She thinks I made it

I drove to Harlem alone. Henry's key was cold in my hand. The house was empty. That is what I needed to see.

I texted my sister. I said they picked me. They did not pick me. She sent a thumbs up. She is happy.

I stood in the front room and listened. I could hear how it will sound in ten days. The room is becoming a place for the shoot. I am part of it. I do not know what part.

I could not tell her the truth. I wanted her to think I won. I am so tired of being the girl who is still trying. I want to be the one who already did it.

She is smiling in Washington Heights right now. She thinks I made it. I did not make it.

I hate that I feel better when people think I am winning. I hate that I did not say not yet. I just let her believe it.

I am standing in a house that is not mine. Holding a key that is not mine. Lying to the one person I love.

I will try to make the lie true. That is the only plan I have.