by S. M. Shade
My first thought is her. I want Jani forever, but I’m not ready to be responsible for other people’s lives. She loves me. She’ll want to move in together which will lead to marriage and buying a house. I don’t even know where I want to live after school is over, or what career line I’ll end up in. And kids. She’s never had much family, just her mother, and if she stays with me, she never will.
That’s what I tell myself.
That’s how I justify ghosting the woman I’ve chased for years. The woman I love and think about every fucking second.
My hand trembles as I type a reply to her message.
Me: Sorry, busy studying
The three dots blink for a bit as if she’s typing a message back, but then disappear. I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling until I hear another beep a few minutes later.
Jani: Are you avoiding me? Are you pissed about something?
Fuck. I’m such a coward. I have to just come out with it before I change my mind.
Me: You didn’t do anything. I just need some space. I think we should take a break.
My heart is being yanked out through my navel, and I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than hit send, but I do. This time her response is much faster.
Jani: Go fuck yourself.
I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, thinking about her all alone in her apartment right down the street. Her front door is closed when I drive past on my way to work the next morning, and I wonder if she’s sleeping. Is she thinking about me? Is she hurting and missing me or planning my violent death?
Ed, the video editor waves from his booth when I walk in the studio to begin my second week of work. This job is definitely better than my last, but it’s not what I expected. They chose me for my major in meteorology, but all I’m ever asked to do is run errands for the other employees. I don’t know why I need a background in climate science to make coffee and answer phones.
“Noble!” Ed calls, popping out of his booth and making his way over to me. “Who farted on your Pop-Tart this morning?”
“What?” My mind was elsewhere, as usual. Ed is a weird guy, but I like weird people. They’re usually the most fun. Until they start talking about farting on a Pop-Tart.
“You look like you lost your best friend. Is everything okay?”
No, everything is shit, and I don’t know how it got to this point. “I’m fine. Cream and no sugar, right?” I mumble, starting down the hall to the break room.
“Stop.” He grabs my arm. “I’ve already got a coffee. Harrison is looking for you.”
Great. If the producer wants to talk to a lowly student intern, I can’t imagine it’s great news. Maybe I’m not cut out to be their coffee gopher after all. “Great, thanks.”
Harrison’s office door is ajar, and I barely have the time to tap on it before he barks, “Come in.”
I’ve only met Harrison once when the assistant producer was showing me around. He’s almost as wide as the doorway and if any of it is muscle, it’s well hidden by years of donuts and deep-fried Twinkies. He’s been trying to slim down, judging by the chocolate weight loss shakes in the break room fridge, but someone should tell him they don’t work if you add chocolate syrup. Yeah, walked in on that one during my second day.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even glance up from the paperwork on his desk. “The Science Dude just cancelled last minute, and the kids are due here shortly. You need to get ready to take his place.”
What? He can’t be suggesting…
“The supplies are under the weather desk. Set up in room three.”
“I-you want me to do a science experiment with a bunch of kids?”
His eyebrows rise, and he looks up at me. “Science is your field, is it not?”
“Well, yeah, but.” A horrific thought strikes me. “Wait. You don’t mean like, live, on air?”
Sighing, he shuffles some papers around. “Well, I didn’t mean for my own personal entertainment. I realize you haven’t been on air before, but there’s nothing to it. You have an hour to prepare. Just engage the children, let them do the experiment, and smile.”
His tone makes it clear I’m dismissed, so I wander back down the hall. Angie, the assistant producer sees me and bursts out laughing.
“Noble, you look like you’re going to pass out. It isn’t that bad. Come on. I’ll show you.”
She leads me to room three where a three-foot-tall volcano waits. “The Science Dude sent this.”
The paper she hands me has simple step by step instructions of how to make the volcano “erupt” using clear soda, food coloring, and Mentos candy.
“I made a volcano in elementary school once, but used hydrogen peroxide and baking soda,” I mumble, reading the instructions. It seems pretty straightforward, but something tells me doing this with a bunch of kids and a camera pointed at me won’t be simple. I used to want to be a weatherman, but right now I can’t remember why I ever thought it was a good idea.
“Same basic principle, I suppose,” Angie says.
“Well, not really. It’s not a chemical reaction, but a physical one called nucleation. The gas bubbles adhere to the tiny craters in the candy and—”
Angie’s bored off her tits expression cuts my explanation short, and I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, mix the ingredients and the volcano goes boom. Same deal. How many kids are going to be here?”
“Fifteen, but only two have been chosen to help you and ask questions. The others know to keep quiet until the camera is off. Then you can answer any additional questions. The whole segment is only five minutes, and I’ll give you the signal when you need to wrap it up. I sent Heather to get the soda. She should be back any time. Any questions?”
“Can they keep the camera above my waist in case I wet myself?”
Angie laughs and rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine.”
I don’t feel fine. I spend the next hour trying to give myself a pep talk, and rereading the instructions left by the Science Dude. It is very simple, although he’s tried to dress it up a bit for the kids. Instead of just dumping the dyed soda into the top along with a few candies, he’s rigged up a little system.
