Page 55 of Redemption
Emma sighed, "The bad news is it's in Washington."
My grip weakened in her hand as her eyes began to water.
"So that means...you’re leaving." I didn't know what else to say.
"It’s about time I moved out of my parents house I guess, and there are no jobs in this town that could ever lead to anything. My parents offered to help with rent and other things until I’m on my feet there." She almost laughed when she continued. "They’re probably just glad Im finally moving out."
I realized my eyes were watering too as she rubbed hers.
I blinked, trying to clear away the tears welling up. "Emma, that's...that's great." My voice quieted at the end, but I managed a weak smile. "Really, it is."
She sniffed and let out a shaky laugh. "I know. I just... Im so sad."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah me too."
We sat there for a moment in silence, hands still clasped together as we both processed her news. The soft morning light seeped through the thin curtains, bathing us in its warm glow and making Emma's blond hair shine. Behind her sadness, I could see how happy she was at the same time. I was happy for her too.
"Promise me something." she said suddenly, her voice low but firm as she turned to look me in the eyes.
"Anything.”
"Promise me that you won't stay stuck here forever," she stated. "That you'll find your way out of this godforsaken town and do something meaningful with your life."
"Do something meaningful?" I repeated incredulously. "Emma, all I've ever done is scramble to survive."
Her grip tightened on my hand. "And that's exactly what you need to stop doing," she said with conviction. "You're an amazing artist, Sophia. You're meant for more than just survival."
"I'd love to believe that," I sighed, looking away from her. "But dreams won't pay the bills."
She shook her head, her golden hair dancing around her face. "Believe it or not, Sophia, some dreams do. I believe in you. I know you can accomplish anything you set your mind to."
Before I could reply, she let go of my hand and reached into her bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Without a word, she thrust it into my hands.
"What's this?" I asked curiously, unfolding the document to reveal a beautifully printed brochure. My eyes scanned over the fancy lettering and glossy images—a prestigious art school offering scholarships for deserving students.
"Emma…" I started but found myself at a loss for words. "This… seems amazing, but..."
I paused, staring at the brochure.
“This school is in New York?”
"So what?" she said. "You're talented enough to get in. All you need to do is apply. They are offering free housing for the first six months. You could get a job there and save up without having to pay rent."
"What if they reject me?" The words were out before I could stop them.
"We won't know until you try," she replied gently, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder before wiping the wetness from her cheek. “But I know they will accept you.”
There was an earnestness in her eyes that made me want to believe her. To believe that life could offer more than endless toil and unrewarded effort. That it was possible for me to live in alignment with what I loved to do. But hope leads to disappointment, and plans often times are just a list of things that never happen.
"I don't know, Emma," I said after a moment's silence.
"Promise me you will apply." she demanded.
"I..." I paused, staring down at the art school's brochure. It was a tempting image. I glanced back up at Emma. She was waiting, her expression full of stubborn hope.
"Alright," I sighed, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll apply."
Emma's face lit up like she had just won an argument, which in a way, she had. "Good." She got up from my bed and stretched.
