by Gina Calanni
I nod. “Yes, to you, but not necessarily to others… people have a type and I’m just not sure that I’m yours and I…”
“Sahara, stop. You are my type. You are more than my type. You are my everything. Listen. My dad… I don’t want to talk about him but he married my mom and she was like you: beautiful, sweet, wholesome, and… anyways… I guess I see you as someone my mom would have been proud of.” He squeezes my thigh. But it’s not warm. It’s cold.
“It warms my heart to hear that you think your mama would like me, but Brandon, you can’t be using her as a reference point in your relationships… even I know that and I’m not even that sophisticated in these things.” I bite my lip. “I think you should consider everything and decide if I’m really someone you want to be with or if it’s just about the idea of me and your mom and things of that nature. Okay?” I glance down and Brandon tips up my chin.
“I will because you asked, but I already know my answer.” His lips brush over mine and we get back on the road. At Ms. Myra’s, I exit the truck and somberly make my way to the door. I am out of sorts and out of touch with reality. I’m not sure where we are headed now, or where we were even headed to begin with, if that was even an option.
The truck is shiny and clean as Brandon drives away from Ms. Myra’s house. I step away from the window and jump as I see Ms. Myra staring at me. It’s like the whole world is staring at me and especially when I’m around Brandon. Are they seeing something I’m not? Or am I too consumed with my own feelings to let go of past doubts and really embrace the idea that this could be something wonderful? I don’t want to be barbwired by skepticism. I’d rather fall into a pond of nothingness than duck down and slither around on my stomach in life trying to make sure I don’t make any wrong moves. Or end up on the doorstep of love not knowing whether I should jump over the rope or under the wire. I can’t be calculating. That’s not how I’m made.
I can scrutinize the precise amount of vanilla to peanut butter cup ratio but not the right amount of way to act around a guy. I just don’t have a clue. And obviously book smarts is not my forte, since I’m in over my head in debt for a degree that is probably about as real as Ms. Marlene’s eyebrows drawn on by a sharpie pen. My mama always would say, bless her heart, she’s just trying to reach out and show everyone how she feels.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.”
“I suppose it’s hard to see anything when you’re in that deep.” Ms. Myra stands up from her rocker and walks to the kitchen. I follow behind her. I ought to see if I should make dinner for us tonight and make sure she is getting her rest.
“Would you like me to make dinner tonight? I’m not a great cook, but I can whip us up something.” I place my purse on the counter.
“I haven’t got much of an appetite, but I’ll sit with you.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I haven’t seen Ms. Myra eat in I don’t know how long. I can’t force the issue… but lord knows I want to. What can I do? Except bite my tongue and mind my manners, as my mama would say. But at what point is a person supposed to not bite their tongue? And speak up to let another person know that they are there and seeing them… and caring for them? Shouldn’t Ms. Myra know that I’m aware of her illness, whatever it is, and that I don’t want her to be alone in her thoughts or pain, whatever is going on? I just don’t know what to do. This is something I obviously wasn’t taught but it’s something that is aching deep inside of me and rising up and saying, Sahara, you can’t remain in silence forever. At some point, you’ve got to speak up. And it’s not just about Ms. Myra. It’s about everything. When I left Mexia, I left behind a bucket of insecurity and scooped up all my dreams and packed them to ride next to me, not to backseat them. No. I want the full course. The dream of being something more than a girl scooping up temporary dreams of tasty treats on a summer afternoons. I want more than to deliver an escape to others. I want to taste the magic of my own dreams coming true. I’ve got to settle up the Eagle Online situation and figure out how to make it happen with or without the “degree.” I can do it. I will do it.
“I’m fine, Sahara. Go on and fix yourself some dinner and tell me about this guy.” She pulls out the green kitchen chair and eases into it like her bones might break if she goes any faster.
I open the refrigerator and pull out some hot dogs and carrots. It’s one of my food contributions to the house. Ms. Myra said she would cover all the food, but I can’t expect her to do that. She doesn’t work herself and she is already giving me such a break on the rent. The chore list she’s written up for me is going to be done soon and then what?
“Would you like if I made some chicken noodle soup? I bought some Campbell’s at Brookshire Brothers the other day.”
“Oh, lord, no – that canned stuff is full of salt. Please tell me you won’t ever waste your money on that? I’ll show you how to make a proper chicken noodle soup if you like. But not today. I’m really not up for any food.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I heat up some water on the stove and slice the carrots into circles.
“Now go on, tell me about him.”
“Ah, well, I met him at the factory. He’s in the same training class with me.”
“Right, I know that much. How is he treating you?”
