My Life Designed
First chapter of my novel! Please leave your feedback.
Christmas - Age 15
"Listen Kiddo. I'm leaving after graduation." My older brother Len told me in sibling confidence as we sat up talking after our parents retired for the evening to enjoy their wine induced holiday slumbers.
I was too shocked to speak. He was planning to leave me behind?! Being two years older, of course he would graduate before me, but leave town without me? It was unfathomable.
"I'm going to graphic design school in Toronto. I won't have any trouble getting a job in the city when I'm done. I think it'll make mom and dad really proud." His voice was slightly pleading as though he was asking for my blessing. Len was a very talented artist and I knew he would never be able to do what he loved for a living if he stayed in the wasteland of a town that we called home.
It was good that his plan included a little something for mom and dad too, since he had spent all of his previous years driving them absolutely mad. Len had been a typical rambunctious boy and to my mother's chagrin, never grew out of it. But that Christmas evening he was focused, and he was thinking about his future.
"But what about me?" I asked. I couldn't help myself. I wanted the best for Len but I couldn't imagine life without him there to protect me. That's what big brothers are for.
Len chuckled knowingly, "You'll come too Kiddo - once you graduate. You have to go where the opportunities are and that's in the city. Nobody here even knows what an Interior Designer is. They've all got their heads screwed on backwards."
I was relieved - and then really excited about his plan for us. It was going to be great! We were going to take the city by storm. The artistic Monroe siblings. The clan from the north. Len would work for some incredible magazine and I'd be the next top designer - maybe I'd even end up on City TV! Look out world!
We were into the first week of spring when Len was unexpectedly robbed of his plans for future; we were all robbed of them actually. Sun filtered in through the living room windows in wide ethereal beams as though God himself were watching the events unfold. Jerry, one of my father's best friends and fellow police officer, approached the door and rang the bell. My father answered and quickly stepped outside onto the patio stones with him. I watched from behind the door where I could see them both through the small beveled glass window. I watched as my father suddenly doubled over grabbing onto his knees to steady himself as though Jerry had punched him in the stomach. My heart sank.
My father's voice was somber and steady when he came back inside. "Len's gone. A drunk driver ran him and Ben off the road last night." I drew in an disbelieving breath. "Ben's in the hospital, but Len didn't make it.... I'm so sorry baby." He said hanging his head choking back his tears trying to be strong for me.
Without responding, I helplessly ran upstairs to Len's bedroom - I heard my mother wail in pain behind me and I wanted to be with her but I stayed there in Len's bed instead. I didn't leave that spot until I was forced to drag my limp, lifeless, and soulless body to attend the funeral services. Time drifted by in a fog, days turned into nights without me giving them much notice. It was my mother's gentle prodding in between her thoughts of tears that eventually drove me out of the house and back to school. Once there, Ben never left my side. Which was a blessing and a curse since he only provided me with a constant reminder of Len. But he had lost his best friend in the world and it somehow made him feel better to be near me.
I walked the halls of our school like a zombie for months and Kelly felt it was her duty as my best friend to remind me, very diplomatically, that I take a shower or at least apply some mascara once in a while. I would sometimes think that I saw Len ahead of me in the hall or ducking into a classroom. But I would always quickly realize, with what felt like a blow to the stomach, that it couldn't be him because he was no longer there at the school or anywhere that I would be able to talk to him or laugh with him or confide in him again.
I managed to make it through my last two years of high school with the help of Ben and Kelly and the rest of our friends. And although I never felt quite whole, I managed to carry on and eventually behave like a normal teenager again. I even smiled on occasion. When I finally donned my graduation cap and gown, I subsequently conceded fully to the nagging voice in my head telling me to hit the road and make mom and dad proud. It was Len's voice. Somehow I knew that although he was no longer there to lead the way, he was still with me. It's time to move on Kiddo. With my mother's strength, my father's good sense, and Len's memory packed in my suitcase, I moved to Toronto where I had been accepted into the prestigious Institute of Design.
4 Years Later
Sitting in class watching the other presentations, I was simply a ball of nerves waiting for my turn. I was scheduled to be the last presenter, at the end of the last class, on my last day of school. I was horrified. Public speaking was not my forte. Having all eyes on me generated an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that resonated in the back of my throat.
Carla, the girl ahead of me, was good. Her project was the lobby of a new commercial building downtown. It was sleek and modern. The floors were marble and elaborately detailed. The couches were soft brown leather, tables stylishly low to the floor, and the chandelier was to die for. It was made up of hundreds of emerald cut glass pieces that took the shape of a seahorse! The walls were covered in light green textured wallpaper and the artwork was modern abstract - somewhat boring, truth be told. The colors all worked together and most of the materials made sense. The security/reception desk was in the middle of the space with elevators off a short distance to either side. The lobby was lovely at first glance, but I could easily pick out a handful of things that were wrong or missing from the overall project design.
Carla was tall and unreasonably thin, with sharp, but attractive features. An olive complexion, green eyes, and long-layered brown hair gave her an exotic look. She had a tattoo on her left arm, not of a butterfly or a flower, but of a skull and cross bones. Like most of the other girls in the class, she resembled what my mother would call 'death warmed over'. Her clothes were skin-tight and typically black. Her makeup was of the heroin chic variety and her personality - venomous.
There was no obvious theme to the Lobby that I could identify in Carla's presentation. It was just a mish-most of modern and expensive materials. Although the chandelier was lovely, what was the point? It had nothing to do with the location or the occupants. It would have been impressive if it had, but it didn't and therefore was pointless. The elaborate flooring also took away from the chandelier by drawing the eye down instead of up. We had spent plenty of time in the last four years of school going over focal points and environmental psychology. Had she been too busy re-applying her eyeliner to listen in once in while?
Carla went sauntering back to her seat flashing me a challenging smile. Out of habit, not spite, I smiled back at her and then instantly regretted it. Damn my small town manners! Why couldn't I just very coolly have smiled back and perhaps raised one eyebrow as if to say . . . "Nice Lobby, Corpse Bride, now let me show you what a real Design Piece should look like?"
