by Gina Calanni
Chapter Fourteen
I let go of Brandon’s hand as we edge closer to the door of the Blue Ribbon factory building. I know he doesn’t mind any type of PDA, but I think we need to be careful about it here at work. He pushes open the door and we walk through it together. I know I want it to be a secret, but I wonder if anyone here suspects anything.
And more importantly, I want to see where I stand on my own. I entered this building for the first time on my own and I need to see these results on my own. I need to know that I’m making this happen for me. All Sahara. With no one else’s help. Lord knows my mama hasn’t been supportive and that’s fine, and I would never speak those words out loud, but I’m here now. This grade is a make-it-or-break-it moment for me. I’m making waves with Eagle Online. Despite their tagline, it turns out that they do have some sort of something in regards to giving out degrees. So I might not be a complete failure there. However, I still have the debt to tend to. I’ve got to figure it all out. I do and I will. But first I need to see where my fate lies with the numbers that are listed on the wall.
The results are posted on the outside of Mr. Flints’ door with the last four of our social security numbers instead of our names. My heart begins to pick up the pace as we get closer to the door and the scores. I’m so nervous. What if I didn’t make an eighty or above? What then? I’ll have to go back home and move back in with my mama. I swallow hard. I can’t even imagine returning at this point. My ship has sailed. I’m headed for success. I need this to happen. It’s like I’m one of those spiritual shows and I close my eyes as if I could will this moment for myself. To make the number equate to above an eighty, that’s all I need. I squeeze my eyes tight. I know it probably doesn’t mean anything or work or whatever, but I do it anyways. I let all the hope and pressure of this moment flow through my body. It’s like it’s vibrating off my skin. The pressure is strong.
Brandon squeezes my bicep. “Go on, what’s your last four?” Thankfully, we are alone. I can’t imagine viewing my results in front of others. Including Brandon.
I eye him and take a deep breath. I can’t tell him. I need to see for myself first. I read over the numbers until I get to my number: seven seven seven nine. The only triple sevens I’ll probably ever see is what my mama always says about my social security number.
I read across the line until I get to the score. Ninety-two. Ninety-two. I did it! I take in a deep breath and take in Brandon.
His eyebrows are raised. “I’m guessing you got above an eighty?”
I grin bigger than a Ronald McDonald at a kid’s birthday party and forget about my no PDA at work and wrap my arms around him in a big hug. He catches me and kisses my lips quickly before placing me back on the ground. The other students are filling the hallway as we release each other. I glance back at Brandon.
“So, what did you get?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Wait, what did you get?” I jerk my head back.
“Above an eighty.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, but what was your score?”
“Tell me yours first.” Brandon grabs for my hand.
“I got a ninety-two.” I inspect his face, trying to figure out if he got better or worse than me. I can’t figure it out. He gives nothing away. Definitely wouldn’t want to play poker with him.
“Sahara Smith. There you are.”
All the warmth and excitement from my body is sucked up through a vent of destruction. I can hardly breathe myself. I try and take in a deep breath. But it’s like the air has been vacuumed out of the hallway and I’m gasping and searching for an oxygen tank. Something, anything, to help me catch my breath. But there is nothing. No air. No help. It’s like I’m drowning without any water. My head is underneath the idea of a possible okay reality. I haven’t pushed fast-forward on the film but I’ve already seen the reel. I know what’s going to happen. I haven’t experienced it yet. But it’s coming, along with the aftermath.
I’d know that voice anywhere. Well, anyone should know the voices of their family, especially their mother. I turn around and see my mama marching down the hallway waving a stack of papers at me. She’s wearing her navy church dress. I can’t say I’m not surprised to see her in this dress and not on a Sunday, but even more to see her period. Especially at Blue Ribbon Creamery.
“Mama?”
