Chapter Seven
The sun blazed down on the sea of caps and gowns, casting sharp shadows that crisscrossed the lawn of the Savannah College of Art and Design.
Charlotte adjusted her tassel, her eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face she knew wouldn’t be there.
She had held a flicker of hope that today, of all days, her mother might surprise her, as she’d learned of her SCAD scholarship not long after Charlotte left the night of her high school graduation.
But as the rows of folding chairs filled with proud families and friends, that hope dimmed to an all-too-familiar resignation, and honestly, she didn’t care. That was the past, and as Lynette was fond of saying, “The past is prologue.”
“Charlotte! Over here!” The enthusiastic shout pulled her gaze to the side, where Mr. and Mrs. Baker waved frantically.
Their presence was a balm to the sting of her mother’s absence, their smiles wide and genuine beneath the brims of their sun hats.
They had always believed in her, pushing her to pursue her artistic talents beyond the confines of their small store.
“Congratulations, dear,” Sally Baker said, pulling her into a warm embrace as soon as Charlotte stepped off the stage, diploma in hand. Mr. Baker offered a firm handshake that lingered, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “You’re going to do great things. I can feel it.”
“Thank you both for being here,” Charlotte murmured, clutching the diploma tightly as she had four years ago in Florida. Her gratitude for these wonderful people swelled in her chest, almost enough to eclipse the hollow spot where a family should have been.
As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Charlotte turned away from the chatter around her, taking a moment to reflect.
This was it—the end of one chapter and the precipice of something entirely new.
The weight of the decision lay heavy in her pocket; the job offer from World of Wildlife felt like a dare to leap into the unknown.
“New York City,” she whispered to herself, the words carrying the promise of skyscrapers and endless possibilities. It was a far cry from the scenic tranquility of Savannah, a stark contrast to the sleepy aisles of Photo Mart, where she’d first found her love for capturing moments through a lens.
“Have you decided which offer you’re going to accept?” Mr. Baker asked, interpreting her distant gaze correctly.
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m taking the job in New York. It’s time for a new adventure.”
“Brilliant!” Mrs. Baker exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight. “They won’t know what hit them.”
Their encouragement was the final nudge Charlotte needed.
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, ready to step into the role she’d been preparing for all these years.
New York City awaited, a canvas vast and vibrant for her to fill with the images she’d capture—a testament to the resilience and ambition that had carried her this far.
Charlotte stood on the cracked pavement, her gaze climbing the brick facade of the aging brownstone. A FOR RENT sign, weathered and slightly askew, hung in a second-story window. She clutched the strap of her camera bag, feeling both apprehensive and excited as she buzzed the intercom.
“Can I help you?” a voice crackled from the speaker.
“Hi, I’m here to see the apartment,” Charlotte replied, adjusting the baseball cap that shielded her eyes from the summer glare.
“Fourth floor,” the voice returned, followed by a buzz as the door unlocked.
The stairwell was narrow and dark, and the faint smell of waxed wood and decades past filled the space.
The echo of Charlotte’s footsteps was so startling that she tiptoed most of the way so as not to make too much noise.
When she reached the fourth floor, the door to apartment 4-B was ajar, inviting her in.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, caressing the hardwood floors and casting geometric patterns across the walls.
It wasn’t large, but it had character—the perfect blank slate for a new beginning.
“Are you Charlotte?” A woman in her mid-fifties emerged from what appeared to be a small kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her smile was warm, despite the formality of her business attire.
“Yes, I am.” Charlotte extended her hand, which the landlord shook firmly.
“Welcome. Let me show you around.” The landlord’s enthusiasm was infectious as she pointed out the vintage moldings and the view of the park from the fire escape—a makeshift balcony, she joked.
As Charlotte toured the space, she could already picture where her framed photographs would go, the spots where her potted plants would bask in the sunlight, and the corner that would become her makeshift studio.
There was a hum in the air, an energy that whispered promises of inspiration and creativity.
“Will you take it?” the landlord asked after explaining the terms of the lease.
Charlotte didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said, a decisive nod accompanying her answer. “I’ll take it.”
Later, with the ink drying on the lease and the keys jingling in her pocket, Charlotte stood alone amidst cardboard boxes and suitcases that held her life.
She unpacked methodically, placing her lenses and cameras on a sturdy built-in shelf, aligning her books with care, and spreading her duvet—patterned with vibrant wildlife photography—across the bed.
Night had fallen by the time she returned the moving truck to U-Haul.
It was only a short walk back to her apartment.
As she made her way toward her building, the city’s pulse thrummed through her.
When she learned how to navigate the subway system, she’d take in as many sights as time allowed.
Once inside her apartment, she perched on the sill of an open window, a steaming mug of tea cradled between her palms, peering out at the constellation of lights and shadows that New York City offered up to her hungry lens.
“Here’s to new adventures,” she toasted quietly, taking in the scene before her. This apartment, with its creaks and quirks, was now her anchor in the vast, electric ocean of the city. And tomorrow, she’d set sail.