It was my turn to present. My hopes and dreams rested on this final project. The top student at the end of the program had a chance to be offered a position as an apprentice at Professor McNally's infamous studio in the Art and Design district. I took a deep breath, and descended from the stadium style stairs to the front of the class. In the pit below, I began quickly mounting my design boards onto the wall. With each board that went up, I could hear whispering from the students at my back. There were five boards in all and with the last one in place I looked down at my shoes to gain my composure. They were old and scuffed up, but every dime I had was going into tuition and materials for school and not into my wardrobe. My suit still looked great though; it was a black slim fitting cotton and wool blend in with a skinny faux alligator belt. It was the only suit I owned and it had been worn only once before to Len's funeral.
"Deep breath." I told myself. As the room fell silent I turned around slowly to face my peers.
They were all uniformly leaning forward in their seats, some with smirks on their faces and others just looking confused. I turned back to look at the presentation boards and my heart stopped. They were all upside down! I felt my face flush red and instantaneously began to sweat from every pore in my body.
I corrected the tiny boards as quickly as I could manage. Life is full of moments. That unpleasant moment had passed and it was time to move on. Once everyone stopped giggling, I addressed my audience again. "As you can see this is a design layout for a 4,500 ft beach house. It is located in Malibu, California and is a currently existing structure. The owners have asked that I update it to make it a space that they can entertain in all year round as well as invite guests to stay and live comfortably for weeks at a time. The owners and their group of friends are in the music industry and enjoy fine dining and elegant affairs. They take their health very seriously and enjoy exercising and eating well; they have a permanent chef. I collaborated with the chef to come up with a very modern kitchen and incorporated his ideas into the open concept of the main floor living space. The kitchen also serves as a service pickup area for the wait staff during parties."
Every aspect of the house had been carefully thought out, right down to my not yet trademarked focal wall, consisting of three large sunflowers. In this instance I chose to place them above the fireplace which had a solid wood mantle that sat very low and wide. The flowers, so bold and elegant in serene sepia tones, managed to bring all the elements of the house together.
It was my mother who had inspired my sunflower motifs. On a visit home, she took me into the front yard to show me that she planted sunflowers, quite where they didn't belong, in her bare and un-landscaped yard against the front of the house. They stood tall and certainly stood out against Mom's last project, which was to paint the entire house blue. The flowers captured my heart that day as my mother stood beaming at her masterpiece. I was amazed at the audacity and inspiring beauty of the sunflowers and my mother alike.
Wrapping up my presentation, I looked up at my audience. Some of my peers looked a bit frightened while others were looking on with pen and paper in hand taking notes, hopefully not stealing my ideas again. In the front row, Professor McNally was beaming. I concluded the presentation by letting everyone know that the key to being a good designer is being a good listener and thanking them for their time.
Good job, Kiddo. I allowed myself to imagine Len's voice in my head over the years encouraging me to push forward. Sometimes I wondered weather it was healthy for me or not.
"I would like to speak to you after class." Professor McNally whispered as we shook hands and traded places in the 'pit'.
Madge McNally was from the Caribbean but lived in England most of her adult life. She had only a faint accent that would lead you to believe that she wasn't born and raised in Canada. She was in her early forties and always wore her hair down in big loose curls. Her wardrobe consisted of leather shoes in an array of colors and her ever present designer jeans and suit jackets. Slender and tall, the professor's chin was set confidently and permanently in an upward position, something I tried to emulate.
Waiting for the room to clear, I was spastically nervous. Some of the girls stopped to say how they liked my project, and others like Carla, just snorted in disgust and walked quickly by.
I had only one friend in class. Her name was Jade. She was literally down to earth, always talking "green" and natural materials. Jade had some truly fabulous ideas for the decorating and design industry that would also benefit the environment and would last almost forever. I vowed to work with her one day on absolutely anything that I could. She was brilliant. It seemed that I missed her leaving the classroom however and didn't get to say good-bye.
I couldn't decide whether Madge just wanted to have a chat and say goodbye and good luck in your future endeavors, or if I were about to be rewarded for all my hard work over the last four years with the internship at her design firm. She could have no idea just how much the internship would mean to me.
"Ms. Monroe. Are you lost inside your head again?" asked Professor McNally in a warm voice when she returned to the room. She had been in the hall saying goodbye to all of her students and wishing them well.
Snapping back to life I forced a nervous smile, "I'm here."
"Good. Excellent presentation today, as usual my Dear," the Professor said, which set the tone for our conversation. She sat next to me and gave me a little side squeeze around the shoulders. She turned in her chair so we could face one another.
"Thanks Madge.'' I freely called her by her first name when there were no other students around. "I thought I was going to die when I put the boards up that way."
"You recovered well. Clients appreciate it when you don't have a complete meltdown under pressure."
"Clients," I sighed. "Don't remind me that I have to go and live in the real world now that school's over and find clients of my own to pay off my tuition."
"Well my Dear, that's why I wanted to talk to you. You've done a fabulous job servicing the clients that I've had you borrow for your projects. Far better than anyone else in your class - in all my years teaching actually. I'd like you to come and work for me, Eve."
"You're giving me the apprenticeship?" I exclaimed the question while a feeling of relief washed over me. I'd worked so hard and would be crushed to see it go to somebody else; although I had prepared myself to be a graceful loser if that where the case.
"No. I'd like you to come and work for me and take over some clients of mine. I'm giving the apprenticeship to Carla."
It took a minute for her words to sink in.
"You're offering me a job?" I couldn't stop my voice from becoming high pitched with the notion of having a job right out of school. It was almost unheard of. Then something else sunk in.
"And you're offering Carla the apprenticeship position? So what does that make me?" Besides miserable, I thought.
"You'll be what you are. A designer."
"You're kidding me? This is too much, you're messing with me," I accused.
"I can tell you for certain, that I am not messing with you. You are the best designer that has come through my class in years. You're a very personable young lady and my clients love you. So where does that leave me? If I take you on as an apprentice, you will lose credibility with them, so I guess I have to hire you instead. So, do you want the job or do you want to be a free agent?"
Without hesitation I replied, "I want the job!" I could no longer contain my excitement and almost jumped into Madge's lap hugging her neck. Madge just laughed. "Now, as you know, it's my partner that runs the studio full-time. You have an appointment to meet with her in two weeks. Here." She handed me a business card.
"9:00 A.M. sharp at the studio. Enjoy your time off because it's a fast paced business with deadlines and demanding clients. I suggest you pay a visit to your mom and dad because you won't be seeing them for a while."
