When fall semester of Cedar’s senior year started, so did their quarter-life crisis that they decided they would deal with after they made it through literature class. Thankfully, Cedar’s loud worries that bounced around in their head were smothered by the voices of their peers in the lecture hall. Glancing around the room, Cedar spotted some of their friends who were already sitting close together. They made their way over to the empty seat right next to Amelie, who had been in every single one of Cedar’s math classes since freshman year.
“Hi guys!” Cedar greeted with a wide smile, prompting all their friends to look over at them and exclaim in delight.
As Cedar and their friends started talking about their senior year courses, the professor clapped his hands together loudly, drawing everybody’s attention. He leaned against his desk and adjusted his wire-framed glasses as he declared, “Welcome to Literature and Philosophy class. I’m Professor Hunt, and I’m going to go over what you can expect from this class.”
Out of all the professors who taught Cedar, Professor Hunt seemed like he was going to be the most impartial teacher. With his dull brown suit and complete lack of enthusiasm, he ran through the expectations of the course like a robot carrying out programmed actions. Despite the professor’s monotone voice, something was fascinating about Professor Hunt’s aloofness, and Cedar noted that all their friends were paying rapt attention to the professor discussing the class’s first assignment, reading The Odyssey by Homer.
Cedar half-heartedly listened to the professor talk as they doodled in their notebook with their dark blue pen. The professor’s drawl wasn’t enough to help them ward off their intrusive thoughts that had been living in Cedar’s brain ever since they realized that they’re a senior and, holy fuck, there wasn’t much time before they had to decide what they were going to do with their life. Instead of working at internships as all their other friends did, they had wasted their summer traveling around Europe and visiting art museums.
Maybe I can be a professor, like Professor McLecture here, Cedar thought as they glanced up from their notebook to watch the professor uninterestedly write on the chalkboard with a piece of blue chalk. They scrunched their nose at the thought of spending day after day cooped up in a lecture hall with a bunch of 20-something-year-olds and shook their head. Nope, I’m not going to do that to myself. Well, at least now I know what I’m not going to do.
The question of what Cedar would do with their life clung onto them like a dandelion seed sticking to wool. As literature class ended, and as they walked across the campus and waved at their friends who were walking to their classes, Cedar was still wondering what on Earth they could do with their degree in art when they could barely make enough money selling their art pieces and doing commissions as a part-time job.
Cedar managed to wrangle their quarter-life crisis under control when they walked into the Bears & Beans cafe, the best coffee shop next to the college campus. When Cedar first walked past the coffee shop, they thought it had the tackiest name ever. Who in California, let alone LA, would want to build a brand on the state’s iconic bear, anyway?
But on a cold winter morning (and by cold, Cedar meant 40 degrees Fahrenheit because people in California weren’t ever used to anything colder than 50 degrees), Cedar walked past the coffee shop and paused. They felt an incredible amount of warmth radiating from inside the coffee shop, smelled the comforting scent of freshly ground coffee, and decided to step in. Since that day, Cedar hadn’t had coffee from anywhere else.
As Cedar walked into Bears & Beans, they were met with cheery cries of “Cedar!” as the people on shift recognized them. Cedar grinned joyfully as they waved at the baristas and walked up to the cash register. “Hi, Chandler! Working register today?”
“Yep. I was going to work as a barista today but I forgot all the recipes over summer break and I accidentally messed up a customer’s order. She happened to be a Karen and demanded to speak to the manager. So, now I gotta work register for the rest of this week,” Chandler grimaced, tightening the brown apron tied around his torso.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll remember them in no time,” Cedar reassured. They were surprised at how exuberant they sounded even though the thought “I’m never going to get anywhere with my life” had been weighing them down all day.
Chandler’s frown melted as Chendaler appreciatively replied, “Thanks! Now, what can I get you? The usual?”
“Yes, the usual coffee and croissant please.” Cedar drummed their fingers against the countertop as they peered around the coffee shop. Nothing had changed since the last time they came; the framed posters of Star Wars movies were still hung up above the chairs, and the cone-shaped lights that dimly lit the shop still hung from the wooden ceiling. At least there’s some source of certainty in my life.
As Chandler entered the order into the tablet attached to the top of the cash register, he informed in a low voice, “Don’t tell my manager, but coffee’ll be on the house today as a little welcome-back-to-fall semester treat.”
“Aw, Chandler, you’re so sweet.” Glancing at the register and the $3.50 total, Cedar pulled out their wallet, flipping past a couple of small bills and handing Chandler a $10 bill. “Keep the change.”
“Oh my god, Cedar. Thank you so much! This’ll help me pay for one of the hundred new textbooks I have to buy for class.” Chandler dropped the change into the tip jar before walking to the display of pastries and putting a croissant into a small bag.
At least your parents are still willing to help you financially… covering your textbooks and housing so you don’t have to work, Cedar thought to themselves bitterly. If you don’t figure out what you want to do with your life by the end of senior year, you could just live with your parents for a year or maybe forever.
