Chapter 9

“Devon!” my mom screams, waving wildly at me through the crowd. Michelle stands next to her, bouncing around. Quinn and I both pick up speed and run to them.

The instant Mom’s arms wrap around me, I sink into her. It’s been an emotional two days, and the overwhelming urge to cry creeps up on me. Leaving Brazil was much harder than I imagined. My team bonded during the past six weeks. Even though we would share classes in the fall, it would be different. We agreed to keep in touch, especially as we prepared our final projects. Being around them twelve hours a day formed a closeness that can’t be replicated with a few hours in class.

The hardest part was saying goodbye to Shana. She’s staying for a few more days to cover a network-specific story before going to Virginia. I watched her closely when she said goodbye to everyone, including Professor Grant, as we piled onto the bus. To anyone else, it looked like a normal hug, but I saw the sadness in both their faces. Her glassy eyes caught mine, and I gave her a smile of encouragement. Quinn and I already decided that Shana has the five weeks until school starts before we play matchmaker.

I’m brought back to reality by my mom’s voice. “You okay, honey?”

“Yes, glad to be home.”

She nods and links her arm through mine. As we make our way to the baggage-claim area, she and Michelle fire questions at Quinn and me. Finally, we hand our phones to them to scroll through pictures as we watch for our bags.

We eventually get to the car, where our dads are waiting curbside. My earlier emotions fade away at the excitement of being home. In my attempt to dodge Bryce and his family for that year and a half, I avoided coming home for extended periods of time. Now, I have two whole weeks before going back to Charlottesville.

Once we get to the house, the Jacksons leave, and Mom helps me lug all my stuff upstairs. As I unpack, I tell her about my conversation with Shana. She’s unusually quiet when I finish, staring at me blankly.

“What’s your take on it?” I ask.

“There’s a lot to think about. Sounds to me like she speaks from experience and saw a chance to share that with you.”

“I’ve dissected it to death. To be honest, it scares me. I never thought I’d be asked to choose between Bryce and my career.”

Her face floods with concern. “Baby, if you marry Bryce, there is no choice. He’s it. Have you two really talked about the future?”

I nod and tell her about the conversation we had the night in my apartment, leaving out the sex.

“Well, it sounds like you think you know what you’re getting into, but he softened the blow. I’m going to tell you the truth. You may think you researched being a Navy wife, but the cold hard facts are the Navy is going to dictate a lot of your life. Decisions will be made. That boy will turn himself in knots to make you happy, but some things can’t be controlled. Your career will not be considered when the Navy makes their assignments.”

“I’ll have him, though.”

“Yes, you will. And I think that may be what Shana was saying. True love will win out over everything. She regrets losing it, even with all she’s accomplished.”

“Do you think I’m being naïve?”

“No, but I do think you’ve overlooked some very important issues. I knew in Aspen he was going to win you over. It was obvious to me that his future would include you. He broke your heart, but he also put it back together.

“Nate may say I see rainbows and unicorns, and he’s right. When it comes to my children, I want you to be happy. Did I know you would be engaged in less than six months of dating, no, but it’s not a surprise. Maybe it sets me apart from other moms, but being a young bride does not worry me. What does worry me is that you haven’t thought about the impact it will take on your life.”

“Mom, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Let me lay it out for you. Two years ago, I sat in this very position, talking to you about changing the course of your life because of a broken heart. I told you then, and I’ll repeat it now—my job is to make sure you’re okay. You went to UVA with your sights set on your professional future. He was out of the picture completely. Now, he’s not, so you need to adjust your future.”

“Do you think going to MFA School is a waste? That I’ll never be able to completely pursue a career in photojournalism?”

“Not at all. I think Shana was telling you that you can have both—love and a career, and to not get lost in the hype of the industry.”

I lie down next to her, curling around her hip like a child. “You’re truly the best mom ever.”

“And you are the best daughter. I have one more piece of advice. I’d advise against telling Bryce most of your conversation. That boy’s already a bit high strung when it comes to you. He wants to hand you the world, and he’s questioning his own choices. It’s your job to be strong and encouraging. When he was trying to get assigned to the base on Norfolk, Nate said he was freaked out. Sheila says she was scared for his sanity.”

I giggle and lean back, releasing her. “He’s sort of intense.”

“Sort of? Pretty sure that’s the only reason your dad gave him permission, or his blessing, to propose. We’re both certain that man will worship you forever.”

“Think Daddy will freak out if we get married before I go into the Master’s program?”

“Why do you think I went ahead and got these?”

She reaches down the opposite side of my bed and lifts a stack of bridal magazines. I squeal and reach for them.