"I will Madge. Thank you." My voice cracked. I was completely overwhelmed by that point.
"Don't let me down, I've vouched for you with Miki and she's seen your work. I need you to live up to your reputation. Now get out of here and go celebrate your graduation." She said.
"Thank you again. I won't let you down." I spun out of the classroom and out the front door of the school skipping three steps at a time down the stairs to the walkway. I stopped thereto recap what had just transpired. First, I wasn't even sure if I would be getting the apprenticeship or not, and then suddenly I had a full-fledged job! Thinking of the apprenticeship and knowing it had gone to Carla was like being handed a bouquet of roses and a slap in the face. That meant that we would be working in the same studio and Carla would be apprentice to Miki, Madge's business partner and acting president of the company.
I turned around to take in the Design Academy one last time. The building was done by Jason Nichols, a local architect, who with an enormous amount of glass and metal, bent and curved a beautiful structure to resemble a silhouette of Marilyn Monroe lying on her side. Being molded into an Interior Designer at that school had been the best experience of my life thus far. Solemnly I reminded myself that if it weren't for the insurance money I received after Len's death, I never would have been able to afford to go there in the first place.
"Are you OK?" asked Jade. She was standing right in front of me and I hadn't noticed her. "Eve?"
I gave my head a nod. "Yeah, I'm alright." I said. "Hey congratulations. We're all done. You're presentation was fabulous!" I really meant it. Jade's final project was an eco friendly spa in Kensington Market. A part of the city where people sold second hand and redesigned clothes; a vegan restaurant on every corner.
"Thanks. Yours was too. Once you turned it the right way," she smiled kindly. Jade's light brown skin sparkled under the sun. She had her dreadlocked hair tied back in a thick pony tail with a long strip of red fabric. I asked her once how she got her hair into dread locks. Apparently she just stopped washing it. After it started clumping up, she added beeswax to it and voila! Gross. No wonder they're called "dread" locks, I had told her.
"So what are you up to now? Some of the girls are going to The Spot to celebrate." The Spot was a trendy bar just down the street from the Academy where students from all walks of life drank and comingled.
I declined politely, "I think I'm just going to go home, but thanks." Jade didn't seem surprised by my answer. I was a bit of an outcast and that hadn't suddenly changed because school was finished.
"I just wanted to let you know," Jade said. "The rumor is that you've been offered a job at Signare and Carla's been given the apprenticeship." News travels fast, I thought to myself. "Carla's furious and the other girls are on her side. I guess it's hard for them to believe that they suck as much as they do and that you deserve the job, which you do. I'm happy for you, but watch your back if you're going to be working around Carla. She's a snake. I've gotta run but keep in touch OK?" Jade turned and jogged back toward the school.
The whole exchange made me feel a little more positive that it was going to be hell working with Carla around. I had been really looking forward to never seeing her again after school was finished.
I stood looking at my precious school. The institution which had molded me into a serious young designer. The place I no longer needed to be. It was the middle of the day and so I jumped on the streetcar at Spadina headed for Chinatown and my favorite little fabric shop. But it was no ordinary fabric shop. It was my little piece of heaven in a foreign world which carried only the most beautify array of silks in an endless rainbow of colors. The owner, a little Chinese woman perhaps in her 60s, didn't speak English and I certainly did not speak Chinese, but we both spoke the language of fabric and therefore got along superbly. I would often bring in a project piece and we would work on it together, coordinating patterns and textures and hues. Never needing more than just a sample, the owner, who I referred to as Mama Silk, rarely charged me more than a dollar for an armful of her exquisite fabrics. I found myself wondering if that was the only English, Mama Silk knew and that was why she only ever charged "one dolla". Mama Silk always delighted in showing me the new stock shipped in directly from her homeland. At the end of every visit she would always give my hand a soft squeeze and what could only be perceived as an affectionate smile over the counter.
Throughout school, my classmates were always baffled by the quality of my samples. As too was Professor McNally, who couldn't help but caress the fabrics herself, when I presented her with various projects at different stages for her assistance and advice. I never told a soul about Mama Silk's location. It was selfish, but I knew my secret was critical, as Mama Silk would play a very important role in my career one day. I promised that when I became a designer I would purchase fabric from no one else to repay her for her kindness.
"I'm going to be a famous designer, Mama Silk," I told her one day. "And you are going to be my secret weapon. You're going to have so much money you won't know what to do with it. Maybe you can go back to China and visit the Great Wall. Unless that's only fun for tourists."
"Yesss," said Mama Silk in a small shaky voice as she looked up at me and smiled shyly, not understanding a word I had said. Her eyes, small and glossy, were surrounded by soft brown wrinkly skin and the craziest fly away eyebrows imaginable. Mama Silk always smelled faintly of lavender and thyme, which made me want to lie down and nap, but the beauty of the fabric in every direction always kept my eyes wide with enchantment.
I got off the streetcar, popped into the liquor store on the corner to get a cheap bottle of Champaign and then walked the few blocks on College Street towards Mama Silk's shop. I passed by the Chinese markets with their wears spilling out onto the sidewalk with the little old shopkeepers tending to the fruits and vegetables. As always, I tried to avoid looking at the dead and featherless fowls hanging by their feet in the windows of the restaurants.
Inside the shop the air was sweet with incense and Mama Silk was sitting behind the counter watching her tiny little television. I rounded the counter following her welcoming wave and sat for a few minutes watching what appeared to be a Chinese soap opera. There was an absolutely beautiful young woman on the screen crying and beating the chest of what could only be described as a Chinese Bo Brady.
Mama silk pointed shyly at the girl on TV, "Grandotta".
"That's your granddaughter?"
"Yesss."
"Wow. She's stunning." I said.
"Grandotta. Yesss."
I presented the flowers to Mama Silk and announced to her the news of my graduation and new job. Pouring a glass of wine for each of us and clinking them together I said, "Thank you Mama Silk. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Good Girl". Her English was improving. Sipping our wine, we gazed around the shop at the beautiful array of fabrics on horizontal racks reaching to the ceiling. The store was bursting with fabric; many of the bolts were leaning into corners with nowhere else to go. The typical retail style for a fabric store consists of little tables full of knick-knacks, 'Buy Me' items, pieces of furniture, and artwork for sale on the walls. With, so many items crammed in, the fabric is usually lost in the background. Those shops are lovely and fun to peruse, but Mama Silk's shop catered only to fabric-aholics like me. No distractions, just fabric in the front and more fabric in the back. It was truly wonderful.
