Chapter 24 Kira
KIRA
The Burrow Bitches
Macey: Is everyone working late today?
Kira: Yep. I’m still at the office.
Ariadne: I just left the madness at home to work on a few projects at a coffee shop.
Britney: i spend every night studying, so yeah
Macey: We are such a crazy group.
I had just enough time to stop by the Burrow Café before work this morning. Tugging my warm coat close to my chest, I waved at Britney from afar.
This time of day was always the busiest, with secretaries grabbing coffees before a team meeting, bosses snapping for their flat white, and everyday passersby hoping to stop in for a break from the hustle outside.
After patiently waiting my turn in line, Britney came over to take my order. “I’ll get started on your chai in a minute, Kira.” She quickly braided the hair that poured out of her ponytail. “We’re swamped today.”
“Actually,” I said, just as she turned away. “I think I want something different today.”
Britney froze mid-step, her expression shifting from focused to outright shock. “Different?”
I nodded.
“So…not a chai?”
“Nope.” I glanced at the menu. Crazy to think I’d worked in this building for two years and this was the first time I really read through it. “I’ll have a café con leche.”
If Britney hadn’t been so good at maintaining her cool barista composure, I was pretty sure she would’ve knocked over a whole shelf of mugs in disbelief.
“You want a café con leche.” She blinked like she hadn’t heard me right, then looked up toward the sky. “Is the apocalypse today? Are you okay? Is this some kind of dying wish?”
I laughed. “I’m fine. I just want to try something new.”
“New?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly baffled. “New isn’t in your vocabulary.”
“That’s offensive.”
She grinned sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. One café con leche, coming right up.”
A few minutes later, café con leche in hand, I walked into my cubicle. I took a sip of the warm, frothy drink. Huh. Who would’ve thought? Delicious.
The pale gray walls of my workspace framed my dual monitors, which hummed to life as I pressed the power button. A faint scent of cleaning spray lingered in the air, likely from the janitor’s late-night rounds, mixing with the ever-present smell of paper.
My cubicle was tidy but impersonal. A single framed photo of me and my friends sat beside a miniature succulent I’d watered twice since buying. My motivational calendar hung askew on the far wall, its bold text reading, Seize the day!
Something about it annoyed me now.
Sliding into my chair, I sighed softly. Everything about this place irked me today, a stark difference from how I normally felt about ordinary things. I used to love my boring, ordinary days, but now, they didn’t feel like enough.
Down the aisle of cubicles, my boss, Riley, strolled past. His loafers clacked softly on the industrial carpet. “Morning, Kira,” he said in his usual monotone, clutching a mug emblazoned with the company’s logo and an unreadable stack of papers.
“Good morning,” I replied, glancing up briefly before turning back to my screen. Riley kept moving, his shadow briefly spilling across my desk as he passed.
I opened the first file of the day, a claims dataset riddled with anomalies that I knew would take hours to untangle. Clicking through the row of numbers, I already felt the weight of the mundane settle on me.
Nine oh seven a.m. That was it?
How was a girl supposed to work a nine-to-five job, cook three meals a day, pursue creative activities, maintain decent mental health, date, and make a dent in the pile of books she wanted to read? We needed to add another five hours to the day.
My fingers danced across the keyboard as I tried to make sense of a particularly messy column in the dataset. The glow of the screen made my eyes feel heavy, but I powered through, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee for a caffeine boost.
Just as I began to fix the formatting, a soft ding alerted me to a new email. I was prepared for another system-wide memo or a mandatory ‘fun’ team-building activity notice, but I realized it was my personal email. The subject line from the Chicago Echo Studio read: Congratulations!
My heart jumped. A rush of warmth spilled through my chest, and I blinked, rereading the subject line to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. I clicked the email, my fingers trembling slightly.
Dear Kira,
We are thrilled to inform you that you have been selected for the Chicago Echo Studio residency! Your application stood out among hundreds of talented candidates…
I stopped reading, my eyes already welling up. My breath caught in my throat as a wave of joy surged through me. I gripped the edge of the desk, grounding myself against the bubbling urge to leap out of my chair and scream.
Instead, I glanced around. The office was as dull and indifferent as ever. Monica, my cubicle neighbor, was typing furiously, headphones on. Across the aisle, Greg was on a call, gesturing animatedly with one hand while holding his headset with the other. Nobody had noticed my moment of triumph.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, feeling my cheeks stretch into a wide, uncontrollable grin.
I did it. I actually did it.
I had to text the group chat. I had to call my mom. I needed to tell Landon. I needed to—
My computer dinged with a notification that a video call was about to start.
I needed to get back to work.
But after? Who knew.
The wind bit at my cheeks as I pulled my scarf higher over my nose, my breath forming small clouds that quickly vanished into the chilly night. My boots crunched over the uneven layer of salt and snow coating the sidewalk, the sound faintly rhythmic against the backdrop of the city’s noise.
The only warm thing in my hand was my phone, pressed tightly to my ear. “Mom, Dad, are you both there?”
“We’re here, Kira,” Dad replied, voice crackling faintly through the line. “What’s going on? You said it couldn’t wait.”
More like I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t keep the art residency news a secret any longer. Despite my mom’s complex feelings toward it, my parents needed to know.
Mom might not understand it, but this was going to be part of my life for the next year. I needed at the very least for her to respect my decisions. If she didn’t…well, I guess I would have to suck it up.
