CHANTELLE SHOULD HAVE SLEPT MORE. She yawned as she played with the rim of her coffee cup, seated at one of the outside tables of the coffee shop she was asked to meet at, sighing softly at the off-name hipster monstrosity where all the staff and patrons were at least a decade younger than herself, if not more. They gave her a strange look, but after stating her name she was met with nothing but wide stares and surrounded by whispers.
That was always something she found strange, the idea that people knew her name. Of course, it was a very niche community, but with her crossing over from gallery art to more mainstream storyboarding and concept design, there were now two communities she found herself being recognized by, some preferring only her gallery work and turning their nose at her current profession, and others only knowing her for her storyboards and fanart. She was fine with either, but it warmed her heart to no end when she found someone who respected her for both.
She felt a tap on her shoulder, glancing around to find a woman smiling at her, giving her a small wave before raising an eyebrow, spelling out her last name, "S-E-T-H-I?"
Chantelle smiled and nodded, beginning to sign as the woman took a seat before a hand was raised, the woman giving her an apologetic smile as she signed, "I am mute, not deaf. You can speak, but I will need to sign. You can sign if you want."
"Okay," Chantelle signed, smiling. Still capable of vocalizing, she had no trouble doing so, especially having grown up being forced to in order to get through school and family life, but she felt more secure while signing, so, when the opportunity arose she always preferred to sign.
"Thank you for acknowledging the offer, I know you're very set in your retreat from the gallery scene," Eliza signed, taking a moment to drink from her coffee cup, "Is there any way I can convince you to be a part of this?"
Chantelle smiled as she replied, "Usually, I have to convince galleries to keep me when I apply to them. I would like to know what you are expecting and what you are willing to pay."
Eliza nodded in understanding and reached into her bag, handing over a well manicured folder filled with a fine gloss paper, separated into sections and clipped with neat, no-nonsense black binder clips, but the folder itself was still rather flat.
"Sorry," Eliza signed, ducking her head in embarrassment, "It's easier to give out paper, if possible, we have this in braille and audio, as well, though I am more than happy to fully explain if you can't focus on text, though I find it more efficient and comprehensive this way."
Chantelle smiled and set the folder aside. "It's perfectly fine, no worries. Just to summarize, what would you say you wanted to see from me?"
"What we look for from all the artists," Eliza began, "Are pieces meant to raise awareness of stigma, whether internal or external, and how you personally feel about your own self, however that may be. Any medium, any concept, any message you want, so long as it doesn't demean or demonize your own disability or another's. Of course, if the message is made that it feels demeaning or is demeaned, that is different, but I'm sure you understand."
Chantelle licked her lips, nodding. She was mostly a painter, but she could work with a variety of mediums, she had taken a variety of classes at art school. Not to mention the point of the gala was simply alluring, the idea of finally having a large scale audience—the gallery was incredibly well known—listening to a group no one ever wanted to listen to, the idea of not contributing seemed almost blasphemous.
"How long do I have to think this through?" she asked, motioning towards the folder, setting down her hands and taking a sip of her coffee.
"Truthfully," Eliza began, looking increasingly more apologetic, "We had waited to even reach out to you in the first place, most of our artists have already begun, as this is a very tight time constraint. We can only give you five days to think."
"That's more than enough time," she replied, checking the folder quickly to see her deadlines, "I've had galleries that demanded paintings in much less time than this, if I accept, there won't be any problems getting the pieces done."
She hoped.
With nothing else to converse about, the two parted ways, solidifying their emails and Eliza thanking her for agreeing to consider the offer, and Chantelle explaining why she even wanted to, glad to see the bright smile that she evoked from it.
Sighing, Chantelle pulled out her phone and texted Amanda. She needed someone to talk to about this.
º º º
"Pretty."
Chantelle smiled as the small five-year-old in her lap signed out the word, pointing towards her hearing aids. They were an orange-red color with a swirled effect for the ear mold, and were often the only pop of color in her usually darker clothing style The little girl reached out towards them, but Chantelle stopped her, shaking her head.
"I need these," she explained, signing carefully. The little girl nodded and instead went back to playing with her shirt collar.
Chantelle always liked going back to volunteer at the center whenever she could, finding that it had expanded to almost being a daycare at times, as the people who worked there were much more understanding than regular nannies. She swung by whenever she could to help watch over the children, it was soothing for her.