“Yes, Sahara, it’s your mama and I am not happy.” She shakes her head at me like she did when I was a child and made a mistake. Except, I’m no longer a child. I’m an adult, living on my own. Well, granted, it’s technically a roommate situation, but still. I’m not living at home, and I have a job. So why is my mama giving me this look? The look of, shame on you, Sahara, for getting dirt on your Sunday dress… I only did that one time, for the record. Lord knows being scrubbed down in the bath tub with my Sunday dress and a wire brush was enough for me not to make the same mistake again.
“What’s wrong, Mama? Is it Ms. Myra?”
“No, it is not. It’s your student loan debt. I told you they wouldn’t quit calling me. Well, now they have sent a big envelope full of all your bills, and you know what? I went ahead and opened it. Sahara, you owe them a lot of money.” She is waving the stack of papers at me.
Everyone in the hallway is slowly scattering away leaving me with my mama and Brandon. This couldn’t be any worse of a first impression. I want to dig a big hole in the linoleum and fall through. I can’t even glance in Brandon’s direction. There isn’t a moment in my life where I have been more mortified. Even the day I left the ice-cream spinner going at Dairy Queen and we filled up the floor with melted ice cream, even that was not as bad as seeing my mama in her church gear talking financial situations in front of others. This is even against her rules.
“Mama, please can we talk about this later? I want you to meet Brandon.” I motion in his direction. I can’t even glance at him. I do not want to know what shade his eyes are, or if he is even able to look at me in this moment. I’m beyond embarrassed.
“Hi, Mrs. Smith, it’s nice to meet you.” Brandon offers his hand.
My mama takes his hand and shakes it. “What’s your last name?”
“Rollins.”
“Brandon Rollins – right. Sahara, please tell me you did not think this guy was going to solve all your problems?” She shakes her head at me. And tsks with her tongue. Oh, Lord. This is getting worse by the minute.
“Mama? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Shoot, girl, sometimes your head is thicker than a block of wood. Did you think that hooking up with some rich boy was going to solve these student debts of yours?” She waves the stack of bills again as if I had forgotten about them in the last sixty seconds. I might be dumb, but my memory is not that bad.
I jerk my head back. I know Brandon drives a fancy truck, but he said he won that in a bet. Then again, I don’t really know if he is rich or not. That’s because it’s not important to me, despite whatever it is that my mama is insinuating. I can’t even believe what is taking place in front of me. I want to delete myself from this conversation as if I could just click a button.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mama. I have a job here and I will be paying back my debts just like I agreed to do.” I swipe some hair off my face. I wish I could swipe this situation from my reality because it is too much for me to deal with. I’m drowning in this hallway of embarrassment. This is not the moment I would want to introduce Brandon to my mama in her church dress, which is clearly for a Sunday morning sermon and not a Friday afternoon in a factory. This is just all wrong.
“Girl, these debts are due now.” She sticks the bills in front of my face, like I need to read them to understand what she is saying. I get it. But this is not the time or place. Why is it that she can’t see that? I shake my head and turn to Brandon. “I’m sorry, I need to talk with my mama. Can I call you later?”
“Sure.” Brandon leans down and kisses my head before walking down the hallway and somehow it’s like he�
��s walking out of my life. I swallow hard and glance back at my mama.
“What are you talking about, Mama?”
“This, Sahara. I’ve got those bill collectors calling me all day and night and I read through these papers and you owe the money now. Hooking up with the heir to the Blue Ribbon throne is not going to solve this one, girl. So I hope you have a better plan than that.”
I blink. “What? Heir to the Blue Ribbon throne? What does that mean? Are you feeling all right?” My mama has only had a few spells, as she calls them, in her life. One was right after my daddy left and the other was the Valentine’s Day that followed his departure.
“Oh, Lord, you don’t know, do you?” My mama rolls her eyes and throws her head back.
“Know what?” I’ve never felt so aggravated with my mama before, but she is about to put me at my wits’ end. I’m not in the right mind to be kind and patient after I’ve been dumped in the mud for all to see and now I’m sitting in all this murkiness asking for the rope so I can pull myself out. I’ve never expected anything from anyone so why is my mama stating otherwise?
