The Broken Road to Forever

by Rhonda Dennis

  “Sorry, Mallory. It’s just me. I hope you get this one right.” It’s Nate who is at my shoulders. I flip back around to eye the pies.

  “Yeah, not likely,” I nervously reply. Nate gives a hearty laugh even though there was no trace of humor in my statement.

  “It’s all in good fun.”

  Microphone to her lips, Whitney reads the question on her card. “Our star quarterback, Nate,” she pauses to give him a wink. I have no idea what his response is being that he’s behind me, but the crowd goes wild. “Nate has quite the arm on him, doesn’t he?” This encourages more cheers. I want to puke. Once the noise dies down, she continues with my question. “How many touchdown passes has our Nate thrown this season?”

  All eyes are on me, and the room is suddenly silent. “Uhhhh…”

  “Nope!” Brent moves before I come up with a number. Eyes scrunched tightly, I grow curious as to why I never feel the hit. Slowly opening one eye at a time, I see that Nate has absorbed the pie to the face for me, and I’m left stunned. The crowd cheers wildly, and the shocked look on Brent’s face is covered by a whipped cream mask when Nate reaches out to push the remaining pie in Brent’s face. An all-out whipped cream war ensues, and I’m barraged in the cross fire. The disgusted principal calls for order, and the students in the bleachers are ordered back to class. Any students remaining on the floor are instructed to help clean up, and I grow antsy because the dismissal bell is due to ring soon. The bus is not going to wait for me, and if I’m not on it, a very long trek is in my future.

  I’m nervously eyeing the clock while scrubbing the wall when Nate approaches. “Oh, come on. It can’t be so bad that you’re literally counting the seconds until you can go home. It was all in good fun, plus you barely got any on you—well, not until we got carried away afterwards.”

  I give an embarrassed half smile. “That was okay. I’m just worried about catching my bus.” My words are barely audible because I’m mortified by my admission that I’m one of the very few senior class bus riders.

  “That’s all? No problem. I can give you a ride.” My imagination goes into overdrive while thinking of how ridiculous I’ll look squeezing my body into the back seat of his coupe.

  “I’ll take her,” Brent chimes in from behind us. “Gotta run some errands for my Pop before going home anyway. I’m pretty sure my truck can withstand it.” Nate gives him a chastising look. “Sorry, Triple P. You know I’m just messing around, right?” I shrug then go back to wiping the wall.

  “He’s wrong for picking on you so much,” Nate says once Brent walks away.

  “It’s no big deal. I’m used to it.”

  “It is a big deal. You should stand up to him, Mallory.”

  “You aren’t the first person to tell me that, but what’s the point? He won’t stop. Why do you even care?”

  “Because it’s been going on since kindergarten. Between you and me, I’ve been secretly waiting for the day that you finally snap and punch him square in the nose. He’ll drop like a rock; you know that, right?” I giggle.

  “He’s your friend. Why would you want me to punch him?”

  “Because he deserves it.”

  “Why are you nice to me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s how people are supposed to treat each other.”

  “Not in high school.”

  “Especially high school. It’s a tough time for a lot of students.”

  I turn to face him. “Why do you speak like a therapist instead of a jock?” He laughs.

  “All I’m saying is everyone has a purpose, and if you have a purpose, then you’re special.”

  “You’re too good to be true, Nate.”

  “I think that, myself,” Whitney says, coming up behind Nate and possessively wrapping her arms around his waist. I’m instantly jealous that I don’t have someone to cuddle.

  “Yo! Triple P! Waiting on you, here!” Brent yells from across the gym as Tiffany, arm laced through his, bounces on the balls of her feet.

  “Guess I gotta go.” I toss down the rag I was using and give a quick wave in the direction of Nate and Whitney.

  “Wait. Are you going to the homecoming dance, Mallory?” Whitney asks. I shake my head.

  “I have to work.”

  “Surely, you can get the night off for your very last homecoming dance.”

  “I don’t have a date.”

