Page 21 of New Growth
The streets outside the academy were bustling with life, but inside, it was calm in a way that felt both comforting and isolating. I stood in the lobby, staring at the polished marble floors beneath my shoes. Everything was pristine, with clean white walls, soft lighting, and sleek, minimalist architecture.
And me? Well, I was a mess.
I’ve been in Thailand for a week now, and every single day, I wrestled with loneliness. Sure, I’d been keeping myself busy—sorting out my documents, settling into the new routine and time zone, and familiarizing myself with the program—but there were still moments, usually before the sun began to set and the day’s noise quieted when it felt like I was being consumed by silence. Now, I dreaded silence.
I missed home. I missed my old apartment, even the cold, echoing silence of it. At least it was familiar. But worst of all, I missed my Jonathan and Ryan. It was hard enough processing what they’d done to me, but being thousands of miles away from even the possibility of seeing them again was mournful.
Grief had a sense of humor. Some days, I was at ease with the knowledge that I’d never see them again, and the relationship was finished. But other days, the very thought of their names was enough to send me under the covers in a sobbing mess. I had been mourning the dead and living simultaneously. Maybe I moved too fast in my decision to come here. In hindsight, I did get my acceptance letter, changed my number, packed up my things, and moved across the world in less than a month. I’ve barely had time to process everything.
But I couldn’t think that way. I chose this, I reminded myself. That should have meant something.Right?
“Come on, Elliot. Focus,” I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath.
The first day of class was starting in just a few minutes, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted. I walked down the corridor, glancing at the signs overhead indicating the classrooms, and eventually found my way to the one labeled‘Beginner Course for Nail Art and Design’.
The closed door still allowed a soft murmur of voices to come from inside. I took a deep breath and pushed it open. Inside, the large windows let in streams of natural light, forcing my eyes to blink rapidly as they adjusted. Looking around, I noticed several workstations were set up with professional nail supplies and tiny sculptures of nail designs, already waiting for the students. At the front of the room, a tiny woman in sensible heels sat at a desk, scrolling through a tablet. I assumed that was the instructor.
I hesitated at the door, unsure if I should just slip in quietly and take a seat at one of the empty stations or approach the instructor. Before I could make up my mind, a heavily accented voice called out to me.
“Are you Elliot?”
I turned toward the direction of the voice and saw a tall, full-figured woman with bright, red-dyed hair and a broad smile gesturing for me to come over. She was sitting at one of the workstations, already getting her supplies ready.
She was stunning. The red hair perfectly complemented her dark skin, and her smile stood out against them both.
I needed to be her friend, badly.
I wanted to introduce myself in a way that didn’t make me seem like a loser who had been holed up in her apartment for the past month, but the words didn’t come. Instead, I stood there like a deer in headlights before nodding.
“I figured!” she said, beckoning me to come in. I stepped into the room and made my way to the workstation nearest to her. Within two seconds, she had made her way over to introduce herself.
“Hi! I’m Esther. Since you’re new, Nadiya assigned me to assist you.”
“Nadiya?” I asked in a low voice.
“The instructor,” she clarified, nodding to the woman sitting at the front. “You’re gonna love it here. Nail design is severely time-consuming but also life-changing.”
“Good to know,” I smiled awkwardly, then tried to make conversation. “How long have you been doing it?”
“Three months. Nadiya says I should move on to the next course because she has already taught me everything.”
“Really?” My eyebrows rose in shock. “And you’re still here? Why?”
She shrugged. “I feel like there is still more to learn. Plus, I love to meet new people.”
Nadiya, with a stern expression but a kind voice, called the class to attention. “Alright, everyone, take your seats. I’m about to begin.”
I could feel my nerves kick in, but Esther flashed me a quick grin, and I felt secure again.
When the lesson started, Nadiya walked around the room, showing us the basics of nail care and the finer points of acrylic application. We worked on printed paper for practice, and I tried to focus on my application, but I kept getting hung up on every little imperfection.
Esther was quick at her work, her hands moving with the kind of practiced ease that came from months of experience. I tried to mimic her, focusing on the precision of each stroke, but my wrists kept drifting. It was like my hands were moving mechanically, not with any true confidence.
Esther said it would get better. Maybe it would. Maybe I could get through it if I just kept my head down and worked through the discomfort. But deep inside, there was still that quiet ache. The loneliness in the pit of my stomach hadn’t disappeared with the new surroundings, and the dizzying scent of acrylic was not helping.
Esther glanced up from her work, sensing my unease.
“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle but curious. “You okay? You got all quiet.”