An empty container sits inside the shell of the volcano, waiting to be filled with soda. The elongated neck of the container should concentrate the flow and make it more forceful. A small makeshift drawer is cut into the side of the plaster so the candy can be introduced. It slides down a chute into the container and voila, it’s a sticky fountain of lava. The entire thing rests in a square, flat container meant to catch the runoff, but I imagine it’s still going to be a bit of a mess.
“Here you go,” Heather, the only other intern says, placing three two-liter bottles of soda on the table beside me. “They didn’t have regular, so I had to get diet.”
“It’s clear. That should be all that matters.” I mumble a quick thank you and proceed to add red food coloring to the bottles. It takes quite a bit to turn the soda red instead of pink, but I have enough. A faint fizzing can be heard as I carefully fill up the container, careful not to drip any “lava” on the outer shell.
They went a little overboard on the candy since the directions call for adding seven or eight candies to the chute, and there’s a bowl with thirty or more waiting to be used.
The sound of many sneakers on tile reaches my ears, along with the murmur of little voices and the shushing of what I assume is a teacher. Oh god.
The kids are here.
I’m not that great with kids, not because I don’t like them, but because I’ve never really been around them. I don’t know how to talk to kids, or at what level they can understand at different ages. I’m an only child so I’ve never had nieces or nephews around, and all my cousins were older than me.
A smiling face appears at the door. “Are you ready for us?” the young woman asks.
No. So much no.
“Come on in,” I call, planting a smile on my face faker than
those grow a bigger dick pill ads you see on the porn sites. Not that I’ve ever tried one. My twenty-first digit is quite satisfactory.
She’s followed by a line of kids around six or seven years old. Wide eyes pan around the room, taking in all of the equipment.
“Hey kids!” I call out. Great, I sound like Krusty the damn Clown. “Are you ready to help me make a huge mess?”
Giggles and nods from the shyer kids are accompanied by louder exclamations of “Yes!” from the others.
Angie returns and shows them each where they need to stand for the camera to make sure they’re all in the shot, then steps back behind the cameraman. Angie explained earlier that they won’t count down to when we go live, because kids tend to be more interested in waving or making faces at the camera than paying attention once they know we’re live.
I’ve pretty much memorized the notes the Science Dude left, so I set them aside and paste on a big smile when the cameraman points at me, letting me know we’re live.
Okay, I can do this. It’s not like this is national television. It’s a local station in a rural area. There’s probably like two farmers and a few bored housewives watching while painting their toenails.
“Okay,” I begin. “Today we’re going to talk about physical and chemical reactions and some of the fun ways we can see them in everyday life.”
That’s all I get out before I’m interrupted by a little boy with a buzzed haircut. “You aren’t the Science Dude!”
“Well, no, I’m not. The Science Dude wasn’t feeling too well today, so I’m—”
“The Science Dude is black. You’re not black,” the same kid announces. When this is over, I’m going to wedgie him. Seriously. I’m not too proud to do it. Maybe even an atomic one.
Ignoring him, I continue, “Right, as I was saying, the Science Dude wasn’t feeling well, so I’m going to show you how cool this is instead.”
“Yeah,” another brat interjects. “The Science Dude has cool hair and he’s black. Why aren’t you?”
What the? Why am I not black? How do I answer that? The clock is ticking and this whole thing has turned into a shit show.
“Because my parents aren’t black.” It’s the simplest explanation I can give.
Their teacher gives the group a severe look which seems to work, at least for the moment, and I’m able to quickly run through the differences between the types of reactions. The two kids who have been chosen to help step up, and I explain what we’re going to do.
“Okay, you can drop the candies into the chute,” I offer, speaking to a little girl in a white dress. “Just count out eight and—”
Too late.
She dumps the whole bowl into the drawer, and I’m pretty sure my job goes rattling down the chute along with them. The result is instantaneous.
A gush of bright red soda erupts, almost reaching the rafters, and rains down on everything. There isn’t one kid, camera, or speck of floor that isn’t doused in the sticky liquid. I’m standing in the middle of a bloodbath surrounded by crying, giggling, squealing kids.
If that isn’t enough of a kick in the taint, my foot slides on the slick floor. I swear, I didn’t mean to take a kid down with me, but, you know, when you start to fall, you grab for anything, and the little girl who caused all this was right there.
In a stunning show of grace, I fall on my ass, pulling her down with me. She’s not hurt, but the white dress will never be the same.
There’s nothing left to lose now. Still sitting on the floor, I face the camera and say, “So, yeah, a prime example of a physical reaction. If you try this at home, I suggest a poncho, and far fewer children. Back to you, Lee.”
Lee, along with the other anchor, are laughing too hard to pick it up, so they toss it to Dean, the weather guy, who manages to give the forecast, though it’s peppered with quite a few chuckles.
The teacher apologizes profusely while Angie and Heather lead the kids down the hall to the restroom to clean up. Yeah, good luck with that. Even a shower may not get it all out, judging by how much coloring I put in.
