Houston, We Have a Problema

by Gwendolyn Zepeda

  “I understand that you’re upset,” Mr. Cochran said. “But I think you’re taking things way too personally. You’re a good employee, Jessica, and I’ve been meaning to show you McCormick’s appreciation in the form of a raise. I just haven’t had the chance —”

  Jessica shook her head, still smiling as beatifically as a saint. Now that this moment had come — a moment she’d fantasized about more than once — she found that there was no need for anger or passionate declarations. “Mr. Cochran, I’m not upset at all. I just don’t want to work in insurance anymore. And now you have Ryan, who’s more qualified than I am, so I can leave with a clear conscience, and you guys won’t be stuck trying to find someone to replace me. So, I’ll just let myself out. Thanks, Mr. Cochran, for everything you’ve done.”

  With that, she turned and let herself out of his office, leaving him stunned in her wake.

  “Did you tell him something?” Rochelle whispered as Jessica made her way back to their desks.

  “Oh yeah. I told him something.” Jessica sat and, systematically, deleted every bit of her own personality from her computer’s hard drive. After that, she would put her personal items into the tote bag she kept in her bottom drawer. After that, she would neatly stack her unfinished work and then leave.

  As she cleared her space bit by bit, Jessica hummed. The floating sensation was filling her. It was as if she were tipsy on the dance floor, spinning under the lights. Or driving fast down an empty road to an exciting destination.

  She knew she should have been worried, because she’d just done what you weren’t ever supposed to do. She’d quit her job without another job to go to, and her future was completely uncertain.

  Despite all that, Jessica felt good. For the first time in a long, long while, she felt in control of her life.

  48

  Jessica’s newfound sense of power carried her out to the parking garage and into her trusty Accord, where she deposited her little tote bag of office supplies and sugarless gum. Then she took the wheel. Where should I go? she asked herself. The answer was, anywhere she wanted.

  She wanted to go to the park — the one next to the zoo, where there were squirrels and ducks to watch. So she drove there, as exhilarated as a kid skipping school. But better, because there was nothing to feel guilty about in this case. She’d just gotten rid of a dead-end job and a boss who didn’t appreciate or respect her. It was a landmark day. “Today,” she told herself as she pulled into the nearly empty zoo parking lot, “is the first day of the rest of my life.”

  Her jobless life, that was. But Jessica refused to worry about that just yet. She got out of her car and walked through the picnic tables and giant trees, across acorn- and pine-needle-strewn grass, to a shady park bench. The job thing was a technicality, and it didn’t even scare her. What was there to be afraid of? Worst-case scenario, she told herself, she’d go to a temp agency and hire herself out as a personal assistant again. No, she amended to herself. Worst-case scenario would be getting a retail job. Or a waitressing job.

  “No,” she said softly to the first squirrel that ran up, hoping for food. The absolute worst-case scenario would be moving back in with her parents.

  With that many scenarios to go through before total disaster, Jessica really had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t as if she were in danger of starving to death. She knocked on wood at that thought, then smiled at the squirrel and reached down with a coaxing hand. He stared at her quizzically for a moment before sauntering off.

  She found, suddenly, the headiness of taking control — of taking action — was addictive. Already, the high of leaving her job was fading and she was ready to take on something else. She was on a roll — a self-help role.

  Jessica tucked her legs onto the bench and pulled her cell phone from her purse. It was time to set something else straight. She flipped open the phone but paused before dialing. Whom should she call first?

  She needed to call Jonathan. It had been eating at her mind all morning. What would she say, though?

  Jessica was so still as she sat there thinking, several more curious squirrels scampered right up to her bench and she didn’t even notice. There was something else eating at her mind. Something she’d said to Marisol.

  Someone like that. She had said that she never should have tried dating someone like Jonathan. Just as he’d never imagined her dating “someone like that,” meaning Guillermo.

  How could she be angry at Jonathan for thinking of Guillermo that way, when she’d been thinking of Jonathan that way all along?

  Had she ever really given him a fair chance? Jessica had to ask herself. Or had she lumped him in with Sabrina’s other friends right from the beginning?

  And what about Sabrina’s other friends? How fair was it to think of them as one solid entity — a big white, middle-class, multiheaded monster?

  It was an uncomfortable train of thought, but Jessica forced herself to follow it. She’d thought she had a good reason to dislike Sabrina’s friends. She’d blamed them for making Sabrina go suburban, for making her leave the family behind. But that wasn’t the case, was it? If Jessica was being honest with herself, she knew better than anyone how hard it was to keep Sabrina from getting her way. If her stubborn sister had really wanted to stay near the family, David would have let her. He wouldn’t have been able to say no.

  And he hadn’t said no, because he loved her. Just as he never batted an eye at their father’s borderline-racist jokes. And now that Jessica thought about it, Sabrina probably wouldn’t tolerate her husband or her friends being racist, even if she did have to put up with it from Papi.

  So why hadn’t Jessica given Sabrina’s friends — or her husband, for that matter — more of a chance?

