Staring up at the Ceiling Flash Story

A man named Dan thinks about his life choices and regrets. How have my life decisions led up to this point? I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a job that I hate. What am I doing with my life? Maybe I should see a therapist. He makes an appointment with the nearest counseling office.

Next week, he walks into the counselor’s office, and after a few minutes of waiting, the counselor calls him in.

“So, what brings you here today, Dan?” Melinda, the counselor says.

“Well, as I said on the phone, I don’t know what to do next with my life,” Dan says as he sits on the therapist couch (Freudian couch).

“What do you mean?” Melinda says as she writes notes on her notepad.

“I mean, I can’t find a girlfriend and I hate my job,” Dan says.

“Have you thought about going back to school, either online or on-campus?” Melinda asks.

“No, I’d stick out of the crowd, I’m in my thirties and they’re in their early teens or twenties — -and it’s too expensive,” Dan complained.

“No, you wouldn’t, lots of people are going back to school these days, and there are loans,” Melinda replied.

“No, I don’t want to go back, college was a hard time for me,” Dan says, remembering his college days.

“Do you want to talk about it or do you want to change your life? Melinda says, giving him an ultimatum.

“I want to change my life,” Dan says quietly.

“Louder!” Melinda shouted.

“I want to change my life!” Dan shouted.

“Come on, how bad do you want it?!” Melinda shouted back.

“I want to change my life!” Dan shouted louder, so loud the next patient in the waiting room heard him even with the door closed.

“Good, now that’s all the time we have for today, see you next time!” Melinda says still in her hyped-up voice.

“Sure?” Dan says in confusion.

“Sorry, I’m having a hard time turning it off,” Melinda says as her voice slowly tones down. “There we go.”

Dan says goodbye and walks out with confidence to go back to school.

In the fall, he returns to college, the same college he attended in his early twenties. He revisits the Arts Building and sees the room he took his painting class. The room was empty since it was lunchtime. He remembers the teacher let him and the other students of his class paint a ceiling tile. Dan looks up at the ceiling for his tile, he finds it, a huge smiley face with a dark blue background. He remembers he wanted to paint something simple and wanted to make people happy. He remembers all the good times he had at college and when he decided to switch majors. His parents made him because they said he wouldn’t make enough money as an artist to sustain himself. So, he switched to a business major. In that moment, he decides he will take art classes here again. He would be an artist part-time and still work at his other job.

Months later, he started his painting class and his first assignment was to paint a sunset landscape. He thought it would be easy, but it took him nights to finish. He now had to work part-time at his job, instead of the usual full-time. I was going to give up, but he remembered what his counselor said.

After a few assignments, his professor asked him to stay after class.

“Your paintings are getting worse. It’s either from lack of sleep or you’re overworked,” his professor said.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been working at my job part-time, I have other classes, and I’ve been tirelessly working on these paintings,” Dan says, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not your counselor or academic advisor, but you either need to get more sleep or drop out of one of your classes,” his professor said.

“I’ll — drop out of one of my classes,” Dan says in sorrow.

Dan later logs onto the school’s website and drops out of his ceramics class.

He can now focus more on his paintings.

He can’t afford a car anymore, so he sells it and buys a bicycle.

One day, while riding his bike to work, he stares at his phone to change the song. He accidentally steers off the sidewalk and crashes into a car, he’s flung over the car. The driver of the car calls an ambulance. Dan is taken to the hospital.

After he’s all bandaged up and his right hand is put in a cast, the doctor tells him he won’t be to write the same way again.

“Does that mean I can’t paint ever again?” Dan asks.

“I guess so,” the doctor says with emotional numbness. “But you will be able to type.”

“I can still be a writer,” Dan accepts.

He drops out of his art classes and waits to join some creative writing classes. This time it was easier for him since he took one class at a time.

Years later, he graduated with a bachelor’s degree and now writes for a magazine. He quit his old job and things are only looking up from here. He never needed a girlfriend to be happy, he found other things to make him happy.