Page 40 of Love Rewritten

“I want to thank Dr. Kraus for encouraging me to submit my work to the LAO. Without his support, I likely would have kept it to myself. As he said, I’m an undergrad studying literature. I truly don’t know what I’ll do with my degree, but I am enjoying learning new things at such an age as mine.” She laughs, as does the crowd, before continuing. “My work is a short story in the horror category with themes of death.” Hmm. She and I might get along. “Thank you for considering me as a nominee today.” She steps back to us before it’s my turn.

Dr. Kraus gestures for me to take my place at the microphone and I have to force my feet forward. “Uh, h-hi. I’m Abigail Cooper.” I find Dallas again and focus on him, so I don’t have to stare at the faces of everyone else. He nods as if saying, “You got this,” again. I take a deep breath before continuing. “I’m an undergrad studying English. I’m not sure what I’ll do with my degree yet, either, but I’m thankful to be here. My work is a short story about,” I hesitate. I hadn’t thought about how to describe it. “Um, it’s about love and loss. Thank you.” I cut my brief speech even shorter than I had planned, but I can’t get the words to come out. They’re stuck in my throat, just below the thick knot. So, I step back to my place and wait impatiently until someone else starts speaking so that all eyes drift away from mine.

Thankfully, Dr. Jones returns to the front to continue. “Thank you all for the lovely introductions. I would like to start the awards by saying that every student standing on this stage is extremely talented in their own way. The submissions are voted on anonymously by the entire LAO organization besides the five of us board members. The vote this year was so close we double-checked three times.” The board members all chuckle and nod along to her admission. “Now let's start with the awards, shall we?”

The crowd cheers and claps as the list of placements is handed to her. She smiles and waits for the crowd to die down. She unfolds the piece of paper and takes a deep breath. So do I. As an undergrad, I’ll be happy if I make it past last place.

“In tenth place, Rory Dylan.”

My heart leaps with the realization that I didn’t come last. Everyone cheers and claps as he takes his plaque and moves to the side to take a picture with the board members. This repeats until only four of us are left. Sandy got fifth place and took her spot at the side of the stage with the others to keep watching. I don’t know how I’ve managed to make it this far. My hands are clasped tightly at my chest as I wait for her to announce the next person.

“In fourth place,” she starts. The room is silent. I hold my breath as if breathing might knock me down where I stand. “Candice Peters.”

What? I made it into the top three? How? There are only three undergrads out of the ten of us. How have I, of all the nominees, managed to make it this far? I haven’t dared look at Dallas this whole time, afraid that if I do, I’ll break my resolve in front of the crowd. But I do this time. His grin is wide as he makes the realization, too. Candice Peters smiles and takes her plaque like everyone else and then there are only three of us. Me, Danny, who wrote an entire book, and Madison, who wrote the song.

Dr. Jones drags this out even longer when she says, “Can we get another applause for the seven I have called? They truly are wonderful students, and the LAO is excited to have the new candidates joining us.” Everyone claps. “And can we get a round of applause for the three remaining students?” More clapping. My stomach churns as I wait for her to continue.

Finally, she does. “Without further ado, in third place, we have Madison Grady.”

I think I might throw up. There’s no way I’m in the top two. My legs threaten to give out from under me, but I lock my knees to hold myself upright. I keep my hands fisted into the sides of my dress to keep myself from fidgeting and drawing too much attention.

“The final two.” I force a smile. “Abigail, Danny, will you please join me on either side?”

Somehow, my feet carry me forward until I’m standing on her right, Danny on her left. He extends a hand to me, and I shake it, hoping he can’t feel how much I’m already quaking in my own skin.

“I want you two to know that no matter who wins, you are both exceptional students.” She nods with a sweet smile. “In second place,” she pauses. I find Dallas’s eyes and hold them. “Abigail Cooper.”

All the air I had been holding steady washes out of my lungs in one quick burst. Danny smiles wide but still offers his hand to shake again. At least he’s got humility through this. Second place is still much further than I ever expected to get.

My smile isn’t forced this time as I take the plaque and move to the side for the picture. Dr. Kraus offers his arms for a hug, and I happily oblige before shaking the hands of the rest of the board members.

Danny is announced as the first-place winner for this year's LAO awards and he gets a well-deserved standing ovation. He joins us at the side of the stage, and a group picture is taken before Dr. Jones finishes with her closing words for the night.

“Thank you to all our participants this year. We are grateful to have such talent among us. If I could have the top three placements stay, everyone else can make their way back to their tables.”

Dr. Kraus hands me a small packet. My short story. Fuck. I almost forgot about this part. I scan the pages and ask, “What am I supposed to read? I haven’t chosen a section to read yet.”

“Don’t worry. I circled my favorite spot. Page three.”

I flip to the third page, and sure enough, a section is circled in red pen. I look up and he winks at me like he knows it’ll be a hit. It’s a good spot, one of the paragraphs I spent the most time on. I guess it paid off if that’s what he was most drawn to. “Okay,” I say.

Dr. Jones holds out an arm toward the side of the stage. “The top three finalists will now perform a part of their work. First up is Madison.”

I hadn’t noticed she’d been given an acoustic guitar, the strap embroidered with bright yellow sunflowers. She takes her place at center stage and sits on a stool. She checks her tuning before strumming a beautiful low chord. The song is gorgeous, as is her voice. I could see her going far. She should play at Landry’s. People would love her. I make a mental note to suggest the idea to Dallas when she finishes. As expected, the crowd stands and claps furiously, and whistles and shouts sound from somewhere near the back likely from the people she invited.

Then it’s my turn. I move to the microphone and glance at Dr. Kraus, who gives me a gentle nod. I shift my eyes to Dallas, who simply smiles and looks far more relaxed than I feel.

Take a deep breath. Reading this isn’t going to change anything that’s happened tonight.

I focus on the paper in my hands, gripping it a little too tightly, but it feels like the only thing holding me steady. And then I begin reading.

“Fury. It’s not some wrath escapable simply by walking. It’s mental. It’s subconscious. It holds you hostage when you least expect it. Or maybe you do. But I can’t stand in it any longer. These waters are murky. They’re thick, like the kind of sludge that drifts past after a heavy storm. My feet remain glued to the same spot they’ve been in for far too long. And as I pull one foot out from the depths, something shudders beneath me.

“And then something different shudders ahead of me, stronger, a convalescence so powerful I think might finally breach the shell of the person I’ve become. It ascends, from where I’m not sure, but it holds out its hand. There is no demand that I take it. Only an offer. But I can feel something deeper in the palm of that hand. It’s pleading, almost the same as mine has been, but where mine has been an anxious burning beg, this one is softer, kinder.

“So, I take the hand, and for the first time, both feet are free, both hovering above the depths of that dark, raging water, that once inescapable fury.”

I look up and see all eyes on me, everyone’s breaths held as firmly in place as mine. I force a small smile and bow my head to signify the end of my reading. I’ve never read my work for anyone other than classmates during presentations or Dr. Kraus in his office. But this feels so much more real. So surreal. And I find that I don’t hate it. Reading this was almost as freeing as what I wrote. Weightless. I feel myself getting choked up, so I say a quick “Thank you” into the microphone and head to the side of the stage where everyone else stands.

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