After Cedar took the croissant, they stood by the pick-up counter and talked with Maeby, the barista who’d been working at the coffee shop since the first day Cedar walked in, as they waited for their order to be completed. Maeby cheerily chatted about how she had just moved into an apartment with her boyfriend and took her sweet time making Cedar’s coffee so she could go into detail about how she and her boyfriend had decorated their apartment with a nautical theme. Frankly, Cedar didn’t need to know about the decorative lifejackets hanging in the living room of Maeby’s apartment, but they nodded and smiled, patiently waiting for Maeby to hand them their coffee.
Once Maeby finally handed Cedar their coffee, Cedar waved to everybody in the coffee shop and offered an “It was really nice to see you all again!” before they walked down the street, one hand holding the cup of coffee and the other holding the bag with the croissant. Cars whooshed past them loudly but Cedar hummed to themselves as they continued down the sidewalk and reached the art museum, or, as Cedar liked to call it, their other college.
From the few students sitting on the steps just outside the entrance, Cedar could already tell that the museum was mostly empty like it usually was during school days. They didn’t mind, though. It was nice to feel like they had the entire place to themselves. When it was just Cedar (and maybe two or three other people) in the museum, it felt like they were in an undiscovered cave of diamonds to themselves and could admire the diamonds all they wanted to without worrying about anybody else doing so.
At the entrance of the museum was the museum’s head security guard, Joel. As Cedar walked up the steps, they held up the bag with the croissant and grinned, “Joel! Long time no see.”
Brightening, Joel opened the door to the entrance. “Cedar, welcome back! There’s a new exhibit I think you’d be really interested in seeing.”
“Really? I’d love to,” Cedar stepped into the museum and handed Joel the bag with the croissant. Technically, food and drinks weren’t allowed in the museum but Joel made an exception for Cedar because they brought him croissants (or jelly doughnuts if Bears & Beans ran out of croissants) every time they came to the museum.
“Follow me.” Joel walked into the museum and took out the croissant, gleefully taking bites out of it as he led Cedar down the hall. As he worked on finishing the croissant, Joel informed, “It’s an exhibit of all the paintings of flowers that Van Gogh has done. Now, obviously, it’s not the real thing because we’re a small museum and we can’t have the real thing here, but the replicas are pretty damn impressive.”
The two reached the exhibit, which was in a room in the corner of the museum, and as Cedar stepped into the room, they gasped in awe at the paintings on the walls of the room. The paintings of the flowers were so vivid that Cedar was certain that they would smell floral scents instead of the scent of paint if they stuck their nose near the paintings. Cedar breathlessly twirled around, trying to take all the paintings in at once. “I love it.”
“I figured. Enjoy! Oh, and thank you for the croissant.” Joel held up the croissant and turned around on his heel to leave Cedar alone to enjoy the magnificent exhibit by themselves. He trusted Cedar and knew that they would prefer to enjoy admiring artwork without anybody watching them.
With so many paintings to choose from, Cedar could hardly decide where to start. It took about ten minutes of wandering around the exhibit and muttering to themselves to decide on the painting they would start with: Poppy Flowers, painted in 1887.
Sitting down on a mahogany bench (one of many in the room), Cedar slipped their messenger bag off their shoulder and took out their trusty sketchbook, which was barely being held together by its worn binding, along with their pencil pouch of colored pencils. They first used a regular pencil to sketch the outlines of the bright yellow and brilliant red poppy flowers in the paintings and listened to the soothing scratching sound of their pencil gliding across the paper.
Little did Cedar know that as they were calmly sketching, they had an audience. At the entrance to the exhibit’s room stood a woman wearing a black suit and a white blouse. A pair of black sunglasses sat perched atop her head, and her red hair that she wore in a low ponytail stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her outfit.
Frankly, Lorena didn’t know why she was at an art museum either. She was in-between missions and waiting for a new assignment about what to steal next, so she found herself wandering the streets of L.A. until she stumbled upon this quaint little art museum. Sadly, it didn’t have as many expensive items as she thought since almost all the paintings were replicas. She had aimlessly walked around the museum until Cedar caught her eye.
Surprisingly, her stilettos didn’t make an audible clicking noise as she slowly moved closer to the entrance. Placing one hand on the door, Lorena pressed her body against the wall and observed as Cedar picked up their pencil pouch and selected a yellow colored pencil.
Something about Cedar fascinated Lorena. She had never seen anybody who had been so concentrated and quietly passionate about art, and Lorena was overwhelmed by the want for Cedar to look at her the way they admired art. The logical part of Lorena’s brain scolded her, reminding her, You can’t get attached now. You’ll have work to do, and you’ll have to leave this person.
But Lorena ignored her logic and continued to stare at Cedar. She was considering walking into the exhibit and sitting down next to Cedar just to get a closer look and absorb the full splendor of this artist, but she heard footsteps down the hall, quickly pulled her fedora lower over her face, and left.
When Lorena returned the next day, she was delighted to find that Cedar was sitting at the same spot, drawing again. By the time Lorena had arrived at the exhibit entrance, Cedar was holding up their completed artwork and smiling at their creation, and, God as her witness, Lorena had never lost their breath until that moment when she witnessed the radiance of Cedar’s smile. Lorena thought to herself, I need to do something to get their attention.
And that’s exactly what she did.
