Chapter 1
One of my first memories is being in preschool, some random preschool in a church basement in Lower East Side Manhattan, and playing dolls with two other girls…well, I thought I was playing with them, but I guess really I was just lining the dolls up in rows, according to some order that only made sense in my head.
“Angelia!” One of the girls screamed. “You’re not playing it right!”
“I’m not?”
The teacher ran over. When she saw my row of dolls, sh e went like “yeah,” let out a big sigh and called my mom, for some reason. Then, I started having constant appointments with child psychologists. I hated having to leave school at snack time and get checked into a scary-looking office, just to talk about thy i envisioned the dills in a certain order, and why i didn’t make eye contact with the other girls and stuff like that.
Over chocolate milkshakes one day, i confessed how I was feeling to my mom, and she said “honey, you’ve been granted the hand you’ve been granted. What matters is that you choose to handle it the way you see fit.”
And, oddly enough, she also said that day I got accepted into the Columbia University screenwriting MFA program.
“Mom,I don’t have to go. I just felt the need to apply. It’s not like I have my heart set on it or anything. It will probably be too hard for me.”
“What are you talking about? No daughter of mine is allowed to pass up an Ivy League degree! You better get you ass enrolled right this second!”
So I did what she said. I was a jaded city girl, for the most part, but I certainly wasn’t certain what went on in Ivy League hallways.
Chapter 2
Then, a couple weeks later, my mom and I go to this admitted student lunchen. She has this annoying, buzzy energy. I don;t really feel like talking to anyone. My mom’s complaining about the dining hall not looking good for a date night, and I don;t have the energy to tell her that no one ever goes on dates on-campus anymore, so I just stare into my broccoli dish. “Angelia! Why aren’t you saying anything?” She barks at me.
“Nothing, mom. I’m just reflecting.”
“What’s there to reflect about?! I thought you wanted to be here.”
“I do! I just need a moment to think about how I’m going to manage it.”
“Sweetie, you’re only going to be, like, a hundred blocks away from me. That’s much closer than your undergrad.”
I snorted. “Yeeeeah. I think a hundred blocks might be harder for you to handle than out-of-state.”
“Why would you think such a thing?! I am always completely respectful of your boundaries!@
“Okay, mom. Whatever you want to think.”
Then, a noticed a guy my age watching me. In-oh. Did I sound like a crazy person? I worried, my checks flushing.
He grinned. “Hey there. I’m Robbie.”
“Hi. Angelia.”
“Are you also in the film program?”
“I’m in the screenwriting program.”
“Oh. Then we might see each other quite a bit, right?”
“That’s wonderful!” My mom cut in. “Angelia might need a bit of help making friends. I’m so happy we found you.”
“No, mom,” I said, shooting her a glare. “I’m going to make friends just the same way as everyone else.”
“That’s what I said, sweetie. Why don’t you guys exchange numbers now just in case you need anything when school starts?”
My cheeks were flaming, but we exchanged numbers anyway.
Chapter 3
On move-in day, my mom helped me carry my boxes into the Columbia dorms. Her clogs were making noises, and it was, like, the only thing I could hear.
“Angelia. Angelia. Are you with me?”
“Yes, I’m right here.”
“Why have you been so irritated with me? I don’t get why I did wrong.”
“I just want you to trust me.”
“I do! Why would I pay for this if I didn’t trust you?”
I shrugged, my breath catching in my throat. “I don’t know. It seems like…like you’re waiting for me to fail. Like you want this to turn into a funny story ‘special-needs kid tries to get an Ivy League mfa.,”
“Angelia! I do not see you as a special-needs kid! I see you as a wonderful screenwriter who worked very hard to get here. Why would I see you any other way?”
“I don’t know, mom. That’s just the way it feels.”
“I assure you you are 100% making yourself feel that way. I do not see you as anything else but an Ivy League-level screenwriter. Is there anything I can do to prove it?”
“You could…let me be alone here.” I cringed. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just need a few days to get settled in.”
She kissed my cheek. “Of course I’ll give you a few days. And then serendipity’s this weekend, please, please?”
“You bet, mom.”
Chapter 4
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my mom calling me to check if I’d packed enough lingerie.
“Mom! Why do you event care how much lingerie I have?”
“I’m just making sure, honey.”
“Why? What difference could the amount of lingerie I have possibly make?”
“Honey, you know lingerie makes it easier to hook up with someone.”
“I’m here to write screenplays, not to hook up with anyone! And why would I want to talk about it with my mom?”
“Do you have anyone else to discuss it with, Angelia?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Angelia. I don’t care what you say. I’m going to get some things from Victoria’s Secret, and bring them to your from room.”
I cringed. “Just make sure no one sees, okay?”
“Okay, ma’am!”
Chapter 5
After my mom snuck the Victoria’s Secret sets underneath my door, I got myself to class. Actually, I left my purse in the classroom then went to get more coffee. Coffee was the only thing that gave me any confidence in my skills.
Guess who
Woman Risen 