Together Apart: Change is Never Easy by Lexi Maxxwell Page A

He’d then elbow Sam as if hinting and add that he could illustrate her book covers. Because while Sam was arguing that book cover work would hardly provide enough of an income, Zach’s interest in Sam’s career meant trying to steer her away from secure jobs and over to what he jokingly called “the dark side.” In Sam’s ideal world, they’d both have steady jobs with reliable incomes. In Zach’s, they’d both spend their time attempting creative entrepreneurial ventures in unproven, unreliable fields. Sam saw them as a journalist and a professional illustrator. Zach saw them as an indie author and a freewheeling artist. Maybe homeless.
    “I think you’re looking at the job the wrong way,” she said, suddenly inspired. “Don’t think of it as a trap. Think of it as a life-support system.”  
    “How so?”  
    “Well, if we just kind of wing it — here or anywhere else — money will be short. Not to bring you down, but that’s how it is. Wouldn’t it be easier to create and network and build if you didn’t have to worry about making sales of your own stuff because your actual income was safe? That way you could create at your own pace because it’d be a sideline — you’d have that life-support system to keep you alive in the meantime. Do you get me?”  
    “I suppose. But that’s not different from freelancing, really.”  
    “Of course it is. You’re already scrambling with your art. If you add an income source, it can be one where you have to scramble — like looking for freelance jobs — or it could be one that shows up each week that you don’t have to worry about.”  
    “And that takes all my time.”  
    “That’s the tradeoff. But you can work in the evenings and on weekends. What else are you going to do?”  
    “Um, I don’t know. Hang out with my wife, maybe?”  
    Sam took his hand. “Baby, we have all the time in the world. It wouldn’t be forever.”  
    Zach shook his head. She could read him; he knew she was right but didn’t like it. “I really don’t want to go into an office.”
    “These are creative people! I’m sure it’d be fun.”  
    “Eight hours a day of fun.”  
    Sam shrugged. “Welcome to being a grown-up.”  
    Zach cocked his head as if to say, That’s not fair . And she supposed it wasn’t, because it was a statement that turned anything he might make into the yammering of an immature child. But truth was truth, and as much as Sam wanted her man to follow his passions, room and board was never free.  
    “Okay, Sam, I’ll find a graphic design job,” Zach said with a strange, sinister look.  
    “Ooo-kay … ”  
    “But you’ve got to do something for me.”  
    “What?”  
    “Publish Relegated .”  
    “Zach … ” she whined.  
    Now who wasn’t playing fair?  
    Zach sat back, throwing his hands up. “Hey, that’s the deal. You want me to be a whore, you’ve got to agree to do this one little non-whorish thing yourself. That book is just sitting on your hard drive. And it’s so good. So publish it. Put it out into the world.”  
    “No way. It’s not ready.”  
    He laughed. “When is it going to be ready?”  
    “It needs another edit. I’ll get around to it eventually. Promise.”  
    It was such bullshit. Sam’s novel had been kicking around inside her head since high school. She’d written it the summer before college, then rewritten it early her freshman year. At the time, the novel seemed very important. She’d come to Portland from New Hampshire for college and knew no one, so Sam supposed writing was her way of whistling in the dark during those lonely months, trying to calm herself by slipping into her fantasy world. By the time her rewrite and subsequent polish were finished, Sam had settled in at UP — she was involved in club volleyball, had joined a gym, and met scads of cool girls, plus a few guys (including some cute ones who were good for single, disposable dates). She was immersed in