On an Edge of Glass

outline of Ainsley’s lovely face.  I’ve captured my friend in profile—head bent, backlit by the sun, wisps of blonde hair floating over the bridge of her nose. 
    Next, with her neck held at an awkward angle, Michaela looks at the photo I took the night of my first date with Ben.  It’s the largest of the grouping.  He’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom with his hands crossed over his chest.  His head is tipped forward.  His smile is thin, enigmatic.  Even like this—stilled on paper—his eyes are so full of passion that they crack me in half. 
    “This boy,” Michaela says, her index finger pointed at the photograph.  “He’s the same as in these other two.”
    “Yes,” I say and shift my weight, hoping that my voice doesn’t give me away.
    Michaela looks up.  Her large eyes drill into me.  Finally she asks, “Do you have a title for the collection yet?”
    I clear my throat.  “I do.”
    Her eyebrows lift in expectation.
    “Starstuff,” I say.
    “Hmmm…”  She turns back to the photos on her desk.  “This is a large grouping of photos.  Mostly, I’ve been choosing one or two to pull and use for the exhibit.”
    “But, they go together.  As a collection, this is a story.  Apart you don’t really get that, do you?”  I cringe a t how pompous I sound even to my own ears. 
    Michaela ’s eyes crinkle.  She shakes her head.  “No you don’t.”  She pauses, touches another photo.  “Are you a student?  I don’t recognize you from any of my classes.”
    “ Yes, I’m a student.  I’ll be graduating this May.”
    “ And your major?”
    “Pre -law,” I say, biting the inside of my lip.
    Laughter burbles out of her.  “I didn’t see that one coming.”  She looks at the photos one more time, then sideways at me.  “I’ll be in touch soon Ms. Glass.”
    That’s my cue.  I thank Michaela and cross to the door.  Her voice stops me. 
    “Do you mind if I ask what inspired you?”  She asks.
    I think about it.  I let the be ats settle inside of me.  They make up one word: “Love.”
     
     
    “What do you think the odds are?”  Ainsley asks.  She’s got her feet propped on the low coffee table so that Mark can paint her toenails. 
                  I shake my head lightly.  “I’m not sure.  It’s not like I had a chance to look over any other submissions.  Michaela just said that she’d ‘be in touch soon,’ whatever that means.”
                  “Well…”  Mark pauses and wipes away excess lavender nail polish from Ainsley’s big toe with his thumb.  “The exhibit is a week from Saturday so I assume you’ll hear from her one way or the other in the next day or two.”
                  “Yeah, probably.”  I let my head fall against the couch. 
                  Ainsley grabs my wrist.  “Hey!  Even if your photos don’t get chosen, at least you tried, right?”
                  “And that’s more than a lot of bitches can say,” Payton adds, grabbing hold of my other wrist.
                  I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be pleased or offended.  I laugh.  “Umm… Thanks?”
                  The University Symphony has out of town performances tonight and tomorrow in Richmond, so it’s just Mark and us girls here at the house.  Mark asked us what we wanted to do and Payton held up her chipped nails and suggested manicures all around.  Ainsley is being a daredevil with her choice of lavender nail polish.  Payton’s pulling no punches with midnight blue and a topcoat of bright pink glitter.  And I’ve picked out a subdued shade of grey.
                  “Grey?”  Mark looks appalled when I pass him the small bottle.  “Why do you even have grey nail polish?”
                  “It’s not that bad,” Payton defends.  “I think that I bought to go with some outfit.”
                  “Were you dressed as a hobo?  Because otherwise, I think there are like five hundred thousand other colors that are more suitable.”
                  “Dude,” Payton says dryly and then glances back to the text she’s typing out on her phone. 
                  Mark looks at me.  “I’m just saying that I think you should pick a shade that’s more fun.”  He picks up a bottle of neon pink polish.  “Like maybe this color.”  When I lift one side of my mouth up