Page 65 of Never Tell Secrets

“I’m aware of that.”

“So, if you want to adjust my pay accordingly…”

“I don’t, but I appreciate the offer.” She turned back to her work. I hovered, watching her.

“You don’t really need an assistant, do you?”

She sighed before putting her pencil down and facing me. “I like having one and I presume you like having a job that will look good on your resume and allows you the flexibility to plan your project, no?”

“No…I mean, yes.”

“Good. Work enough hours to complete the tasks I set for you, besides that, focus on your project. I have expectations of you. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Thank you, I?—”

She waved me off before I could finish.“From the sighs of frustration you give out everyday I’m guessing that your plans are not going well.”

“No, I have some kind of block.”

“Show me what you have so far.”

I wanted to argue, I was embarrassed to show this accomplished woman my measly designs, but of course I returned dutifully to my desk and retrieved my sketchbook.

“I don’t have much. Just ideas, nothing solid.” I bit my thumbnail as she flipped through my designs. “What do you think?”

“I think they would be very impressive pieces for someone else.” She snapped the sketchbook shut and slid it across the desk to me, “I think you can do better. Make a statement. Make it exquisite. Make it memorable.”

“I’m trying. I keep going over the brief, which plants could work and then?—”

“You’re coming at it from the wrong angle,” she cut me off again, sitting back in her chair she took a sip of her chamomile tea. “You need the concept first. The vision. Then make the brief and the plants work foryou. You already know how to do this, Lola. What's the first thing I taught you about designing a statement piece?”

“Ask yourself what you want to say most, then create the vessel to act as your voice.”

“Exactly. I made the polar bear exhibit because I was angry about what we do to the environment. I still am. But it gives me comfort that everyday people see my message and maybe it makes some difference. I think your problem is that whatever you want to say the most, you’re too scared to say out loud and until you get past that, this,” she tapped my sketchbook, “is going to be meaningless.”

I wrapped my arms around my torso, one hand going to my mum’s necklace. Alfie. Alfie was my block and somewhere inside, I’d already known that. “What if I can’t get past it?”

“You have no choice. If you want this to mean something, you will have to confront your fear of speaking your truth.” She took another sip of her tea and shrugged. “Or don’t.” She waved a pretty hand at me. “Make a nice sculpture instead. Something lovely but forgettable. It’s up to you. But remember this: whatyou make, it doesn’t have to be a compliment. It just has to be true.”

Imani’s words unlocked something inside me. It was as if she’d given me permission to express something I’d felt the need to hide. Feeling more confident, I packed up my things and walked out the door.

Over the last few years, the Arboretum at Kew Gardens had become one of my favourite places in the world. The botanical tree garden was a stunning sight and home to a giant Redwood, which I'd discovered during my second semester was one of the best places for me to create. I got myself situated with a coffee and my sketchbook but before I could let my imagination roam my phone rang, the caller ID switching me to high alert.

“Hi, Alfie.” I released my breath, determined as always to stay calm.

“Lola, I don’t have much time but I wanted to invite you to spend Saturday evening with me.”

I paused–was this a good idea? “To do what exactly?” My words were smothered by a strange sound from Alfie’s end of the call. “What's that noise?” I asked as the gentle whirring in the background grew louder.

“Helicopter. I’ll be gone for a few days, returning Saturday afternoon. I’m making arrangements for the evening and I’m hoping that you’ll join me.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“If you’re asking if I’ll blow your house down if you don’t agree to come, the answer is no.” He did his best to sound calm but I could hear the frustration in his voice. Whether that frustration was with himself for causing my distrust or with me for reminding him of it, I didn’t know.

“Where do you want to take me?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.” Should I say yes? Probably not. But, I’d promised him three months and I didn’t intend to back out of that deal.