Writing's Second Taste

Chapter Thirty-Three: Sketchbook

Alright, deep breath, we can do this.

When I happily declared that I was done, Emma refused blankly to let me go next door in my state. She whipped out all of her tools and started doing my hair and makeup.

"At least look like you made an effort."

"But I did make an effort," I frowned just as she clicked her tongue because she was in the middle of doing my contour.

"What I mean is your appearance," she explained. She was silent for a while as she kept on doing her work but after what felt like forever, she spoke once again, this time in quieter voice, "Because maybe it's the last time."

My lips pressed into a thin line and when I looked down on my hands, they were shaking. The high of planning finally settled down and was now replaced with this anxiety tumbling in my stomach. In Adam's perspective, I haven't been acting weird because I didn't want him to think that our last days together were bad memories.

She placed the brush on her dressing table and smiled at me from her reflection on the mirror, "Done."

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

She turned to me and shrugged, "I don't know the whole story but I think the way you're doing it is a lot better than what other people has done."

"Well here goes nothing," I exhaled loudly, standing up and turning to her.

Thank god I at least put on something decent before I came here.

When we came back downstairs, Aunt Janine was finally home and unsurprisingly, reading my manuscript. Her pencil as twirling between her fingers, her eyes rapidly skimming through the words printed on the paper.

While I just planned to smoothly go out and knock on Adam's door, she had other plans. She saw me gather my handiwork and she cleared her throat, stopping whatever momentum I gathered.

"You know, we usually submit a file before actually printing it," she said, removing her reading glasses and placing it down on the table, "Though I have a pretty good idea why you didn't."

"You think it's plausible?" I shot back.

I did it because one it goes through editing, there was a hundred percent chance that some aspects would change. As a writer getting published, it was inevitable. But because I printed it out, it meant that whatever I wrote there, I wanted all of it to stay.

Okay, do the copyediting where you fix my grammar and sentence flow but every single scene should stay.

Even the top authors could rarely demand that.

"I think you know for a fact that it isn't," she replied, "But I'm sure your mother could convince your editors for you."

Oh right, my mother doesn't even know that I finished the book.

"Now you can go," she laughed to lighten my mood, taking what I did and placing it in my waiting hands, "Good luck."

"You think I'm doing the right thing?" I fired the same question I asked her daughter earlier.

The mother and daughter duo shared a quick glance and Aunt Janine flashed me a motherly smile, "You don't owe anyone a relationship, but do I think you owe him an explanation so just make sure to get your point across clearly."

I tried to reciprocate with a smile but all I managed was a forced one. With the pages clutched in my grip, I went out of their apartment and walked a few steps until I was in front of Adam's. Closing my eyes and preparing myself to drill his expression into my memory, I lifted a fist to knock on his door.