I left Mama Silk's a little while later. I had to take the subway to get back home. I watched the passengers rhythmically weave in and out of the doors at each station as though performing a well rehearsed do-see-do with a hundred different partners. The soft dinging of the doors provided the tempo. I couldn't bear to read the advertising above the windows for the millionth time so sitting in the uncomfortable orange plastic seat I idly took stock of the last few years of my life. I thought about coming to the city four years earlier first with my father, by then retired, to find an apartment. He was determined to make sure that I lived in a safe area if I insisted on moving so far away from home. This meant paying a little more in rent than I hoped to budget for, but my father would have it no other way. Kelly insisted on moving with me, which made the notion of the daunting city a little less frightening. She planned to pursue her modeling career, forgoing college. I would have advised against it if she weren't so beautiful with her dark blonde hair and captivating blue eyes. The splash of freckles across her nose only added to her charm.
Before leaving home, I had spent exactly a thousand dollars on an apartment suite of furniture, consisting of a green vinyl loveseat and couch, two end tables and a coffee table veneered in what looked like 70's wall paneling trimmed with gold colored plastic. I added two shaded lamps and a plain brown bed frame with a dresser. It wasn't sexy, but it was practical and better than nothing. Kelly and I settled in to our apartment, ate a lot of takeout food and then took the bus home for our first visit after just one week.
Ben met up with us at Ziggy's, the local Chatsford bar
"Ladies!" he proclaimed pulling us both into an enthusiastic bear hug, jiggling us around like a couple of rag dolls. "Well, I've had it. I thought I could just hang out here and be miserable for the rest of my life, but it's really, really boring. Any room on your couch?"
Of course there was, and Ben soon became a permanent fixture in what we called the soup chair in the corner of our living room. The soup chair was shaped like a bowl topped with a big round tufted beige cushion. It belonged to Kelly, but Ben claimed it for himself and refused to let anyone else sit in it. He would sometimes even sleep in the soup chair to make sure that nobody would steal it from him the next morning. We all had become quite fond of our little apartment even though we had done nothing really to improve on it since we moved in. It was our collective home away from home where we all came and went as we pleased.
Having Ben and Kelly with me gave me the courage to make it through school and survive the solitude I often faced there. Not quite fitting in with the other girls was sometimes difficult , but I knew my two best friends would be there for me when I got home. They loyally listened to my complaints about Carla over a glass of wine or dragged me out to a club to cheer me up. They insisted that I attempt to enjoy my youth instead of fretting it away, project after project.
During my last year at the Institute of Design, however, our lives were beginning to change. Each of us seemed to become a little more caught up in our own worlds, trying out life without each other as proverbial crutches. Kelly seemed to be the best at it. She had made so many friends and was always out clubbing or on dates. While Ben and I often found ourselves just hanging around the apartment with not much to do or say.
I couldn't help but wonder what would happen next as I ascended from the fluorescent underground of the subway and headed the rest of the way home on foot. I arrived back at my apartment just as the sun was setting over the tall buildings, casting rays of orange light across the polluted city sky. I couldn't wait to tell Ben and Kelly about my incredible day. I found Ben stretched out on the couch with his eyes lazily fixed on the television. A long black cord connected the PlayStation to the remote control in his hand.
"Hey Ben," I said, swooping up his legs and plopping down on the couch beneath them. "Where's Kelly?"
He grunted and shrugged his broad shoulders. I casually looked him over. If he had accomplished nothing else since high school, Ben had matured physically into a man. He was tall and lean with the body of a swimmer. Although I usually tried not to notice.
As Ben continued to play his game I looked around the living room. It was an embarrassment. I was a design graduate and thanks to the landlord failing to paint before we moved in, I was stuck living in a pastel paradise. Pastel that clashed with my cheap, tacky, green furniture. Each room was a different shade, some with obnoxious wallpaper borders. The living room, for instance, boasted a boarder with a chain of elephants walking in a continuous line holding on to the tail in front of them with their trunks. The sun's orange rays began to flow in through the picture window and descend upon the walls, reminding me of an African Safari.
My keen senses eventually noticed that Ben had the stereo going. Coming through the speakers was the slow droning of a woman who clearly had childhood issues she was trying to work through. Singing, ". . . I hate the smell of cotton candy on Sunday afternoon and I hate the clown with the yellow balloons . . ."
"What are you listening to?" I asked skeptically.
"Pale," he said in tone that suggested that I should have already known.
"It's terrible." I teased.
"The singer's a hottie."
"She sounds unstable."
"The beautiful ones always are." Ben said and I couldn't argue that fact.
"Speaking of hotties." It was a weak segue, I admitted to myself. "A certain hottie graduated today. Thanks for giving a crap," I said as I pinched Ben's leg.
Ben paused the game, tossed the remote on the table and sat up to face me. His expression softened and after a moment he said, "Eve. I'm sorry. I forgot that today was the day. Congratulations." He huffed me on the shoulder leaving a pulsing stinging sensation behind. "We'll celebrate this weekend okay?"
"Make that next weekend. I'm going to go home for a few days. Madge told me to take a break before I start my new job." I still couldn't believe my luck.
"You just graduated today and you already have a job?" His dumbfounded reaction elated me.
"Of course I do. I'm that good Ben. I've been telling you for years." I smiled widely. "Madge offered me a job at her studio. Isn't that cool?"
"That's awesome - you can buy the drinks then."
"Very funny." I said. We sat in silence for a few moments staring at the frozen race car on the Television screen. "Well, I'm off to bed," I told him. "Good Night."
"Yeah. . ., G'night." Ben jumped off the couch and into the soup chair picking up the video game remote off the table.
"Good night Benji," I said to tease him with the name he hated.
"Good night Evelyn," he replied without missing a beat. He knew I detested that name, insisting my whole life that everyone call me Eve. Evelyn was much too mature of a name for a girl like me. I went to bed that night with the events of the day dancing around in my mind. My presentation, Madge's job offer, the unfortunate Carla situation. When I my thoughts to the idea of spending a few days at home, the comfort in that was enough to soothe me to sleep.
