Page 73 of Lucy Loves Him Not
“Yes, to all the above. But I love the work I do. It’s always felt worth the uprooting. Plus, it kind of helps when you’re so into work to distract from the loneliness.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“It did help. It’s lost some of its power this summer.” He hit the blinker to switch lanes.
“Did you always want to move around a lot? Is that the plan?” I thought about the conversation I had with Gracie. Trying to stick to a plan for your life is like trying to let a book fall open to an exact passage. You might get close, but it won’t ever land right where you intended.
“The plan is doing the work I love and following where it takes me. Maybe that’s Ohio. Or Sweet River. Or Tokyo.” My heart started hammering when he said Tokyo. “I have a general five-year-plan for career advancement, but it’s about following the job.”
“You just let the job lead you wherever?” I tried to sound casual and calm. As if I didn’t have hopes hinged on his replyat all.
He nodded. “That’s what I’ve done, yeah. You probably always have other things to factor in beyond work, right? You factor in your family. Your traditions. I’ve never had any other factors.”
Could I be a factor?Was that a selfish thought? Was it too soon to think like this?
“I’m a kindergarten teacher, Adam. That doesn’t have some crazy upward mobility that might whisk me away to Tokyo,” I said.
“Your art might whisk you away to some places.” He rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve hadone sale, but sure.”
“Come on, you’re a natural artist.” I felt myself halt when he said this. He saw it and cocked his head. “Youarean artist. Even if I didn’t have that painting hanging in my dining room, I’d still call you an artist.”
“I’m a teacher, you know. I have my credentials and my job to prove it. I don’t know how to prove to myself that I am allowed to call myself an artist.”
“Do you make art?”
I nodded, my hair falling in my eyes.
“You’re an artist,” Adam said, as if it was truly that simple.
“I feel like an impostor. I’m just Lucy the teacher from Sweet River who hides her paintings away?—"
“Lucy Rhodes, you are allowed to be a lot of things at once,” Adam interrupted me, his voice passionate. “You can be a small-town teacher and a beautiful artist. You can be bravely storming into my office one minute and infuriatingly terrified to admit you want something the next—like how you want me and you want art. You get to be all the things you choose to be. The only person stopping you—is you.”
Something inside clicked as Adam spoke. Maybe the only person who could decide whether or not I was an artist…was me.
“I hope you remember that, too,” I said, leaning in my seat so I could get a good look at him. “You can be a lot of things, too. You’re more than your work, as much as you love it. You can also be more to the people in Sweet River, to your brother, than you’re used to letting yourself be. You have more to offer than you know, more than maybe people in your past took the time to appreciate or discover.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, his jaw set. “You think?”
“I don’t just think,” I said. Then, a little braver, “I know.” In a scary way that made me think he could be somebody I needed.
It was quiet for a beat. The signs outside the window were suddenly familiar as we sped into Sweet River.For What It’s Worthplayed through the speakers.
“You have Stevie Nicks on this playlist?” I asked excitedly.
“Definitely. She’s classic.”
I started singing along, wiggling my shoulders to the music.
“I take it you’re a fan?” Adam asked through a laugh.
“Who do you think my cat is named after?” I asked incredulously.
Adam tipped his head back. “How’d I miss that? I even met Stevie that night on FaceTime. I just thought it was a cute name.”
“It is a cute name.”