Oh, yeah, this is going to be fun.

Students:

Welcome home! I must tell you once again that it was an absolute pleasure to lead this group to South America. There is no doubt that I grew as a person and professional from this experience.

It has come to my attention that NBC, the official news network for the 2016 Summer Olympics, will begin coverage this Thursday. They will launch an entire series, spotlighting almost every element of these games. From the construction of the venues, the determination of the athletes, and the economic impact. They will essentially be covering everything we spent the last six weeks researching.

Unfortunately, this affects us tremendously. I’ve spoken to all senior members involved with the Summer Expo, and we must make some changes to your assignments. We are asking that you complete an outline and diagram for your final two papers by NEXT FRIDAY.

We understand and sympathize that this timeline is extremely aggressive and cuts down two weeks of your original final assignment, but we feel we can safely protect the integrity of the work if not touched by outside influences. No one is insinuating that you would rely on news to complete your work, but this allows us the opportunity to send them to our sponsors, partners, and local affiliates to get the attention and appreciation you deserve. There will always be room for changes, but this will be your foundation.

It was already discussed that we would run stories each week in the campus paper, but this is more for the benefit of the larger sources. If you have any trouble, please contact me or your team leaders. We are all here and willing to help.

Also, we encourage you to work in tandem with your team and peers. This is the part of the program that speaks to your creativity and voice.

Once again, I am available if you have questions.

Sincerely,

Professor Henry Grant

Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit! I re-read the email again and pick up my phone as it rings in my hand.

“There really is only one solution to this. We work together,” Quinn states matter-of-factly.

“I agree. You coming here?”

“Yes, you have the photo software. I’ll fill in my parents and be there soon.”

“See you then.” I hang up and grab my camera, hooking it up to my computer. My phone rings again with an out of area number.

“Hello?”

“Jesus, I missed hearing you.” Bryce’s hoarse voice flows through the line.

“Bryce! Where have you been?”

“We’ve been in lockdown. Didn’t you get my text?”

“THREE DAYS AGO!” I screech.

“Has it been three days? Shit.” He sounds exhausted.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I was worried.”

“Me too. I haven’t even showered yet. Needed to hear your voice. It’s been a rough few days.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Not now. I don’t even want to think about it. How was your trip home? What’s going on?”

“Besides missing you like crazy?”

“Five and a half more weeks.”

I start to say something about that being too long but decide against it. He doesn’t need to worry. So, instead, I tell him about the going away party, the trip home, and the latest email about my projects.

“Wow, sounds like you’re going to be busy.”

“And we have to be in Kentucky the first few days of August for NCAA Cheerleading camp. This helps with our bid to Nationals.”

“Is it co-ed?”

“Of course.”

He groans in the phone. “How much longer are you cheering?”

“As long as I can.”

“It almost killed me in Miami to watch those guys feeling all over you. Not sure how I’m going to get through football season.” He no longer sounds tired but more pissed off.

“Are you really jealous of my teammates?”

“Yeah. Thinking about petitioning the school to insist on shorts instead of skirts.”

“BRYCE! Don’t you dare!” I protest, knowing he would do it.

“Maybe you could stop shaving your legs and washing your hair. Anything to keep the guys away.”

“That’s really gross.”

There’s a rustling sound, and then the phone goes quiet. I vaguely hear a female voice in the background. Then Bryce says something back, muffled.

“Listen, I need to go. Nate’s going to call your parents later.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Just someone confirming a project we’re working on tomorrow.”

A nagging feeling slinks up my spine. I start to ask him more but decide to drop it.

“I’m whipped. Need some sleep and a hot shower.”

“Umm,” a moan slips through.

“Devon, quit,” he hisses.

“Hearing you say whipped and shower is sexy.”

“Stop now! I cannot get a hard on here. The guys will never let me live it down.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the sexual frustration coming through.”

“Sexually frustrated is an understatement. You have no idea.”

“Okay, I’ll behave. But before you go, I have to know. Are you going to disappear for another three days?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Quinn knocks lightly and comes into my room with an enormous load of stuff.

“I’d better go, too. Quinn’s here, and I haven’t even told my parents about our new deadline. Call me tonight if you can.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up as Quinn sets up a tack board, dry erase board, and her computer at my desk. I raise an eyebrow but stay quiet, knowing this is how my anal-retentive friend narrows down ideas.

“Let’s rock this shit. I have plans to see Dean in Atlanta this weekend.”

Envy turns in my stomach, wishing I was able to see Bryce. Five and a half weeks can’t get here soon enough.