  Because she herself had been too quick to judge. She’d assumed that anyone who lived in the suburbs and cared more about property taxes than fashion must be a loser, not worth her time. And she’d assumed that because Jonathan liked trendy music and trendy restaurants, he might be the exception to the rule.

  Most painful of all, she’d assumed that she and Sabrina would be alike forever — that they’d always want the same things out of life. And when that changed, that someone was to blame. A white someone. Just like the white someones her father had been blaming his problems on for years.

  And she’d been wrong. About everything.

  She needed to call Jonathan. He wasn’t right for her, she knew now, but she needed to give them both the opportunity for closure. But first, she needed to adjust her attitude as far as people like Jonathan — or anyone different from her — were concerned.

  She would start by making amends with her sister. Jessica dialed Sabrina’s number.

  “Hello?” said her mother on the other end of the line.

  “Mami. You’re still staying at Sabrina’s?” Jessica sighed. In the midst of her own personal drama, she’d almost forgotten that her mother wasn’t sleeping at home anymore.

  “No,” said Mami. “I’m here right now to help Sabrina a little, but I went home on Saturday.”

  “Help Sabrina do what? Mami, why aren’t you at work? Is Sabrina okay?” Jessica felt fear grip her like an icy fist. Her mother never took the day off. And Sabrina had been having health problems. This could only mean . . .

  “She’s fine, m’ija. Don’t worry. I just came over to help her put the guest bedroom back the way it was, and to look at some clothes she wanted me to see. And then I’m going back home, because I’m on vacation.”

  “What?” Jessica couldn’t have been more surprised if her mother had said she was on a reality show.

  “That’s right. I took the whole week off.” Her mother sounded proud, like a child presenting a macaroni collage.

  “What are you going to do?” Jessica asked. “What about Papi? Are you going somewhere together?”

  “Your father had to go in today, but he’s taking off the rest of the week. We had a talk about some things. I don’t know what we’re doing yet. We might go s
omewhere, or we might just stay home.”

  “Mami . . .” Jessica felt shy about delving into her mother’s personal business. Especially when Mami sounded so confident and like her usual self. “How are things going, then? Are you two okay?”

  “We’re okay. We will be. I don’t know yet what’s going to happen, but whatever it is, it’ll be for the best, m’ija. You have to understand that.” Before Jessica could say anything else, Mami said, “Were you calling for your sister?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “She’s in the garage right now. I’d better go help her. But I’ll tell her you called, and she’ll call you back, okay?”

  The phone call was over, and Jessica had to be content with the way things were between her parents. She could control her own life, but not anyone else’s.

  49

  The next day, as she drove to ALMA, Jessica felt the same empowerment high from the day before. She wouldn’t be able to predict the outcome of this meeting, of course, but at least she was doing something. She was trying to make a change in her life, instead of just waiting around for something to happen.

  “Come in, come in,” said Mrs. Vargas, who’d arrived fifteen minutes late for their meeting. Jessica had spent the time cooling her heels in the lobby, examining the latest student art exhibit and talking with a few of the artists themselves.

  “So, Jessica, what’s on your mind?”

  “Mrs. Vargas, I understand that you recently lost an instructor.”

  “Yes, that’s right. We’re still looking for a replacement so we don’t lose the grant money that was funding his residency. Do you know anyone who plays accordion?”

  “No. But, actually, I have an idea for how you can replace him. I don’t know the terms of your grant, but I was wondering if it would fund a different kind of arts teacher. A digital art teacher. I was thinking that you could hire me. I could teach web design and digital art editing to the older students and adults. Or to the other arts teachers.”

  Esmeralda was still listening. Jessica hurried to fill the silence with something that made sense. “That way, I could also keep working on the ALMA site, as a member of the staff. And we could incorporate the idea we talked about — the kids having their own web pages — into the classes, so that they could actually make the pages themselves. Or . . . ,” She had run out of things to say. “Or, whatever you see fit.”

  Esmeralda looked out the small bit of window visible through all the artwork, photos, and awards crowding her office. She was obviously considering the idea, but Jessica had no way of knowing whether she liked it or not. Her face, as always, was as impassive as a portrait’s. Finally, she turned to face Jessica again.

  “That’s a good idea. But, really, the community needs basic computer skills more than they need to learn how to do web sites. They need job skills.”

  Jessica knew just how to solve that. “I can teach basic computer skills. I could teach word processing, spreadsheets, presentation skills — everything. I could do all that, plus the web design, and we could call it computer arts.”

  “That’s an even better idea. But where would we get the computers to do it? I could probably put your salary on the program budget, but the students can’t learn by looking over your shoulder at your laptop.” Esmeralda smiled, inviting Jessica to come up with an answer to that.

  And she did. “I can get a corporate donation for them. I’m sure McCormick . . .” Well, not McCormick, actually. They probably wouldn’t want to donate anything now that Jessica had quit her job. She had to think fast. “Halronburco. Have they ever contributed anything to ALMA?”

  Esmeralda smiled and shook her head.