  “That’s why I ask,” Whitney says, looking towards Nate. “Howard?” Nate’s eyes light up.

  “Yes!” he says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nate’s cousin Howard is going to be in town, and we were thinking it would be really fun if he could find a date and come along with us to the dance. Would you help us out?”

  “I… No.”

  “Oh, come on! Please,” Whitney begs.

  “I don’t have a dress.”

  “Couldn’t you get one? I’d offer one, but… I’m not saying that to be mean. Promise.”

  I kick at an invisible spot on the floor. “No offense taken.”

  “Will you think about it at least?” Nate asks.

  “Triple P! You’re making me late! I gotta get Tiffany home before her parents go ballistic!” Brent yells.

  “Okay. I’ll consider it,” I say, making my way towards Brent and Tiffany. Whitney claps excitedly while Nate grins. Part of me wants to go, a bigger part of me knows that it won’t happen even if I want to go. Where am I going to get a dress? Shoes? The other girls get their hair and makeup done. I can’t afford any of that. It would be really nice to have at least one high school dance under my belt before graduation. Is there a way?

  Brent drops off Tiffany first because of her parental issue, and I’m still in deep thought when he stops his truck in front of my place.

  “Don’t think too hard, or brains might seep from your ears.”

  “Huh?” I snap out of it to look at him.

  “You’re thinking too hard. Stop. What the hell’s rolling through that head of yours, anyway?”

  I reach for the door handle, but Brent stops me. “It’s nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  I laugh. “Why should I?”

  “Why not?” I give him a stare. “Okay, point taken. Tell me and this will be one of those off-limits-to-picking conversations we sometimes have.” I have no reason to doubt him. He’s right. We occasionally open up to each other about things we wouldn’t dare tell anyone else, then we drop it and go on like it never happened. It’s just something we do.

  “I was told I should go to the homecoming dance. I want to go, but can’t because I’m always working the weekends. No dances, no games, none of the fun stuff all the other kids who don’t have to work to support their households get to do.”

  “You haven’t been to any games this season?” he asks.

  “I haven’t been to any games ever.” His eyes widen at my confession.

  “What! How can you be in high school and never go to a football game?”

  “Did you not hear me about working?”

  “I’ll talk to Trevor, and he’ll give you the time off. No problem.”

  “Big problem. No work, no pay.”

  “It’ll be paid time off. You deserve it. You bust your ass, and he knows it.”

  I drop my head back on the rest. “I really appreciate that, Brent, but it still leaves me with another problem.”

  “Spill it.”

  “It’s nothing you can help with, really. I appreciate that you want to help me.”

  “Well, whatever it is, maybe it will work itself out. I’m still going to talk to Trevor, so I hope at the very least you’ll come to the game. It would be a shame to graduate with never having gone to one.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “Good, now get out of my truck.”

  “Thanks for the ride, loser.”

  “There’s only one loser in this truck, and it ain’t me, honey.”
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  “See ya, Brent.” After a flick of his hand, he’s off, and I’m left standing on the curb. Excitement begins to fill me when I realize I’ll finally be attending an actual game, and it’s thanks to Brent. I get a brief flutter in my stomach. I do occasionally get them after private time with him ever since that night in the movie theater storeroom. I’m not daft enough to think he and I could ever be in a relationship, nor do I really want one with someone like him. Regardless, the butterflies do their thing, and I do my best to ignore them and move on.

  THREE

  A heavy flow of tears falls as the song “I Would Do Anything for Love” by Meatloaf hums through the headphones of my Walkman. Listening to the lyrics is pure torture, and my sobs grow louder as I curl tightly into my pillow. I want someone to feel that way about me. Everywhere I look, love seems to be all around, yet it completely alludes me.