She shakes her head at me. “Brandon Rollins. Rollins is his mother’s maiden name. He is the son of Richard Blue, the man who owns this factory.” My mama throws her arms in the air and all the papers she was clutching so tightly over my head fall through the air and scatter on the ground like a bucket of dreams that have melted into a big puddle of foolishness. I glance around and the other students who were checking out their grades have been quick to exit the area. Thankfully, their own humanity has spared me some humiliation in this moment and they don’t want to let me fall deeper than I already am by witnessing this moment of defeat. Of despair. Of betrayal. No, I didn’t know he was the heir. Why would I know that? It’s not like Brandon told me this.
My jaw is lying on the ground and my heart crashes right on top of it. I can’t believe what my mama just said. Maybe she’s wrong? She’s been wrong about plenty of things before. Brandon, my Brandon, is the heir to the Blue Ribbon factory? Is this even possible? And if it is, what does that mean for me? Was I just a distraction for him during the class? Or even worse, was I nothing? Was he just playing me? Having fun at my expense? Like the Dairy Queen today. I swallow hard. I’m dizzy. I need to get home – and not the one I lived with my mama at. I need out. Out of this hallway of broken dreams and failed opportunities. The idea that I could be something more than a Dairy Queen employee, that I could scoop bigger moments for myself, was that all a silly idea? Am I all played out of the fairy tale in my mind?
“I’ve got to go.” I leave my mama in the hallway and rush to Rontu. I start him as fast as I can and roar out of the parking lot. Tears are streaming down my face and my heart is breaking into a million tiny pieces. My chest is tight and I’m afraid I’m going to pass out. I drive away from Blue Ribbon and pass the Dairy Queen and my sobs come louder. Harder, they thump inside of my chest and burn out of my eyes. So much I had going for me. So much I had pictured for myself and none of it was real. Not the degree, not the amount of money I owe, and not Brandon. Ms. Mary was right when she tried to warn me. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I try and focus on the road through the blurred vision of tears streaming from my eyes. I blink on repeat like a windshield wiper on full speed but the tears keep coming. It’s like a volcano of emotions have erupted from my eyes and I’m just going to have to sit on the sidelines until the moment has passed. Until it’s all passed. I keep driving. Farther and farther from everything and everyone. I need to be as far as I can get. Like I need to put physical distance between me and all my mistakes so that I can get a grip of my emotions. Finally, I’ve passed everything in town and I know I’ve got only one place to go. My shoulders slump. I should have known better. I should have known he wouldn’t want to be with me. Why would anyone? How is it that, after all these years, I’d still had hope I might be worth something, to someone?
Chapter Fifteen
There is a soft knocking at my door. I don’t want to answer it. I don’t, but it wouldn’t be polite to ignore Ms. Myra, especially since this is her house.
I open the door. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Sahara, sweetie, your mama is here.” Ms. Myra nods to the living room.
“Yes, ma’am.” I stalk down the hallway and see my mama pacing in the living room of Ms. Myra’s house. Her hair is a bit frazzled, not in the normal church bouffant. I don’t want her to be upset. But… things are different now. Even between the two of us.
“Hey, Mama.” I stop a few feet from her. Distance. Always the distance. I still don’t understand why it has to be this way. But I know this ain’t one of them fancy Hallmark movies with a big hug and all that good stuff. My mama has never been the hugging type. I have to keep the four feet between us or I know she would take a few steps backwards to make up for my move in her direction.
“You got your things?” She pats her hair down as if she is feeling fine.
“What?” I take a step back on my own. This isn’t for her but rather for me this time.
“Sahara, you can’t stay here. You need to come home and figure out how to pay these bills.” She taps the papers in her hand.
“Mama, I’ve got a job here. I passed my final test and I’ll be making good money.” I’m going to sort the Eagle Online part. But I’ve shown I can pass the test and they wanted me based on my flavor abilities. That’s got to count for something. I’m sure of it.
She shakes her head. “Girl, you’re not going to be making the kind of money that can pay this off. And you won’t have any left over to pay Ms. Myra rent and that’s not right.” My mama’s left eyebrow lifts as if it’s reaching out to the heavens above to tap on the gates and ask God to agree with her.