"Listen Kiddo. I'm leaving after graduation." My older brother Len told me in sibling confidence as we sat up talking after our parents retired for the evening to enjoy their wine induced holiday slumbers.
I was too shocked to speak. He was planning to leave me behind?! Being two years older, of course he would graduate before me, but leave town without me? It was unfathomable.
"I'm going to graphic design school in Toronto. I won't have any trouble getting a job in the city when I'm done. I think it'll make mom and dad really proud." His voice was slightly pleading as though he was asking for my blessing. Len was a very talented artist and I knew he would never be able to do what he loved for a living if he stayed in the wasteland of a town that we called home.
It was good that his plan included a little something for mom and dad too, since he had spent all of his previous years driving them absolutely mad. Len had been a typical rambunctious boy and to my mother's chagrin, never grew out of it. But that Christmas evening he was focused, and he was thinking about his future.
"But what about me?" I asked. I couldn't help myself. I wanted the best for Len but I couldn't imagine life without him there to protect me. That's what big brothers are for.
Len chuckled knowingly, "You'll come too Kiddo - once you graduate. You have to go where the opportunities are and that's in the city. Nobody here even knows what an Interior Designer is. They've all got their heads screwed on backwards."
I was relieved - and then really excited about his plan for us. It was going to be great! We were going to take the city by storm. The artistic Monroe siblings. The clan from the north. Len would work for some incredible magazine and I'd be the next top designer - maybe I'd even end up on City TV! Look out world!
We were into the first week of spring when Len was unexpectedly robbed of his plans for future; we were all robbed of them actually. Sun filtered in through the living room windows in wide ethereal beams as though God himself were watching the events unfold. Jerry, one of my father's best friends and fellow police officer, approached the door and rang the bell. My father answered and quickly stepped outside onto the patio stones with him. I watched from behind the door where I could see them both through the small beveled glass window. I watched as my father suddenly doubled over grabbing onto his knees to steady himself as though Jerry had punched him in the stomach. My heart sank.
My father's voice was somber and steady when he came back inside. "Len's gone. A drunk driver ran him and Ben off the road last night." I drew in an disbelieving breath. "Ben's in the hospital, but Len didn't make it.... I'm so sorry baby." He said hanging his head choking back his tears trying to be strong for me.
Without responding, I helplessly ran upstairs to Len's bedroom - I heard my mother wail in pain behind me and I wanted to be with her but I stayed there in Len's bed instead. I didn't leave that spot until I was forced to drag my limp, lifeless, and soulless body to attend the funeral services. Time drifted by in a fog, days turned into nights without me giving them much notice. It was my mother's gentle prodding in between her thoughts of tears that eventually drove me out of the house and back to school. Once there, Ben never left my side. Which was a blessing and a curse since he only provided me with a constant reminder of Len. But he had lost his best friend in the world and it somehow made him feel better to be near me.
I walked the halls of our school like a zombie for months and Kelly felt it was her duty as my best friend to remind me, very diplomatically, that I take a shower or at least apply some mascara once in a while. I would sometimes think that I saw Len ahead of me in the hall or ducking into a classroom. But I would always quickly realize, with what felt like a blow to the stomach, that it couldn't be him because he was no longer there at the school or anywhere that I would be able to talk to him or laugh with him or confide in him again.
I managed to make it through my last two years of high school with the help of Ben and Kelly and the rest of our friends. And although I never felt quite whole, I managed to carry on and eventually behave like a normal teenager again. I even smiled on occasion. When I finally donned my graduation cap and gown, I subsequently conceded fully to the nagging voice in my head telling me to hit the road and make mom and dad proud. It was Len's voice. Somehow I knew that although he was no longer there to lead the way, he was still with me. It's time to move on Kiddo. With my mother's strength, my father's good sense, and Len's memory packed in my suitcase, I moved to Toronto where I had been accepted into the prestigious Institute of Design.
4 Years Later
Sitting in class watching the other presentations, I was simply a ball of nerves waiting for my turn. I was scheduled to be the last presenter, at the end of the last class, on my last day of school. I was horrified. Public speaking was not my forte. Having all eyes on me generated an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that resonated in the back of my throat.
Carla, the girl ahead of me, was good. Her project was the lobby of a new commercial building downtown. It was sleek and modern. The floors were marble and elaborately detailed. The couches were soft brown leather, tables stylishly low to the floor, and the chandelier was to die for. It was made up of hundreds of emerald cut glass pieces that took the shape of a seahorse! The walls were covered in light green textured wallpaper and the artwork was modern abstract - somewhat boring, truth be told. The colors all worked together and most of the materials made sense. The security/reception desk was in the middle of the space with elevators off a short distance to either side. The lobby was lovely at first glance, but I could easily pick out a handful of things that were wrong or missing from the overall project design.
Carla was tall and unreasonably thin, with sharp, but attractive features. An olive complexion, green eyes, and long-layered brown hair gave her an exotic look. She had a tattoo on her left arm, not of a butterfly or a flower, but of a skull and cross bones. Like most of the other girls in the class, she resembled what my mother would call 'death warmed over'. Her clothes were skin-tight and typically black. Her makeup was of the heroin chic variety and her personality - venomous.
There was no obvious theme to the Lobby that I could identify in Carla's presentation. It was just a mish-most of modern and expensive materials. Although the chandelier was lovely, what was the point? It had nothing to do with the location or the occupants. It would have been impressive if it had, but it didn't and therefore was pointless. The elaborate flooring also took away from the chandelier by drawing the eye down instead of up. We had spent plenty of time in the last four years of school going over focal points and environmental psychology. Had she been too busy re-applying her eyeliner to listen in once in while?
Carla went sauntering back to her seat flashing me a challenging smile. Out of habit, not spite, I smiled back at her and then instantly regretted it. Damn my small town manners! Why couldn't I just very coolly have smiled back and perhaps raised one eyebrow as if to say . . . "Nice Lobby, Corpse Bride, now let me show you what a real Design Piece should look like?"
