Return to Sender by Roberta Blablanski

Author:Roberta Blablanski [Blablanski, Roberta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Drew, 1990

I threw myself into my schoolwork and my art after Wes left, and my focus was paying off. My art teacher, Ms. Santos, was helping me submit scholarship applications to art schools across the country. With her encouragement, I carefully curated a portfolio of my artwork to accompany my college essays. Once she convinced me to stop drawing and painting Wes’ face on everything, and branch out to different subjects, I had a wide range of pieces to choose from.

The loss of Wes left an emptiness in my heart that seemed to grow bigger and wider as the days passed without a word from him. I convinced myself that I would never find someone to replace him, especially not here.

While the possibility of moving far away from my mom made me apprehensive, the thought of branching out somewhere new, and pursuing my own identity as an artist and a gay person without her judgment, excited me. There had to be more accepting places than this town.

“What is this?” A letter addressed to me from The Art Institution of Denton landed on top of my open biology textbook. The mail must have come late today because I always made sure I checked it before my mom got home, to prevent a situation like this from happening.

She and I discussed my going to college, and a full scholarship was the only way that was going to happen. She barely tolerated my interest in art, instead, not so gently pressuring me into pursuing a business major in college. Ms. Santos was understanding and kind enough to let me store most of my creations, including my portfolio, in her classroom to avoid any arguments with my mom. Despite my carefulness, it seemed I slipped up today.

“What. Is. This?” she repeated, each word punctuated by a stab of her finger to the letter. A frowned marred her face.

“A letter?” My smart mouth was going to get me in trouble today, I bet. I wasn’t prepared to fight this particular battle with her today. My plan had been to wait until I received and accepted a full scholarship to a school of my choice. Then she wouldn’t be able to give me hell for my choice in curriculum.

Unceremoniously, she ripped the piece of mail open and began reading. Her frown deepened, reminding me of a recent panel I drew for my Captain Fabulous comic—I still kept up with it for fun—of an angry character whose defining trait was puffs of steam emanating from his ears when provoked.

“They want you to come up for an interview. Next week.” I couldn’t read the tone of her voice, but her expression hadn’t changed.

I was floored. They wanted me to interview? Spots for incoming freshman were limited, and there was stiff competition to get a coveted spot. Ms. Santos persuaded me to apply to the Institution, despite my lack of confidence. Students from all over the world applied. This was amazing news.

“What happened to business school?” The question was aimed at me, full of barbed wires.

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