture the human body fills my heart with joy, and my soul too.”

Mr. Amoria nods, then puts his hand up, and I feel like I’ve talked too much. “Please, I don’t come into this with any preconceived notions. But I will be frank with you.”

“I’d prefer if you were.”

“Good. I was on the fence at first. I believe Kelly’s a sweet girl, but I’m not a fan of people trying to use me as connections for their friends. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because I knew it was coming from the heart. To tell you the truth, the few pieces she showed me didn’t speak to me. It wasn’t until I started looking into you a little more that I thought about taking this meeting.”

“I’m glad you did,” I tell him, my determination building. I reach into my bag and pull out my laptop. “I’ve added many new pieces to my portfolio that I think you’ll appreciate.”

He doesn’t take the device from me at first. “Before we continue, I want it to be absolutely clear that I cannot guarantee anything without careful consideration.”

His voice has a sternness to it that takes me a little off guard. It occurs to me that someone in his position must get a ton of unsolicited requests to meet with him. It makes me even more determined to prove myself.

“Of course. I’m not naive, Mr. Amoria. I’m ready to prove to you that I have what it takes to do another show. But if either of us believes this wouldn’t be a good idea, a good fit, then there will be no hard feelings.”

His smile returns, and he nods in acknowledgment. “Fair enough.”

I flip my laptop open and hand it to Mr. Amoria. He asks a few questions as he goes, but mostly we sit in silence as he flips through the drawings one by one. My hands are clasped tightly on my lap. I try to read his facial expressions, but he has a damn good poker face, and I get nothing. All I can do is sit there and wait.

Oh, boy, this nausea is bad.