Page 2 of Two Weeks
First, she became absolutely sure about what she wanted to do when she was older. The minute she graduated she would move to Manhattan and start classes at New York University. And she would study the only thing that stirred her soul. The one thing she wanted to spend her life doing.
Painting.
It wasn’t that Elise wanted to be an artist when she grew up. Shewasan artist, born that way. She was most alive poised in front of an easel, brush in her hand. Bringing a scene to life, from her heart straight to the canvas.
Elise didn’t see art as a pastime. It was her existence. Her future. Everything that mattered. And the night she figured that out, she had no choice but to tell her mother.
Midway through a dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, her heart missing beats, Elise had pierced the tired silence. “So, Mama... I know what I want to do when I’m out of school.” Her voice sounded happy, upbeat. This moment would be a time of celebration.
Her mother narrowed her weary eyes. She was between shifts cleaning floors at the hospital and working as a 911 operator for the local police department. “You’re a little young.” She sipped at a spoonful of soup. Her eyes looked nervous. “You know... to have all the answers.”
“I thought I knew a long time ago what I wanted to be.” She had watched for her mother’s reaction. “But now I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Her mother’s smile seemed uncertain. “What is it? You wanna be a doctor or a lawyer, baby? A schoolteacher?” She stared at her still full bowl, moving her spoon through it. Anxious. A quiet, defeated laugh came from her. “Please tell me you don’t want to clean hospital rooms.”
“No, Mama.” Elise looked at her mom for a long minute. She shook her head. “I don’t want to clean anything.” Her resolve grew. “I’m an artist. I want to paint.” Fear tried to stop her, but she kept going. “After school, I’m moving to New York to study. Gonna enroll at NYU.” She paused. “I’m good, Mama. I can make a living at it one day.”
Her mother lifted her eyes and looked straight at Elise. “An artist?” The tips of her fingers began to tremble. “Baby.” She shook her head. “You don’t get paid to paint pictures.” She didn’t wait for a response. “You’re smart. You can do anything you want. Be anything.”
“I know. You always told me that.” Her mom’s disappointment ran through Elise’s veins like a bad drug. “Which is why I want to be an artist.”
Her mom got up and paced to the kitchen stove. When she turned and looked at Elise, her eyes filled with tears. “Baby, I can’t afford New York. You know that.” She hesitated. “We’re simple folk. Any college would be a stretch. But NYU?”
“I can get scholarships, Mama.” Panic choked off Elise’s voice. “This is my dream.”
Her mom was quiet for a minute. Then her expression gradually grew hard. “Tell you what, baby. Let’s just settle this right now.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You will not be an artist. Period.”
“Mama!”
“No.” Her lips closed tight together. “You will go to community college and be a teacher. Or a doctor. Some thing respectable.” A final shake of her head, and her mama’s eyes were cold as ice. “But you will not be an artist. Is that understood?”
And in that moment Elise felt something inside her turn to steel. No matter what her mother said, Elise would go to New York University. She would get the training she needed and she’d open her own studio. Somewhere near Manhattan’s action and art scene. She’d wait tables until she could make a living selling her work. Maybe rent a flat in Chelsea, where other artists lived.
Whatever happened next in her life, Elise made herself a promise that day. She wasn’t going to talk to her mother about it. No more. She would go after her dream by herself. From that moment on.
Every day her resolve grew, and with it a distance between her mom and her. Something the two of them had never known before. Elise stopped going to church, and less laughter marked their dinners. Her mother definitely noticed. She would set her fork down beside her plate and look at Elise. Just look at her.
“How was your day?” she would ask. Same question every night.
“Good.” Elise would keep eating.
Images from the past dissolved and Elise stared at a patch of tiny roses on the wall of her new bedroom. She could’ve been nicer to her mama, should’ve tried harder. But her mother had no idea how serious Elise was about moving to New York. She was just a lonely single woman who talked often about how her best years were behind her. Her mama didn’t seem to fathom Elise actually moving to the East Coast. Even still, Elise figured things with her mom would work themselves out eventually.
But then the second thing happened.
Elise stood and walked to the window. The sky was mostly dark now. Nighttime settling in.
“Elise, time for dinner!” Her aunt’s voice carried through the small house. “Big day tomorrow!”
Yes. Elise blew at a wisp of her dark hair. Big day for sure. She was going to get straight A’s here in Bloomington. No friends or guys. Not if she wanted to be serious about NYU. And she’d never been more serious about anything.
Elise turned toward the door. “Be right there.” Then she looked out the window again and lifted her eyes to the sky. Things got worse with her mother after that. When the second thing happened her junior year.
She met Randy Collins.
He was the same age, a linebacker on the football team with a reputation as bad off the field as on it. Tall with tanned skin, a Hollywood face, and brown eyes that challenged everything she’d been raised to believe.
Elise knew who he was, of course, but one Friday night, the two of them wound up at the same party. Randy had a beer in his hand when he walked up to her. “Hey, pretty girl.” He moved so close she could smell his breath. His lips curved into a smile, his words slurred. “Where you been all my life?”