It was my turn to present. My hopes and dreams rested on this final project. The top student at the end of the program had a chance to be offered a position as an apprentice at Professor McNally's infamous studio in the Art and Design district. I took a deep breath, and descended from the stadium style stairs to the front of the class. In the pit below, I began quickly mounting my design boards onto the wall. With each board that went up, I could hear whispering from the students at my back. There were five boards in all and with the last one in place I looked down at my shoes to gain my composure. They were old and scuffed up, but every dime I had was going into tuition and materials for school and not into my wardrobe. My suit still looked great though; it was a black slim fitting cotton and wool blend in with a skinny faux alligator belt. It was the only suit I owned and it had been worn only once before to Len's funeral.
"Deep breath." I told myself. As the room fell silent I turned around slowly to face my peers.
They were all uniformly leaning forward in their seats, some with smirks on their faces and others just looking confused. I turned back to look at the presentation boards and my heart stopped. They were all upside down! I felt my face flush red and instantaneously began to sweat from every pore in my body.
I corrected the tiny boards as quickly as I could manage. Life is full of moments. That unpleasant moment had passed and it was time to move on. Once everyone stopped giggling, I addressed my audience again. "As you can see this is a design layout for a 4,500 ft beach house. It is located in Malibu, California and is a currently existing structure. The owners have asked that I update it to make it a space that they can entertain in all year round as well as invite guests to stay and live comfortably for weeks at a time. The owners and their group of friends are in the music industry and enjoy fine dining and elegant affairs. They take their health very seriously and enjoy exercising and eating well; they have a permanent chef. I collaborated with the chef to come up with a very modern kitchen and incorporated his ideas into the open concept of the main floor living space. The kitchen also serves as a service pickup area for the wait staff during parties."
Every aspect of the house had been carefully thought out, right down to my not yet trademarked focal wall, consisting of three large sunflowers. In this instance I chose to place them above the fireplace which had a solid wood mantle that sat very low and wide. The flowers, so bold and elegant in serene sepia tones, managed to bring all the elements of the house together.
It was my mother who had inspired my sunflower motifs. On a visit home, she took me into the front yard to show me that she planted sunflowers, quite where they didn't belong, in her bare and un-landscaped yard against the front of the house. They stood tall and certainly stood out against Mom's last project, which was to paint the entire house blue. The flowers captured my heart that day as my mother stood beaming at her masterpiece. I was amazed at the audacity and inspiring beauty of the sunflowers and my mother alike.
Wrapping up my presentation, I looked up at my audience. Some of my peers looked a bit frightened while others were looking on with pen and paper in hand taking notes, hopefully not stealing my ideas again. In the front row, Professor McNally was beaming. I concluded the presentation by letting everyone know that the key to being a good designer is being a good listener and thanking them for their time.
Good job, Kiddo. I allowed myself to imagine Len's voice in my head over the years encouraging me to push forward. Sometimes I wondered weather it was healthy for me or not.
"I would like to speak to you after class." Professor McNally whispered as we shook hands and traded places in the 'pit'.
Madge McNally was from the Caribbean but lived in England most of her adult life. She had only a faint accent that would lead you to believe that she wasn't born and raised in Canada. She was in her early forties and always wore her hair down in big loose curls. Her wardrobe consisted of leather shoes in an array of colors and her ever present designer jeans and suit jackets. Slender and tall, the professor's chin was set confidently and permanently in an upward position, something I tried to emulate.
Waiting for the room to clear, I was spastically nervous. Some of the girls stopped to say how they liked my project, and others like Carla, just snorted in disgust and walked quickly by.
I had only one friend in class. Her name was Jade. She was literally down to earth, always talking "green" and natural materials. Jade had some truly fabulous ideas for the decorating and design industry that would also benefit the environment and would last almost forever. I vowed to work with her one day on absolutely anything that I could. She was brilliant. It seemed that I missed her leaving the classroom however and didn't get to say good-bye.
I couldn't decide whether Madge just wanted to have a chat and say goodbye and good luck in your future endeavors, or if I were about to be rewarded for all my hard work over the last four years with the internship at her design firm. She could have no idea just how much the internship would mean to me.
"Ms. Monroe. Are you lost inside your head again?" asked Professor McNally in a warm voice when she returned to the room. She had been in the hall saying goodbye to all of her students and wishing them well.
Snapping back to life I forced a nervous smile, "I'm here."
"Good. Excellent presentation today, as usual my Dear," the Professor said, which set the tone for our conversation. She sat next to me and gave me a little side squeeze around the shoulders. She turned in her chair so we could face one another.
"Thanks Madge.'' I freely called her by her first name when there were no other students around. "I thought I was going to die when I put the boards up that way."
"You recovered well. Clients appreciate it when you don't have a complete meltdown under pressure."
"Clients," I sighed. "Don't remind me that I have to go and live in the real world now that school's over and find clients of my own to pay off my tuition."
"Well my Dear, that's why I wanted to talk to you. You've done a fabulous job servicing the clients that I've had you borrow for your projects. Far better than anyone else in your class - in all my years teaching actually. I'd like you to come and work for me, Eve."
"You're giving me the apprenticeship?" I exclaimed the question while a feeling of relief washed over me. I'd worked so hard and would be crushed to see it go to somebody else; although I had prepared myself to be a graceful loser if that where the case.
"No. I'd like you to come and work for me and take over some clients of mine. I'm giving the apprenticeship to Carla."
It took a minute for her words to sink in.
"You're offering me a job?" I couldn't stop my voice from becoming high pitched with the notion of having a job right out of school. It was almost unheard of. Then something else sunk in.
"And you're offering Carla the apprenticeship position? So what does that make me?" Besides miserable, I thought.
"You'll be what you are. A designer."
"You're kidding me? This is too much, you're messing with me," I accused.
"I can tell you for certain, that I am not messing with you. You are the best designer that has come through my class in years. You're a very personable young lady and my clients love you. So where does that leave me? If I take you on as an apprentice, you will lose credibility with them, so I guess I have to hire you instead. So, do you want the job or do you want to be a free agent?"
Without hesitation I replied, "I want the job!" I could no longer contain my excitement and almost jumped into Madge's lap hugging her neck. Madge just laughed. "Now, as you know, it's my partner that runs the studio full-time. You have an appointment to meet with her in two weeks. Here." She handed me a business card.
"9:00 A.M. sharp at the studio. Enjoy your time off because it's a fast paced business with deadlines and demanding clients. I suggest you pay a visit to your mom and dad because you won't be seeing them for a while."