  Thinking back to Nate and Whitney’s offer about homecoming, I try imagining this mysterious Howard as my date. Will he take one look at me and laugh? Will he be disgusted? How will he treat me? What if maybe he wants to date me after? Do I take the chance? Without a doubt I would. If he’s half decent, has a pulse, and shows the slightest amount of interest, I’m putty in his hands. Though I’m riddled with uncertainty, it will be nice to do something other than go to school and work, as well as meet someone new. It’s time for me to get a grip! I pull a tissue from the box on my dresser and blot away the tears. Even though I’ve come around to the idea of going, there’s still one major problem. What am I supposed to wear? I’ll need a dress, and I definitely don’t have anything suitable. No way can I afford a new dress. With a heavy sigh, I roll to face the wall where I zone out until it’s time to cook supper.

  A couple of hours later, I’m cleaning the mess in the kitchen when I hear Mom’s key turning in the lock.

  “Hi, baby.” She kisses my cheek in greeting, then drapes her coat over a chair.

  “You look tired, Mom.”

  “Yeah, fourth twelve-hour day in a row. It’s just an eight-hour shift tomorrow, though.” She desperately needs a day off; I wish we didn’t struggle so hard. Brent, Nate, and Whitney are lucky their parents are so wealthy.

  “Do you want me to make you a sandwich, Mom?”

  She slumps into a chair, pulling off a shoe to rub away the aches caused from standing all day. “Thanks, that would be great.”

  My mom’s eyes are fixed on my every move as I slowly spread mayo across the bread. “Baby, are you okay? You seem a little down.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” I layer turkey, cheese, and lettuce between the bread, then pass it to her before taking a seat.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. It looks delicious.” She smiles while reaching across to push a wave of hair behind my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem sad.”

  I’m still emotional and confused about my feelings, so I decide to ask the question I’ve been pondering lately. “Do you regret having me, Mom?”

  “What!” Her response is so high-pitched it comes out as a squeak. “Why would you ask that, Mallory?”

  “Because you have to work so hard to provide for me. If it were just you, or if my father would help you, then you wouldn’t be wasting your life away at work.”

  She looks genuinely stunned. “Mallory, come here.” She holds out her hand to show I should take the seat next to her. I place the sandwich on the table, and though I do as she asks, I refuse to look at her. Her hand covers mine.

  “Look at me, please.” Though it takes a while, I finally lift my eyes to meet hers. “I regret nothing when it comes to having you as my daughter, Mallory. The only regret I have is that I’m not able to provide as good for us as I’d like. I miss you when I’m working, and you’re always on my mind. I want you to listen, and I want you to listen well, the road to forever might be broken, but even so, it’s well worth traveling. I consider myself blessed to have you, and I love you with all my heart. You’re my world, Mallory.”

  I dash away the tear that spills down my cheek. “Thank you, Mom. I love you, too.”

  “So, what’s brought on this train of thought?”

  “Just overthinking things, I guess.”

  “Well, stop that,” she says with a chuckle.

  “I will if you eat.”

  Sighing, she lifts the sandwich to her mouth and takes a large bite. “Fine. Happy?” she mutters.

  “Ewww, don’t talk with your mouth full.” I laugh at the ridiculousness of her hamster-like cheeks filled with food. Mom always knows what it takes to make me smile.

  After swallowing the next bite, she clears her throat. “Mallory, there’s something else I’d like to talk to you about.” That’s not something I hear often, and my stomach fills with dread. Mentally, I begin thinking back over things I may have done that I shouldn’t have, but come up with nothing. Maybe Trevor told her about all the popcorn I’d been eating! Crap, I hope he didn’t give her a bill. “Are you going to the homecoming dance? I know it’s coming up, and you haven’t mentioned anything about it.”

  “Huh?” That’s the last thing I expect.

  “It’s next week isn’t it?” I nod, and she continues. “It’s your senior year, Mal. Please, tell me you’re going to this one.”

  “I could possibly have a date, but I’m still unsure about it.” How am I supposed to ask her for money to purchase a dress I’ll probably only wear once when I know how little she gets for her hard work?

  Her face lights up. “You’ve got a date! A boy asked you?”