  “Well, I have a contact . . . I have two contacts there, in pretty high positions. I’m sure I could get them to donate the computers, as long as they could put their logo on one of ALMA’s brochures.”

  Esmeralda narrowed her eyes and looked out her window again.

  Jessica waited. Really, it was a good idea, if she could make it work. Wasn’t it?

  “It is a good idea, Jessica. Let me think about it for a while and talk to my staff.”

  50

  Two down, two to go, Jessica thought as she drove away from ALMA. Three down, if she counted the way she’d dispatched Guillermo. Now all she had to do was clear the air with Sabrina and talk to Jonathan. And she didn’t know which would be more difficult. She sighed to herself and drove toward the zoo park again. She liked being there, she’d found. Being outside, away from her computer and TV, helped her think more clearly. It was only six-thirty, so there was plenty of June daylight left, but not so much heat anymore.

  Back at the same park bench as before, with only the squirrels to eavesdrop, she dialed Jonathan’s cell number.

  “Hello?”

  “Jonathan. It’s me. Hi.”

  “Jessica.” He sounded relieved. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to call you myself, but I thought . . . Well, I thought I’d wait until you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Thanks,” said Jessica. She had wondered, a little, why he hadn’t called. He and Guillermo really were polar opposites, she saw now. Whereas Guillermo was emotional to the point of stalkerhood, Jonathan was as proper and polite as a distant moon. And it had turned out that neither of those qualities was to her taste.

  “Listen, I talked to Sabrina,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called her, and she explained what was going on.”

  “Did she?” Jessica was immediately annoyed. What had Sabrina said? Had she told Jonathan that Jessica had been apprehensive about dating him all along? That she was racist? “What did she say?”

  “She told me that you’d been dating Guillermo for a while, but that you’d kept it quiet because you didn’t want your family interfering with your personal life. And she told me that you only went out with me because she’d pressured you into it. And, Jessica, I just want to say that, as embarrassing as that was for me to hear, I understand, and I apologize for my part of it. I see now that I rushed you into something that —”

  “Wait, wait. Jonathan, stop.” Jessica shook her head, as if he could see her. As if that would erase all the suspicions she’d just entertained about her own sister. “What she told you was wrong. I mean, it is partially right, but that has nothing to do with you and me or why I agreed to go out with you. The thing with Guillermo wasn’t serious, and I really was interested in you. I wouldn’t have gone out with you if I weren’t.”

  He sighed audibly into the phone. “Well, that’s a relief, at any rate.”

  A squirrel dug into pine needles under the next park bench. A shiny black grackle landed on top of it and looked at Jessica with a yellow eye. She took a deep breath and readied herself to tell the truth.

  “What she didn’t tell you, Jonathan, is that I’ve had issues with dating you all along. Nothing to do with you, but my own issues.”

  He waited. Said nothing.

  “See, I never gave you a fair chance. I realize that now. Instead of taking time to find out who you are, I’ve been too busy worrying about what you are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re white, you grew up middle-class, and you wear a suit to work every day. And, I’m really sorry — I know this makes me shallow . . . and worse . . . but I’ve never dated a guy like you, and I had a lot of . . . preconceived notions about you. And I let those get in the way.”

  He laughed, not happily, but as if he were surprised. “What kind of preconceived notions? Jessica, I’m honestly one of the most liberal white guys you could meet.”

  She chuckled, too. It eased the tension. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you were only dating me because I looked similar enough to your friends. Maybe I was worried that I’d never be able to introduce you to some of my friends.” She couldn’t help adding wryly, “Who look like struggling painters. Or maintenance men. Or bottling plant foremen, like my dad.”

  “Oh God. Jessica, I really am sorry for that. You have to believe me — if I�
�d had any idea that guy had been someone you were dating . . . Well, I guess I would’ve been uncomfortable on a whole other level, then, wouldn’t I?” He gave another awkward laugh. “But I hope you aren’t judging me based on that one incident. I hope you know that I have the utmost respect for you and that would automatically carry over to anyone you care about.”

  “I know,” she said.

  She decided not to bring up his comment about her dating “someone like that.” It was pointless by now. He’d said it without thinking and probably didn’t even remember it anymore. And she did believe that he had the best intentions — that he would never consciously judge someone by their race or class. It was time to get back to the point.

  “The thing is, Jonathan, that night made me realize how much baggage I was bringing into our relationship. And I was so busy struggling with that baggage, I couldn’t judge what was happening on its own merits. Honestly, I suspect that you and I aren’t an ideal match. But whether we are or not, I need to let you go. I need to deal with my culture issues and let you find someone who doesn’t have any to work out.”

  After the last word, she expelled her breath slowly. Although her head felt as if it were buzzing, it felt good to get the truth out, she thought. Even when the truth was not so pretty.

  Jonathan was quiet for a moment, then let out a slow sigh. “Okay. I understand.”

  She felt a flash of pity for him, but at the same time, she felt relief for them both.

  There were a few stock phrases after that, in which they assured each other there were no hard feelings and they could still be friends.

  And then it was over. Jessica drove home.

  51