I drop the hot dogs into the boiling water and turn off the cooktop. “Real nice. He’s very sweet to me.” I don’t want to mention the part about how I just gave him a moment, a deep-breath moment, something longer than the sunset, that lasts for more than the life of a bluebonnet in spring. No. That’s for Brandon only. If he… if there is anything there, then he will have to recognize it on his own and be able to see it before a Don’t Mess with Texas sign arises on a barren country highway and a state patrol is waiting on that one cruel person who drops some litter on the road. Nope. Brandon has to be able to recognize all of this on his own, before he even considers dropping his Sonic 44 cup out the window. He has to have it in him to never even raise a glass near the window. Yes. That’s the kind of man I need. One that wouldn’t even get close to the possibility. I take in a deep breath, as if I’ve had some sort of epiphany – and I have, but it’s something I must keep inside.
“That’s good to hear. Have you told your mama about him?”
“No ma’am, I… we don’t talk about things like that.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, why not?” Ms. Myra stands up and puts the tea kettle on the stove.
“I don’t know; she’s never asked me about boys.” I laugh. “Other than telling me to stay away from them.”
Ms. Myra laughs. “Now, she must know that a pretty young thing like yourself is not going to stay away from boys, and they surely aren’t going to stay away from you.”
“Actually, Brandon is the first… is my first boyfriend.” It seems so odd to say boyfriend. It’s like hearing that word come from my mouth makes it real, but is it only real today? What happens tomorrow or the next day? What if he gets tired of me? I take the hot dog out of the water. It’s fully cooked now, just like me. I’m in the hot water of emotions and I hope I don’t get burned.
“Oh, really? That’s surprising, Sahara. Then you must take it slowly and don’t get swept away by your emotions. Ease into things.” She pours herself some water into a cup with her tea bag.
I take a bite of the hot dog and mull it over, along with her bit of advice that I could have used any day prior to today. The day that I didn’t take things slowly and now I am swept away and more afraid than anything.
I swallow my food. “Probably too late for that.” I take a sip of my ice tea. Too sweet.
“You’re still living; it’s not too late. As long as you’re breathing you can always change the course and get on the right path.” She squeezes my shoulders and smooths my hair. My body is filled with warmth.
I don’t remember the last time my mama ever gave me a hug and here Ms. Myra is giving me one all on her own. I turn around and open my arms to her. We embrace and it’s the best feeling. Bei
ng cared about is something indescribable. I swallow back any tears that might have fallen.
She pats my head and takes a step back. “I suppose we both needed that,” Ms. Myra laughs.
I do, too. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”
“No, thank you, Sahara. I was just an old lady living alone and you have brought me so much joy, hearing about your job and experiences. I know you are worried about me, but you don’t need to be. The best thing you can do is keep on living and tell me about it.” Her face is warm and sweet and it’s like Christmas morning for me. Ms. Myra likes me being here. I was so worried she’d want to kick me out as soon as the chore list was done and here she is telling me I make her happy just being around. What an overwhelming day for me.
First Brandon and our magical muddy moment, and now this. I think I had better head to bed before anything bad can change the best day of my life, which is saying a lot as I am twenty-two. Twenty-two years old; I’ve had twenty-two birthday cakes. Twenty-two small moments that were about me and “my special day,” but all the good ones stopped on my tenth. After that, it was more of an afterthought… more like, oh yeah… happy birthday, Sahara, here is a couple bucks, go buy yourself a nice ice-cream cone. I’m tied up with work or something like that.
Here I am in a different situation where Brandon is making it seem like I’m his world, and that he wants me as a permanent fixture in his life, and Ms. Myra is sitting wanting to chat and discuss my life. All these emotions are swirling around me and I’m about to suffocate from the issue at hand. I’ve got to solve the Eagle Online issue tomorrow. If I have to drive up to the corporate office or whatever it is and settle it in person, then I’m going to do it. I need answers, I need a real degree and I need to be able to stand on my own two feet and know that the ground underneath me isn’t built upon a bucket of lies.
Chapter Thirteen
The buzzer goes off and I put my pencil down. I haven’t had to take a scantron test since high school. But apparently Mr. Flints is not keen on change and says scantrons are the easiest way to test his students’ skills. I stand up and take my sheet to the front of the room and drop it in the slotted box. That’s it. If I didn’t get at least an eighty, then I’m out. I got up early this morning to go over my notes one last time. Brandon had texted me asking if he could pick me up this morning, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to think about him and us before the test. I knew it would get me all willy-nilly and loosey-goosey. I exit the classroom and Brandon is resting up against the wall on the opposite side of the hall scanning his phone. He must have finished really early; I never saw him turn in his test.