Ms. Myra walks into the room. “She can stay. I’ll help her figure it out.”
My mama’s jaw drops down to the floor and I almost want to help her pick it up. I know my mama does not like anyone intervening on family matters.
“Oh, I suppose now you want to help fix things.” She tsks.
“Mama, Ms. Myra is just being kind.” I rush to Ms. Myra’s side and hold on to her arm. For one thing, it seems like the only thing I should be doing, and two, she appears to be about to fall down on her own. She is getting weaker by the day. This is not good. But I can’t be worrying about that right now. Not when my mama is in a big fuss.
“Fine. Stay with her then. I’m leaving.” My mama hands me the papers. They are a stack full of promises and hopes that are vanishing as quickly as my mama slams Ms. Myra’s door. My stomach clenches tighter than a pickle jar. I probably should run after my mama and ask her to wait while I gather my things. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to go back with her. I said I’d figure out my student loans and I will. I passed my test. And even if Brandon thought of me as a joke, I’m not going to be one. For once in my life I’m standing up for myself and I’m taking the position I was offered. I’m going to be the product developer that Blue Ribbon hired me to be. I’ve already got a flavor rolling around in my mind for this moment. Sweet Salty Tears. It will have sweet vanilla, with caramel laced through it and rock salt. This will be the first of the flavors I’ll create for them. I’m going to do it. I know I can. I will. This makes me happy. The only problem is that I’m all alone in my happiness. Maybe I’ll come up with an All by Myself à la mode. Cherry base, chocolate chips, and raspberry chunks swirled into it. Yes. That will work.
***
Brandon called several times yesterday and texted. But I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I don’t want to see him again. I know, if I do, it will shatter my heart even more than I ever thought was possible. I’ve got to start being strong. I stood up to my mama yesterday and now I’m going to stand up for myself and do the right thing.
Today is my first day as a product developer at the Blue Ribbon factory. I am nervous knowing that Brandon’s daddy is the owner, but he doesn’t know me and probably never even heard about me. So I’m
going to put that away and bury it. I’m going to move forward and try and be successful on my own. I’ve made it this far. This is one time where I know my mama’s right. I’ve got to buck up and forge on. Even though she was pushing me for this change in my life, it’s the one I’ve chosen for myself. I’m doing it. I’m going forward. I will see this through. I read somewhere that there comes a time when you see the goal and it’s within reach and you don’t sit in your chair admiring it. This is the point where you push the chair out of the picture and raise yourself up on your feet and you don’t rest until you’ve grabbed a hold of the goal and clutched it with your hands and success has run through your veins. This is what I’m going for. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be successful, to be more than a girl behind the glass counter at Dairy Queen serving up a scoop of a few minutes of happiness. No. The scoop I’m going for is going to fill up a lifetime of happiness, I know it. Even if the part where I had daydreamed about Brandon is out of the picture, the rest of it isn’t. I can still go at it with gusto and dig deep with my scoop. I haven’t hit cardboard… yet.
I close my car door and Brandon comes rushing toward me. “Hey, I was worried when I hadn’t heard from you.” He pulls me in close to him and I want to be swept away by my happy emotions about him. But I can’t. I’m cold. I’m frozen. I need to make it in past the doors. Fix my hair net. Make sure my safety gear is on and figure out a flavor for this moment. Sadness. It will be a mix of peach cobbler chunks swirled in with sweet crème and bits of cinnamon sugar crunch. Each bite will be a memory of a happiness that could have been, but now will never be. I can’t do this. I can’t be around Brandon. I’ve got ice cream to make. To create. To develop. That is why I’m here. Ice-cream flavor disasters will be a line. Filled with every moment that I experienced with Brandon. They will be delicious and everyone will be sad when the carton is empty.
“I’ve got to go, excuse me.” I try and push past him. But he stands in my way. Even if I used all my force I wouldn’t be able to get around him. He is a huge guy.