"I will Madge. Thank you." My voice cracked. I was completely overwhelmed by that point.
"Don't let me down, I've vouched for you with Miki and she's seen your work. I need you to live up to your reputation. Now get out of here and go celebrate your graduation." She said.
"Thank you again. I won't let you down." I spun out of the classroom and out the front door of the school skipping three steps at a time down the stairs to the walkway. I stopped thereto recap what had just transpired. First, I wasn't even sure if I would be getting the apprenticeship or not, and then suddenly I had a full-fledged job! Thinking of the apprenticeship and knowing it had gone to Carla was like being handed a bouquet of roses and a slap in the face. That meant that we would be working in the same studio and Carla would be apprentice to Miki, Madge's business partner and acting president of the company.
I turned around to take in the Design Academy one last time. The building was done by Jason Nichols, a local architect, who with an enormous amount of glass and metal, bent and curved a beautiful structure to resemble a silhouette of Marilyn Monroe lying on her side. Being molded into an Interior Designer at that school had been the best experience of my life thus far. Solemnly I reminded myself that if it weren't for the insurance money I received after Len's death, I never would have been able to afford to go there in the first place.
"Are you OK?" asked Jade. She was standing right in front of me and I hadn't noticed her. "Eve?"
I gave my head a nod. "Yeah, I'm alright." I said. "Hey congratulations. We're all done. You're presentation was fabulous!" I really meant it. Jade's final project was an eco friendly spa in Kensington Market. A part of the city where people sold second hand and redesigned clothes; a vegan restaurant on every corner.
"Thanks. Yours was too. Once you turned it the right way," she smiled kindly. Jade's light brown skin sparkled under the sun. She had her dreadlocked hair tied back in a thick pony tail with a long strip of red fabric. I asked her once how she got her hair into dread locks. Apparently she just stopped washing it. After it started clumping up, she added beeswax to it and voila! Gross. No wonder they're called "dread" locks, I had told her.
"So what are you up to now? Some of the girls are going to The Spot to celebrate." The Spot was a trendy bar just down the street from the Academy where students from all walks of life drank and comingled.
I declined politely, "I think I'm just going to go home, but thanks." Jade didn't seem surprised by my answer. I was a bit of an outcast and that hadn't suddenly changed because school was finished.
"I just wanted to let you know," Jade said. "The rumor is that you've been offered a job at Signare and Carla's been given the apprenticeship." News travels fast, I thought to myself. "Carla's furious and the other girls are on her side. I guess it's hard for them to believe that they suck as much as they do and that you deserve the job, which you do. I'm happy for you, but watch your back if you're going to be working around Carla. She's a snake. I've gotta run but keep in touch OK?" Jade turned and jogged back toward the school.
The whole exchange made me feel a little more positive that it was going to be hell working with Carla around. I had been really looking forward to never seeing her again after school was finished.
I stood looking at my precious school. The institution which had molded me into a serious young designer. The place I no longer needed to be. It was the middle of the day and so I jumped on the streetcar at Spadina headed for Chinatown and my favorite little fabric shop. But it was no ordinary fabric shop. It was my little piece of heaven in a foreign world which carried only the most beautify array of silks in an endless rainbow of colors. The owner, a little Chinese woman perhaps in her 60s, didn't speak English and I certainly did not speak Chinese, but we both spoke the language of fabric and therefore got along superbly. I would often bring in a project piece and we would work on it together, coordinating patterns and textures and hues. Never needing more than just a sample, the owner, who I referred to as Mama Silk, rarely charged me more than a dollar for an armful of her exquisite fabrics. I found myself wondering if that was the only English, Mama Silk knew and that was why she only ever charged "one dolla". Mama Silk always delighted in showing me the new stock shipped in directly from her homeland. At the end of every visit she would always give my hand a soft squeeze and what could only be perceived as an affectionate smile over the counter.
Throughout school, my classmates were always baffled by the quality of my samples. As too was Professor McNally, who couldn't help but caress the fabrics herself, when I presented her with various projects at different stages for her assistance and advice. I never told a soul about Mama Silk's location. It was selfish, but I knew my secret was critical, as Mama Silk would play a very important role in my career one day. I promised that when I became a designer I would purchase fabric from no one else to repay her for her kindness.
"I'm going to be a famous designer, Mama Silk," I told her one day. "And you are going to be my secret weapon. You're going to have so much money you won't know what to do with it. Maybe you can go back to China and visit the Great Wall. Unless that's only fun for tourists."
"Yesss," said Mama Silk in a small shaky voice as she looked up at me and smiled shyly, not understanding a word I had said. Her eyes, small and glossy, were surrounded by soft brown wrinkly skin and the craziest fly away eyebrows imaginable. Mama Silk always smelled faintly of lavender and thyme, which made me want to lie down and nap, but the beauty of the fabric in every direction always kept my eyes wide with enchantment.
I got off the streetcar, popped into the liquor store on the corner to get a cheap bottle of Champaign and then walked the few blocks on College Street towards Mama Silk's shop. I passed by the Chinese markets with their wears spilling out onto the sidewalk with the little old shopkeepers tending to the fruits and vegetables. As always, I tried to avoid looking at the dead and featherless fowls hanging by their feet in the windows of the restaurants.
Inside the shop the air was sweet with incense and Mama Silk was sitting behind the counter watching her tiny little television. I rounded the counter following her welcoming wave and sat for a few minutes watching what appeared to be a Chinese soap opera. There was an absolutely beautiful young woman on the screen crying and beating the chest of what could only be described as a Chinese Bo Brady.
Mama silk pointed shyly at the girl on TV, "Grandotta".
"That's your granddaughter?"
"Yesss."
"Wow. She's stunning." I said.
"Grandotta. Yesss."
I presented the flowers to Mama Silk and announced to her the news of my graduation and new job. Pouring a glass of wine for each of us and clinking them together I said, "Thank you Mama Silk. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Good Girl". Her English was improving. Sipping our wine, we gazed around the shop at the beautiful array of fabrics on horizontal racks reaching to the ceiling. The store was bursting with fabric; many of the bolts were leaning into corners with nowhere else to go. The typical retail style for a fabric store consists of little tables full of knick-knacks, 'Buy Me' items, pieces of furniture, and artwork for sale on the walls. With, so many items crammed in, the fabric is usually lost in the background. Those shops are lovely and fun to peruse, but Mama Silk's shop catered only to fabric-aholics like me. No distractions, just fabric in the front and more fabric in the back. It was truly wonderful.