“I got into the Chicago Echo Studio art residency.”
There was silence on the line, and my stomach flipped nervously. The pause stretched just long enough for me to start second-guessing myself.
“Oh, little tree!” Dad finally said, his tone bright with excitement. “That’s incredible! Congratulations.”
Silence from Mom.
“When do you start?” Dad asked.
“On January 10,” I answered, pacing in place.
Mom finally spoke up. “And what of your job?”
“I haven’t told them yet. I’ll be putting in my two weeks soon. The residency is full time, so I can’t do both.”
“Paid?” she asked.
Of course she asked all the questions that pointed to this being a bad idea. But it wasn’t. I felt it in my soul.
I sighed, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. “No. I’ll use my savings while I’m in residency, and I’m hopeful I’ll get a full-time job in the art field after.” At the lack of response, I added, “I’ll get a part-time job if needed. Maybe I can tutor.”
Did the prospect of leaving a stable job to go do something crazy like an art residency scare me?
Yes. But it was even more terrifying to think about one day looking back and realizing I never went after my dreams. It was so easy to push your dreams back with an excuse: bad timing, lack of opportunity, being too busy.
If you never made the time for it, it was never going to happen.
“I’m sure it’ll all work itself out.”
I could almost see Dad patting Mom on the knee, the way he always did when she was stressed.
“It will,” I reassured them and myself.
I stopped under a streetlamp, my breath mingling with the soft glow of light bouncing off the snow.
It was dark outside. Normally, I wouldn’t walk alone so late, but I had to stay extra hours after work today, admittedly because I got no work done this morning, too busy freaking out over the acceptance.
“Are you happy?” Mom asked.
The answer was easy. “Yeah. I’m very happy.”
After a long pause, Mom’s voice came through again, this time softer than before. “You got in,” she said, almost to herself.
“I got in.” I wondered if she could hear the smile in my voice.
“I wasn’t sure about this at first. You know that. It felt so risky. But you went for it anyway, and now look at you. You proved not just to me but to yourself that you could do it.”
That was as close to approval as I was going to get. From Mom, it meant a lot. I continued my walk home, partly to keep my focus on my moving limbs and less so on the way my bottom lip quivered.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I know how much this means to you,” she said. “My way didn’t turn out the way we anticipated, so…let’s try it your way.”
“That’s the spirit!” Dad said.
I laughed, feeling a weight I didn’t realize I had fall off my chest. “I love you guys. I sent you some Christmas gifts in the mail, so don’t forget to check. And I’ll come to visit for New Year’s.”
They exchanged a few more words before saying goodbye. Slipping my phone into my purse, I glanced up at the darkened streets ahead. I was only a few blocks from Landon’s now, the faint outline of his apartment visible in the distance.
By the time I reached his apartment, excitement had butterflied in my stomach.
I fumbled with my keys, finding the spare he’d given me recently: Just in case, he had said when he pressed it into my palm.
I let myself in, stepping into the now-familiar scent of his apartment: a mix of freshly brewed coffee and the sandalwood candle I gave him.
“Picasso, is that you?” Landon called out.
I grinned, slipping off my shoes and setting my bag down by the door. “Yes!”
I found him stirring a pot of something that smelled like chili. He looked up and smiled when he saw me, his brown eyes lighting up beneath the messy fringe of his hair.
“How was work?” he asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
I walked straight over and hugged him, burying my face in his chest. I felt so secure in this position. I could stay here all day if he’d let me.
“That bad, huh?”
I pulled back, looking up at him. “Actually, no. It was a perfect day.”
Landon raised an eyebrow. “Perfect? At your office?”
“Close your eyes.”
His face grew playful as a smile appeared. “Is this a sex thing? Because I’m not opposed to—”
“Just do it.” I nudged him playfully.
With a skeptical chuckle, Landon obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the email, then held the screen up in front of him.
Honestly, it was impressive that I resisted the urge to call him every five minutes to tell him the news, but I thought it would be better to tell him in person.
“Okay, open them.”
Landon’s eyes flickered open and landed on the phone. It took him a second to process the bold subject line, but then his jaw dropped. “Holy shit. You got in?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes. I got in!”
His reaction was instant. He let out an excited yelp, grabbing me by the waist and spinning me in a circle. “You did it! Oh my God, Kira, you did it! And they got back to you so quickly. I bet they saw your application and had to let you in immediately.”
I laughed, holding on to his shoulders as he set me back down. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You convinced me to apply. You helped me with my portfolio. You stayed up late with me when I was second-guessing everything.”
“Stop.” Landon shook his head. “This was all you. You’re amazing. All I did was believe in you.”
I didn’t realize at the time how much I needed that. Someone to believe in me. To encourage me, to push me beyond my comfort zone. Because as cozy as it was inside my safe bubble, I didn’t know if I ever would have popped it without someone like Landon to push me.
“Well, your belief helped.”
Landon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “We’re celebrating tonight. Forget this chili. I’m ordering something fancy. And we’re opening the bottle of celebratory champagne I’ve been saving.”
“Saving?” I asked. “For how long?”
He reached into the top cabinet and pulled down a fancy bottle of champagne. “Since the day you decided to apply.”
Something pulled at my heartstrings. He popped open the bottle, poured two glasses, and handed me one. “To a future artist starting her new beginning.”
I clanked my glass against his. “I love you, Landon.”
“Not as much as I love you.”