I open the front door and close it behind me too forcefully, the key, which I forgot to remove, rattles in the lock. Try as I might, I can’t keep my hands still. Like a small, nervous palm tree. I think I’m trembling - actually trembling - and I burn like red-hot coals.

My hair pouring down over my shoulders and neck drives me crazy, trapping the heat, in a scratchy smothering weight. I’m almost steaming, terrified, and seething. Angry with myself.

I shiver and try to shake the feeling - shake my head until my thoughts are scrambled together.

I need to find something to do, or focus on to distract me - glance around my messy living room, but cleaning it is out of the question.

With something between a groan and a sigh, I throw myself on the couch and cover my face. Something crinkles. I guess I sat on a letter.

Sliding it out from underneath me I realize it’s the letter from the Precioso Veggera Foundation, which I never read.

I pull the check out of the envelope first. I definitely need to cash that, sooner or later, before it expires. Putting the check down on the coffee table, next to one of my dirty collectible cups, puking dirty dribbles of yellow paint over the brim, and onto the flaking, lead-painted cartoon face, I take out the letter, and quickly look it over.

It isn’t an invitation to the Christmas showcase, and I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time - which is ridiculous, but that’s just my resting state at this point. 

I sigh, kind of aggravated, and mutter to myself, “I already figured.” Still, I guess I couldn’t help hoping, just a little bit. Kattar would have been over the moon.

Even the thought of him sets my cheeks burning again. This is the last thing I want to deal with right now - especially now.

I try to shove the letter back into the envelope, but it apparently splits itself down its razor end. What I thought was one sheet of paper, was two gossamer thin printed pages.

I set the envelope back down and study the second sheet, which continues on from where the last one ended. Blah blah blah, ‘Since 1979 The Precioso Veggera Foundation has been dedicated to the creation and distribution of art in all mediums, as a form of artistic humanitarianism. In the words of our founder “Everyone should get to live in a beautiful world,” and we couldn’t agree more.’

With that in mind, there’s nothing that gets us more fired up than a chance to help artists take the next big steps in their artistic journeys and build the creative careers of their dreams - and we (hush don’t tell) have a monster art-crush on you. Here at The Precioso Veggera Foundation, we are passionate about helping new artists achieve their craziest goals (wanna recreate the Eiffel Tower out of Philly Cheesesteaks? We got you.) and finally receive the recognition we know they deserve. We understand (begrudgingly) that this is not an easy process. Every wizard needs a team of cute little munchkins doing the nitty-gritty to help them make their ideas a reality and we want to be your munchkins. If you’re interested please call the number below, or email Juana King, at JXKing@TheVeggeraFoundation.org. We’d love to help you connect with an agent so that your art can grace the public in more venues, and we can get a just little bit closer to our founder's dream of making the world into “an ocean of color.”

Ecstatically,

Melissa Xochitl (Communications), on behalf of The Precioso Veggera Foundation 

I stare dumbfounded at the letter for a long time before my brain even begins to start sparking out thoughts. Like an old, rusty machine, the gears begin screeching together, as I start to process it all.

I’m not sure I’m ready for this sort of thing. The first voice says.

At the same time, I think how happy it would make Kattar and his mother. Me, too honestly, or at least it should have.

If you had asked me 10 months ago I would have practically exploded with excitement at the chance to work with The Precioso Veggera Foundation. If you were to ask me 10 months from now, I’m sure I’d regret missing the chance. 

But do I really want to do it, just because I’m afraid I’ll regret saying no?

That’s what started the whole mess with Etan.

Only this time, I know this is what she wants. What she’s really truly always wanted. So why can’t she…?

I stand outside my body again, trying to light the fire, but none is burning. I just feel numb.

Small flames lick the edge of her consciousness with something like an artificial spark but they’re so dull and heatless it burns. Falling flat faster each time. Sinking lower with each attempt to feel something.

The world burns around me.

She stares at the paper until the words blur and the elephant in watercolor becomes the mask of some grotesque animal god. 

I know somewhere inside that I want this - but I don’t at the same time. And that’s what started this whole mess with Kattar.

It would be making it up to them, to Kattar and his mother, in a way - to prove that Kattar didn’t throw his life away for nothing. For me.

He’s still rooting for me, I know. He WANTS me to become famous.

I can do that for him.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and email the person listed at the bottom of the page, Juana King. 

5 seconds, ten seconds. There’s no error code. I almost wish there had been one. The message has gone through, and I try to breathe a little, crossing my fingers, not sure what I’m hoping for, but still hoping.

*

“And the Winner of the 25th Precioso Veggera Award for Artistic Expression goes to Alicia Palmero for her mixed-medium masterpiece “Damsel in the Red Dress.”

If I hadn’t won it wouldn’t have happened.

I wouldn’t have stayed for the ‘after party.’ I would have begged Kattar to take me home. Wouldn’t have even stayed at the hotel. The drunk driver would have passed by hours after we were already gone. It never would have happened.

If I hadn’t gone it never would have happened. If I’d stayed in my hole a little bit longer. Ignored the knocking when Kattar came to check on me. Told him to go away instead of letting him come find me. If I hadn’t let him drag me out of the house - if I hadn’t given him a key it never would have happened.

If we’d never met it never would have happened. If I hadn’t moved in with my aunt - if my mom hadn’t been sent to rehab. If my dad hadn’t left us - if my mother had put in the effort to remember - to try to be stable because she had a little girl to care for who was hurting just as much as she was with her daddy gone, and her brother gone and she needed her mother then more than ever - just tried a little bit - then it never. would have happened.

We never would have gone to the same school. We never would have talked for that first time, when we should have been paying attention in Spanish class because we both rolled our eyes at the teacher's mispronunciation of ‘Mexico.’ If we hadn’t shared our lunches, and then our weekends, and then our locker, and then the next 15 years of our lives it never would have happened.

I look back at the timetable like the play-through of a lost game of chess. There were so many moments - so many chances when the tables could have been turned - when things could have gone differently - shifted - changed courses, twisted the red thread and doubled back - ended somewhere other than here. 

I guess every game has even odds when it starts. Or maybe that’s only the case in a game of chess.

If we’d gone out for cake it never would have happened. If I’d let him - just one more time - try to drag me out of my slump instead of being sullen and content to simmer in it - if we’d gone out for dessert at some unholy hour - if I’d been sober enough to enjoy myself - or at least sober enough to want to - then we wouldn’t have been driving down that cursed frozen street, the drunk driver would have missed our car - and it never would have happened.

I could blame him.

But I don’t want to blame him because blaming him doesn’t help because he’s not here for me to hate and to yell at and to curse.

I’d rather blame myself.

It never should have happened.

It never would have happened. If I was stable. If I had been smarter. If I had tried harder, to fix things instead of letting them run their course into chaos. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to date Etan - If I had valued myself enough to break up with Etan instead of waiting until he dumped me - if I had just agreed to go to the award ceremony without making extra stipulations - if I hadn’t forced Kattar to come - if I hadn’t told him that I would only go to award ceremony if he went with me - then I would have died alone - and it never would have happened.