My December calendar grows fuller each day. Yesterday was my last day in my student-teaching placement. With my mentor’s approval, I planned fun educational games to play with cheap pencils, erasers, and candy for rewards—the students loved it. I left the building at the end of the day with an armload of gifts and cards. The math teacher, social studies teacher, and administrator I worked closely with surprised me by each handing me a reference letter to use as I apply for positions. It was both a sad and exciting end to my college studies. My graduation the fifteenth is quickly approaching.
This morning, I received a call for an interview on December 17th for a long-term substitute teacher position open in January. I’m glad my many resume and application submissions are starting to reap interviews just as Hamilton predicted. My goal is for a teaching position instead of that of a temporary substitute. Alma and I celebrated my first interview call by taking Liberty out to lunch with us.
Back home now, Liberty crawls across the living room, clutches tightly to the legs of my yoga pants, and pulls herself up to stand in front of me. “Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma,” she greets.
“Hey, baby girl.” I close then set my laptop aside before lifting her into my lap.
“Me-me-me,” she babbles as slobber escapes both corners of her mouth.
She calls me ma-ma, Alma is la-la, and McGee is me-me. At nine months, she’s really starting to express herself and navigate into all sorts of places she shouldn’t. As Christmas draws near, I am anxious to see her imitate Alma’s grandchildren in opening gifts and playing with new toys. It should be a fun Christmas followed by her approaching first birthday.
“McGee is outside going potty,” I reply to her inquiry of where her friend me-me is. “Want to go let him in?” Liberty lifts her arms signaling she wants to go. When we enter the kitchen, she calls me-me as we approach the backdoor. McGee raises his head from his large bone in the middle of the yard when we open the door. Libby again babbles me-me, and her friend runs toward us.
I kneel once we close the door to offer McGee some love. Still calling his name, Libby pats both hands upon me-me’s back. I sit her on the tile floor while I grab a treat from the pantry. Aware of what I have, McGee sits a few feet from Liberty. I pry Libby’s fingers open and lay the small treat in her palm. I help her extend her open hand. McGee ever patient remains seated.
“McGee come,” I firmly state. He slowly approaches and careful not to hurt Liberty, takes the treat.
Libby squeals with glee and her legs flail on the tile floor. She loves licks from her puppy. We recently began assisting Liberty in sharing treats. Both Libby and McGee love this new trick. I decide to repeat it and set up my phone camera on a nearby chair to record it this time. McGee only gets one treat when he comes in. His ears perk up and he resumes a sitting position at the sound of me in his treat jar. Liberty opens her hand on her own this time. I still assist in extending the treat and I tell McGee to come. Liberty squeals before McGee even snags the treat this time.
I probably record too many common everyday items in my attempt to compile a video journal for Hamilton. In my keeping him from this part of Liberty’s life, I attempt to record everything I can. Last week I purchased an external hard-drive and moved my video journal files onto it. I past the free space in the cloud I used in November. I don’t want to risk my laptop as the only location of these important clips. Between the cloud and Dropbox, I have one copy saved online and now a hard-drive for another copy that I can pass along to Hamilton this off-season.
The only week Hamilton and I have free in December is the week before the wedding and now I have an interview that Monday in Columbia. I’m supposed to be in Athens that Friday for the bachelorette party. That gives me Tuesday-Thursday to tell him everything. Alma and I discussed it today. I now worry if his reaction is not as I hope, we might ruin the wedding weekend for our friends. I’m trying to decide if this is just another excuse I am creating to keep from having this difficult conversation with Hamilton or if I should wait until after the wedding.
I sit Liberty in her highchair, placing a small handful of her favorite cereal on her tray. Glancing at the wall clock, I note Alma should be home from her hair appointment soon. My cell phone rings in the living room. I ensure Libby is buckled safely in her seat before I quickly fetch the ringing phone and return to the kitchen. McGee lies protectively on the floor near the high chair.
I quickly listen to the voicemail message from an unknown number. It’s Cameron calling from her work line, so I redial.
“Hi there,” she greets. “Have a minute to chat?”
“Yep, sorry I didn’t answer. I had to make sure Liberty was safe in the high chair, your mom is at the salon, and my cell phone was in the living room.” I’m out of breath.
“I pitched your two books this morning,” Cameron begins. Her pause worries me. “D.C. Bland Publishing will be contacting you in the next 24 hours to let you know they want you as their new author-of-the-year. This is our parent company—that’s the big publishing house. They only take on one new author per year and they’ve chosen you.”
My head spins. “Seriously?”
“I told you to be ready,” she proudly reminds me of our Thanksgiving discussion. “When they call they will set up meetings and travel for you to Dallas so be ready for that.”
“You just pitched, and they said yes?”
“No, they received a copy of the manuscripts two days ago. Several staff members read, take notes, and pass them to the next person. So, when I pitched at the meeting, they were already in love with your stories.” Cameron speaks to someone on her end before returning to our phone conversation. “When I began my pitch, they interrupted asking for more information about you, the author, and not the stories they already loved. I told them you lived with my mother, were soon to graduate from the University of Missouri with a degree in education, were from the small town of Athens, MO, and were only twenty-years-old. I figure anything else is your story to tell.”
“They asked to see your manuscript with my first edit notes. They were extremely impressed with the level of writing prior to the first edit. Honey, they are in love with your work. Prepare for much flattery when they contact and meet with you.” I can hear Cameron sip from a beverage. “And best of all, they’ve appointed me as your editor. This means I will be at all meetings and we will get to work closely together. I can even have Bland Publishing pay for my trips to see you at mom’s. How cool is that?”
I think Cameron is more excited than I am. In my wildest imagination I didn’t see this coming, even with Cameron telling me it probably would. We chat for a bit and she makes me promise to call her once they officially call me.
I sit stunned at the kitchen table when Alma returns home. McGee barks and runs to the front door to greet her. I am just coming out of my trance when she enters the kitchen.
“La-la-la,” Liberty greets Alma.
Alma looks at me concerned. I fill her in on the call I just received from Cameron. As her excitement builds, my shock wears off, and the reality of the information Cameron shared begins to set in.