Defeated, I sit and lean against the wall, a red puddle surrounding me. I’m wondering if the meat department at the supercenter might take me back when Harrison pokes his head in. His husky, smoke choked laugh bounces off the walls.
“Damn boy, I thought the others had to be exaggerating.”
“Afraid not.” Just fire me and get it over with.
“I’ll get janitorial in. You may want to make yourself scarce. They won’t be happy with you. Take the rest of the day off. I got five bucks says you won’t get all that red off.”
My eyebrows jump up and the words fall out of my mouth. “I still have a job?”
Harrison smiles at me. “Why do you think I handed this off to an intern? Fifteen kids and a volcano? No way that was going to run smoothly. I didn’t expect it to look like a scene from Carrie, but still, no one else would’ve done it.”
I drag myself to my feet. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Welcome to the team, kid.” With that, he leaves me to slosh my way out of the building.
I will say one thing for the shitty day I’ve had; it’s the first time since I dropped Jani off that I haven’t thought about her. Epic failures are good for a distraction.
When I push through the studio’s back door, I realize my day isn’t over. Cassidy stands there, her arms crossed, the angry expression on her face evolving into confusion. “What the hell happened to you?”
Shivering, I stalk toward my car and pull my emergency blanket out of the trunk. The same one Jani used after I took her magnet fishing. God, I miss her. “It’s a long story and I’m not in the mood to tell it right now, Cass.”
“I don’t give a shit what you’re in the mood for.”
Doubled over, the blanket should at least protect my car seat from looking like the scene of a massacre.
Cass grabs my arm, pulling me away from the car. “What happened with Jani? She said you stopped calling, then broke up over a text!”
“Then you know what happened,” I mumble, trying to take a step back.
“Don’t give me that smart ass shit. I’m better at it than you.”
Sighing, I reach in and turn the heat on full blast, then gesture to the passenger seat. “Can you at least ream me out where it’s warm?”
I’m grateful my car warms up quickly as the hot air washes over me, taking my shivering with it.
Cass glares at me. “Okay. Explain. Because the look on your face when I mentioned her name tells me you’re hurting just as much as she is.”
My chest tightens at the thought of her suffering because of me. I lean my head back and the words pour out. “It’s too much. School, my job, buying a house, kids. I can’t do it. Not yet.”
“Jani wants a house and kids?” Cassidy exclaims with a blink, her voice incredulous.
“Don’t all women? And I can’t do that. I love being with Jani. I love her. But I feel like I’m trapped in a box with the air slowly being sucked out.”
Cassidy looks at me like I might be brain dead. “Just to clarify, Jani has never mentioned this house and kids you’re so freaked out about?”
“Well, no, but it’s not just that. I have two years of school left and no idea what I’m going to do after. I might never be ready for all that. And Jani deserves those things. She deserves the best.”
Cass sighs and places her hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Noble, your heart’s in the right place, but your head is up your ass.”
Stunned, I gape at her until she continues.
“I don’t know why you suddenly think that—” Her eyes widen as she interrupts herself. “Wait, is this because Wyatt and I got married?”
I shrug and stare out my window. “Married, own your own home, baby on the way. Jani was so happy for you. I want her to have that too.”
Her voice is patient, like she’s talking to a child. “We did those things because we decided together that we were
ready. The same way you and Jani should decide the direction of your relationship together. I get that you’re stressed because of everything on your shoulders now, but that’s life. Suck it up. Your life is no different than it was when you and Jani started dating. You’re worrying over nothing. Did it ever occur to you to ask her what she wants instead of assuming?”
Hmm. She may have a point. Is it all in my head? Did I just stress out and panic for no reason?
“I can’t have kids. Ever. My guys don’t swim.”
The words come out a little easier than I thought they would, considering I’ve never told another person.
Cassidy’s face fills with sympathy. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. But there are always alternatives, and right now, it’s just not an issue.”
I shift in my seat, and look her in the eye. “Do you think she’ll take me back?”
“She loves you.” Her gaze sweeps over me. “But maybe go home and shower before you try. You look like a giant tampon.”
As she climbs out of my car, she bends to add, “Tell her what you told me. All of it. You aren’t the only one who feels adulthood like a leash around your neck.”
“Thanks, Cass.”
“Anytime, dumbass.”
Chapter Ten
January
A reality show blares from the television while I eat my weight in chocolate truffle ice cream. See, this is why I don’t do relationships. I know better. Years of watching Mom brood and suffer over the guy who didn’t love her should’ve taught me better, but here I am, feeling stupid with a broken heart.
Was it because I said I loved him? I mean, he said it first. True, he blurted it out while he was laughing, so maybe that didn’t count. Me saying it back most likely scared him away. It’s probably for the best, anyway. The end was inevitable, and I would’ve only grown more attached.
I knew something wasn’t right a few days after we returned from Hawaii. Noble went from spending every available second with me to making excuses about schoolwork. My mind had been dreaming up all the dirty stuff we could do now that I had the apartment all to myself, and instead, I’m sitting here alone, with reality shows on T.V. because it makes me miss Mom a little less.
