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  &quot;There&quot;s a problem with your writing,&quot; Ms. Tamayo informs me, looking up from the computer in her office. It&quot;s quiet at Vanier since exams finished yesterday. Only a handful of students staying for the holidays remain, plus a number of the faculty. &quot;What&quot;s that?&quot; I ask. &quot;It&quot;s better than any other student&quot;s I&quot;ve seen. These lyrics you wrote are meaningful and specific.&quot; My shoulders relax. I didn&quot;t realize how much tension I was holding until she said those words. &quot;Thank you.&quot; &quot;I&quot;d like you to help me finish the book for this show. It doesn&quot;t pay much, but it&quot;s a good learning experience. And you should consider auditioning, at the right time.&quot; Excitement surges through me. &quot;I&q

  Two and a Half Years Later     &quot;Why is it always prodigal sons and never prodigal daughters?&quot; Andie&quot;s voice comes over the phone as I shift into the limo outside the terminal at DFW. &quot;Maybe women are smart enough not to go back.&quot; &quot;Or they didn&quot;t leave it so long in the first place.&quot; As the car pulls away, I slide my sunglasses up my nose. &quot;Going home might be the worst idea you&quot;ve had since becoming my roommate.&quot; &quot;It wasn&quot;t my idea. Haley invited you on behalf of her and your dad. I just played the dead dad card and reminded you that it sucks not to have a dad in the first place.&quot; &quot;You&quot;re right. And I&quot;ll be back in New York first thing Monday. You won&quot;t even notice I&quot;m gone,&quot; I say as we wind our way through the mass of ramps and overpasses. &quot;Well, someone noticed. He&quot;s been kn

  &quot;Tell me why you want this job busting your ass for people who couldn&quot;t care less if you were born unless you forget the refill on their Pellegrino.&quot; Jacob&quot;s rapid-fire question has me leaning across the kitchen table in his and Timothy&quot;s apartment. The first of my two final exams isn&quot;t until tomorrow, but already, I feel as if I&quot;m being grilled. &quot;Because I need money to pay next semester&quot;s tuition and living expenses and my rock star dad cut me off for failing to tell him I was at performing arts school.&quot; He cocks his head. &quot;Cute. One more time.&quot; I square my shoulders. &quot;Because I&quot;m a hard worker, I don&quot;t give up, and I&quot;ll wait whichever tables you tell me to for as many hours as you want.&quot; &quot;Good.&quot; Jacob rises from his chair and goes to the fridge, where he pulls out two Coke cans and hands m

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  &quot;There&quot;s a problem with your writing,&quot; Ms. Tamayo informs me, looking up from the computer in her office. It&quot;s quiet at Vanier since exams finished yesterday. Only a handful of students staying for the holidays remain, plus a number of the faculty. &quot;What&quot;s that?&quot; I ask. &quot;It&quot;s better than any other student&quot;s I&quot;ve seen. These lyrics you wrote are meaningful and specific.&quot; My shoulders relax. I didn&quot;t realize how much tension I was holding until she said those words. &quot;Thank you.&quot; &quot;I&quot;d like you to help me finish the book for this show. It doesn&quot;t pay much, but it&quot;s a good learning experience. And you should consider auditioning, at the right time.&quot; Excitement surges through me. &quot;I&quot;d love to.&quot; I could be in an off-Broadway show. One I helped write. &quot;But,&quot; she g

CHAPTER 44