  “Not officially. Nate, from school, it’s his cousin. He’s going to be in town, and since they can’t very well leave him behind, Nate and Whitney thought I could go with him.”

  Her brow creases. “Isn’t he that star football player? I suppose that makes Whitney his cheerleader girlfriend? At least that’s how it would’ve worked when I was in school. Since when do you hang around people like them?” I had been smiling, but my face drops, and she notices. “Forget I said anything. Doesn’t matter. So, you’ll need a dress then?”

  “Oh, Mom, I don’t think I’m going to go.”

  She lifts her hand. “Hold on. Stay right there. Don’t move.” She goes to her bedroom, and not long after, returns with an envelope which she offers to me. I look at it as if it’s laced with cyanide. Laughing, she thrusts it towards me. “Take it.”

  Mom takes her seat, clapping her hands together while eagerly watching me. Carefully, I tear a corner and see a twenty-dollar bill poking through. After counting the cash, I stare in disbelief at the fanned out bills on the kitchen table. “Mom, this is one hundred and fifty dollars!”

  “You remember when I worked overtime to cover a big bill? Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. I was hoping you’d go to homecoming this year, so I took some extra shifts and saved up.”

  “I can’t take this, Mom. It’s far too much money. Spending it on a dress will be a waste…”

  “No.” She’s firm, speaking with a tone only a mom can use. All business, and currently it’s being used at full force. “You don’t need to worry about the money. It’s from overtime, so it’s extra.” She tightly grips my hands. “Please, you work hard, too. Let me do this for you; I want you to have some fun. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  I hesitate a little longer, but her eager expression makes me realize accepting it would truly make her happy. I fling my arms around her neck. “Thanks, Mom.” She squeezes me tightly, and the tears I’ve been trying to hold at bay finally escape.

  ***

  The fact is, big girls are quite limited as far as dress options go at the local stores. Disheartened before the shopping officially begins, I find myself standing outside of a small, family-run boutique. I yearn for one of those mother/daughter bonding moments often seen on TV, but my mom is working, yet again. The reason I pick this shop is because though the prices can be super expensive, they are known to have a killer clearance rack. Plus, they are one of the few shops inclusive of my size range.


  Once inside, I figure there’s no point in depressing myself by looking at the smaller fashions, and I make my way to the secluded plus-sized section at the far back of the store. As I round a corner, I’m faced with an aquamarine gown with puffed sleeves and a huge bow on the ass.

  “Whoa!” The arm holding the dress lowers, and I’m standing in front of a flustered shop assistant, Whitney, and Tiffany.

  “Mallory?” Whitney takes a step forward, and all chance of escape is lost. “Oh. My. Gosh! Please, tell me you’re shopping for a homecoming dress!” Her voice is shrill as she bounces excitedly.

  “Umm...”

  Her squeals grow louder. “And of course you’re going with Howard!”

  “Umm...”

  Whitney claps her hands together. “Did you hear that Tiffany? Mallory’s going to homecoming with Howard! Nate will be so happy.”

  “Yeah, totally great news. Whoopadee doo.” Tiffany sounds bored as she inspects another brightly-colored dress the assistant holds up for her. “Do you even have a section for…” Tiffany yelps when Whitney jabs her elbow into her arm. “What’s your damage? I was just going to say bigger girls. Violent much?” Tiffany says, rubbing the sore spot.

  “Quit being a baby, Tiff. Mallory, you’ll love Howard. He’s a total sweetheart,” Whitney insists.

  “What. Ever. Let’s do this,” Tiffany says with a huff. “Look, what’s the best dress for her, you know, shape and stuff?” Tiffany pushes past me to ask the attendant.

  “Uh, Tiff. It’s totally not our place to pick it for her. Like, she can ask our opinion if she wants, but let the girl at least have a look first.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can help if you want,” I say.

  “Sweet! No offense, but you are in desperate need of a beauty overhaul. Fashion sense? Uh. Zero.” Tiffany waggles her finger up and down.