I had spent the past two Chloe-less weeks covering the apartment with dark moons, teaching myself to do Zhōngguó jié in an attempt to feel closer to my grandfather, and watching old Schitt’s Creek episodes. But to Jason and Marshall’s relief (I was pretty sure if they heard “ew, David” one more time, my laptop was going out the window), I was now giggling on the couch, texting Chloe.

I’d just asked her What kind of car does Chang’e the sheep drive? when my phone buzzed with an email.

Screeeeaming. Literally. I jumped up from the couch and started screaming. Jason and Marshall almost shit themselves, I’m pretty sure, because I almost shit myself and I was the one making the noise.

“I got innnnnn!” I screeched, then immediately called Chloe. Jason and Marshall were jumping up and down when she picked up.

“A Lamborghini!” she answered with a laugh. “That’s so many inside jokes rolled into one.”

“What? Oh shit, right.” I’d forgotten I hadn’t sent the punch line of the what-does-Cháng’é-the-sheep-drive joke, but of course she didn’t need me to. “I have something to tell you,” I burst out. “I got accepted into an art fellowship.”

She yelled so loud I would’ve needed to pull the phone away if I hadn’t been yelling right along with her (and Jason and Marshall). I pumped a fist in the air even though she couldn’t see.

“I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed. But then she paused and her voice lowered. “I mean, if you want me to be. You don’t need more schooling. Unless you want it. I really meant it when I said that doesn’t matter and you should do what’s best for you. I hope you applied because you wanted to, not because of… anything else.”

I wished she hadn’t soured the moment, but I also maybe sort of appreciated the sentiment? Or not. Maybe it sucked that it was still such a big deal.

We were back, but not without a few scars. Probably all for the better in the long run, but a bit painful right now.

“I wanted to try this opportunity because it’s a good fit for me—contemporary art featuring two artists I admire and draw inspiration from. I don’t know if this is the specific track I’ll keep pursuing, but I need to try things to figure out how I want to do this, right?” My nerves were showing more than I’d hoped, but it also felt good to air out my thoughts. My parents had made me believe my art was a dirty secret, and I was just starting to move past that.

“Of course, of course,” Chloe said, still a little on edge.

“Wait, I haven’t told you the best part.”

“How can there be something better?”

“Two somethings,” I clarified.