"Chantelle!"
She turned and smiled, finding her neighbor, Nikki, making her way over, eagerly waving with one hand before going back to pushing at her wheels down the wide hallway towards the gate keeping the children from wandering off.
"Hi," Chantelle said, crouching down, looking at her through the gate.
"Hi," Nikki laughed, "It's good to see you, you've been holed up in your apartment working, Amanda said, what're you doing now?"
Amanda and Nikki had been dating for a few years, Nikki also frequently volunteering when she wasn't working as one of the best defense attorneys at her law firm, and she had become a main fixture in Chantelle's life, always appearing in her grey blazers and skirts, with a bright smile that hid the fact she could verbally obliterate someone if she wanted to.
"I was supposed to be relaxing, but I guess I found myself another job," Chantelle sighed, moving to sit down as she rolled her neck, groaning, "I'm still debating on whether or not I want to take it, because I checked what they're going to pay, it's really good."
"Then what's the problem?" Nikki joked, genuinely curious as she furrowed her brow.
"It's gallery work," Chantelle sighed, and Nikki sucked in a breath, humming lowly as she nodded in understanding.
"But," Chantelle added, "It's a gala about raising awareness of stigma against disabled people, and it's wholeheartedly backed by the Deaf community and so many others, and the gallery is really well known, and—"
"You can't not support it," Nikki finished, nodding, "Well, honey, if you ask me, I think you should go for it, but you have been gone from the scene in a while, don't feel forced to go back."
"How do you think people will react when I do?" she asked, "It's still a big deal to some that I left, I'd hate for the harsh critique of my reasons."
"Who cares," Nikki scoffed, "It was your decision and you return back when you want to, if you want to, who cares what other people think? If they deride you for coming back because you want to support your community, their statements are practically invalid. And I'll be more than happy to roll over some toes, if need be."
Chantelle laughed at that, shaking her head as the blonde smiling at her, reaching out past the gate to take her hand, looking her in the eye. "You do what you think is best. If you want to do this, do it. But only if you think you can handle it."
Chantelle took a deep breath and sighed, shrugging. "I mean, I've handled worse."
Nikki pursed her lips. "That doesn't sound like the most valid of reasons, but I trust your ability to make choices for yourself. It'll be nice to see you going back to gallery work, I miss the sleek black dresses and pearls."
After a little more catching up, the two parted ways, Amanda making her way back down the hall and Chantelle turning back towards the children, smiling when she caught Amanda who was finger painting.
"What were you talking about?" the woman asked, only using one hand as the other was covered in a variety of paints.
"I met with the woman from the gala," Chantelle explained, "I really want to be a part of it, but...it's gallery work."
Amanda gave her a knowing look, nodding. "If you want to, you should. Who knows, it could start another uproar and people might go out to see the gallery. Gain more attention."
Chantelle mulled over that for a moment, smiling at the thought. If only. However, it was a good enough excuse to tell herself, keep focused on the end goal of the gala to get over the fact that she was going back into territory that nearly ended her career completely, stuck in a rut that she knew she still had not come out of.
"What if I fail?" she asked, "What if I don't make the deadline? There is so much time, I can't have that be a reason."
Amanda rolled her eyes at that, which wasn't exactly the reaction Chantelle had been expecting, but the woman began to sign, giving her an amused look. "You never completely fail. You don't always get the outcome you want, but you always get something finished. Don't worry about something that will never happen."
Chantelle smiled, ducking her head as she stared at the plastic table they were kneeling at, running her fingers over the rough texture. Amanda did have a point, even if it wasn't her best work, she always did have something to submit.
"Well," she smiled, giggling as she signed, letting one of the children move to sit on her lap, beginning to finger paint, "Considering I still have my current job, we're going to need to stock up on coffee."
Amanda shook her head, smiling. "I'm proud of you, Chantelle."
Chantelle hummed, knowing the other woman couldn't hear her. "Let's hope it stays that way."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
( 06.29.18 )
Okay so in true me fashion, she will be meeting Stephen next chapter, sorry that this is starting out really slow, but I want ya'll to see Chantelle, the people in her life, and what she really values, and it'll all make sense, I promise.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!