I left Mama Silk's a little while later. I had to take the subway to get back home. I watched the passengers rhythmically weave in and out of the doors at each station as though performing a well rehearsed do-see-do with a hundred different partners. The soft dinging of the doors provided the tempo. I couldn't bear to read the advertising above the windows for the millionth time so sitting in the uncomfortable orange plastic seat I idly took stock of the last few years of my life. I thought about coming to the city four years earlier first with my father, by then retired, to find an apartment. He was determined to make sure that I lived in a safe area if I insisted on moving so far away from home. This meant paying a little more in rent than I hoped to budget for, but my father would have it no other way. Kelly insisted on moving with me, which made the notion of the daunting city a little less frightening. She planned to pursue her modeling career, forgoing college. I would have advised against it if she weren't so beautiful with her dark blonde hair and captivating blue eyes. The splash of freckles across her nose only added to her charm.
Before leaving home, I had spent exactly a thousand dollars on an apartment suite of furniture, consisting of a green vinyl loveseat and couch, two end tables and a coffee table veneered in what looked like 70's wall paneling trimmed with gold colored plastic. I added two shaded lamps and a plain brown bed frame with a dresser. It wasn't sexy, but it was practical and better than nothing. Kelly and I settled in to our apartment, ate a lot of takeout food and then took the bus home for our first visit after just one week.
Ben met up with us at Ziggy's, the local Chatsford bar
"Ladies!" he proclaimed pulling us both into an enthusiastic bear hug, jiggling us around like a couple of rag dolls. "Well, I've had it. I thought I could just hang out here and be miserable for the rest of my life, but it's really, really boring. Any room on your couch?"
Of course there was, and Ben soon became a permanent fixture in what we called the soup chair in the corner of our living room. The soup chair was shaped like a bowl topped with a big round tufted beige cushion. It belonged to Kelly, but Ben claimed it for himself and refused to let anyone else sit in it. He would sometimes even sleep in the soup chair to make sure that nobody would steal it from him the next morning. We all had become quite fond of our little apartment even though we had done nothing really to improve on it since we moved in. It was our collective home away from home where we all came and went as we pleased.
Having Ben and Kelly with me gave me the courage to make it through school and survive the solitude I often faced there. Not quite fitting in with the other girls was sometimes difficult , but I knew my two best friends would be there for me when I got home. They loyally listened to my complaints about Carla over a glass of wine or dragged me out to a club to cheer me up. They insisted that I attempt to enjoy my youth instead of fretting it away, project after project.
During my last year at the Institute of Design, however, our lives were beginning to change. Each of us seemed to become a little more caught up in our own worlds, trying out life without each other as proverbial crutches. Kelly seemed to be the best at it. She had made so many friends and was always out clubbing or on dates. While Ben and I often found ourselves just hanging around the apartment with not much to do or say.
I couldn't help but wonder what would happen next as I ascended from the fluorescent underground of the subway and headed the rest of the way home on foot. I arrived back at my apartment just as the sun was setting over the tall buildings, casting rays of orange light across the polluted city sky. I couldn't wait to tell Ben and Kelly about my incredible day. I found Ben stretched out on the couch with his eyes lazily fixed on the television. A long black cord connected the PlayStation to the remote control in his hand.
"Hey Ben," I said, swooping up his legs and plopping down on the couch beneath them. "Where's Kelly?"
He grunted and shrugged his broad shoulders. I casually looked him over. If he had accomplished nothing else since high school, Ben had matured physically into a man. He was tall and lean with the body of a swimmer. Although I usually tried not to notice.
As Ben continued to play his game I looked around the living room. It was an embarrassment. I was a design graduate and thanks to the landlord failing to paint before we moved in, I was stuck living in a pastel paradise. Pastel that clashed with my cheap, tacky, green furniture. Each room was a different shade, some with obnoxious wallpaper borders. The living room, for instance, boasted a boarder with a chain of elephants walking in a continuous line holding on to the tail in front of them with their trunks. The sun's orange rays began to flow in through the picture window and descend upon the walls, reminding me of an African Safari.
My keen senses eventually noticed that Ben had the stereo going. Coming through the speakers was the slow droning of a woman who clearly had childhood issues she was trying to work through. Singing, ". . . I hate the smell of cotton candy on Sunday afternoon and I hate the clown with the yellow balloons . . ."
"What are you listening to?" I asked skeptically.
"Pale," he said in tone that suggested that I should have already known.
"It's terrible." I teased.
"The singer's a hottie."
"She sounds unstable."
"The beautiful ones always are." Ben said and I couldn't argue that fact.
"Speaking of hotties." It was a weak segue, I admitted to myself. "A certain hottie graduated today. Thanks for giving a crap," I said as I pinched Ben's leg.
Ben paused the game, tossed the remote on the table and sat up to face me. His expression softened and after a moment he said, "Eve. I'm sorry. I forgot that today was the day. Congratulations." He huffed me on the shoulder leaving a pulsing stinging sensation behind. "We'll celebrate this weekend okay?"
"Make that next weekend. I'm going to go home for a few days. Madge told me to take a break before I start my new job." I still couldn't believe my luck.
"You just graduated today and you already have a job?" His dumbfounded reaction elated me.
"Of course I do. I'm that good Ben. I've been telling you for years." I smiled widely. "Madge offered me a job at her studio. Isn't that cool?"
"That's awesome - you can buy the drinks then."
"Very funny." I said. We sat in silence for a few moments staring at the frozen race car on the Television screen. "Well, I'm off to bed," I told him. "Good Night."
"Yeah. . ., G'night." Ben jumped off the couch and into the soup chair picking up the video game remote off the table.
"Good night Benji," I said to tease him with the name he hated.
"Good night Evelyn," he replied without missing a beat. He knew I detested that name, insisting my whole life that everyone call me Eve. Evelyn was much too mature of a name for a girl like me. I went to bed that night with the events of the day dancing around in my mind. My presentation, Madge's job offer, the unfortunate Carla situation. When I my thoughts to the idea of spending a few days at home, the comfort in that was enough to soothe me to sleep.
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