I take him in. My breath skips a beat and I’m alerted once again to the possibility of no Brandon, no us. I swallow and shake my head. We haven’t talked about my suggestion of Brandon taking some time to think things out. Of course, that hasn’t stopped me from thinking non-stop about him and his hands and his arms around me. Which is often followed by the fear of him leaving me. I’ve got to gain some confidence in this relationship before Brandon skips out on me for being such a wet blanket of emotions.
“Hey.” I tap his arm with my pen.
“Hey, gorgeous, how did you do?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Hopefully above an eighty.”
Brandon laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a hundred. You hungry?”
“That would be something.” I laugh. “I was a bucket of nerves this morning and didn’t eat, but now my stomach is twinging every which way.”
“We can’t have that. Come on, let’s go out and come back later to check the results.” Brandon reaches for my hand and guides me out of the building and out to the parking lot. As soon as we are near his truck he kisses me. Our lips meet like we’ve been going through withdrawals or something. And I know I kind of have as I’ve been thinking about him every single moment, even when I was trying to push him out of my mind so I could focus on the test and my notes this morning.
“Mmm… it’s been too long since I kissed your sweet lips.” Brandon runs his fingers through my hair.
Fireballs burst along my neckline. He makes me so hot and my heart hurts so bad it wants to burst.
“Brandon… you are too much.”
“Not possible.” He leans in and kisses me again. If he weren’t holding me in his arms I would surely fall. I’ve never experienced this kind of emotion, these kinds of feelings. His words, his arms, his everything make me so nervous. I’m so afraid. I’m trying to follow Ms. Myra’s advice and not let my feelings get swept away but I can’t help it. Here with him, in his arms, his sweet, tender words warm me a thousand times over. I know in this moment that I won’t ever experience this same thing with another man. Ever.
“You all right?” Brandon picks up my chin.
I nod and blink off any might-be tears.
“You sure? Is everything all right with Ms. Myra?” He is studying my face trying to figure out the pain, I’m sure, but he doesn’t realize it’s him. He is so sweet and everything I could ever have even dreamed of, which makes it so much harder than I thought possible, the idea of him not being with me forever. We have only just begun to date and all I can think about is, what will I do if he leaves me?
Brandon opens the truck door for me to climb in and try to pull myself together. I can’t be a dribbling fool in front of him. I’ve got to be better than that. I can do it. I’ll try my best.
“After we get our scores, I want to take you out some place special to celebrate.” Brandon glances at me.
I scrunch up my eyebrows. “Let’s not put the horse before the buggy; I might not have anything to celebrate.”
“Right, so, anyways, let’s grab a quick bite now. Then we’ll swing back to see the scores and I’ll drop you by your house so you can get ready.”
“I have my car here.”
Brandon sighs. “That’s right. Why didn’t you answer me this morning?”
It’s my turn to take in a deep breath. “I thought it would be best if I didn’t see you prior to the test.” I nod.
“Why’s that?”
My eyes hurt from straining. He can’t seriously not know the effect he has on me. I’m a bowl of mush around him. “Brandon, you… you… I just needed to be able to focus.”
A foxy grin covers Brandon’s face. “Understood.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Except, see, I’m the opposite. I think I would have done better on the test if I had kissed those sweet lips of yours before I sat down at my desk this morning.”
My cheeks are like the bonfire at the end of school. It’s hotter than sitting next to it in the heat of the Texas summer.
Brandon parks in front of Dairy Queen.
I slump my shoulders. Why would he bring us here? Is this a joke? Does he think I’m a joke? Maybe this is a sick way of breaking up with me at my old job, now that he’ll be moving on in the company to an executive role or something. Or it’s his way of letting me know how he feels in regards to our last conversation. He is dropping me off here… Brandon is literally kicking me to the curb in front of Dairy Queen. I can’t even believe it. Every bit of my breakfast has risen up in my throat and I’m about to be sicker than a dog that ate the chocolate yule log at Christmas. I do my best to take in a deep breath as if I can push down the sickness that is gurgling deep inside me and rising up like a tsunami wanting to make the five o’clock news on all stations.
Brandon’s eyes run over me like he is enjoying the last moments of summer at his beach house. He inspects my face. “I thought it would be monumental to eat at Dairy Queen so you could officially kiss it goodbye.”
I raise up my shoulders; I’m tighter than a bungee rope. This doesn’t make sense to me. I already said goodbye to Dairy Queen when I quit. I don’t need to do it again.
“Sahara? I thought it would be kind of funny, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine; there’s a million other places close by.”
“Funny? Do you think I’m a joke? Is that what this is? You consid
ered what I was saying and thought it would be best to break up or whatever this is here at Dairy Queen?” I blurt it out before I can control myself.
“What? No. Sahara, I thought you would think it’s funny with me. You and me together, laughing together about saying goodbye to your old ice-cream spot since you will be moving into your new position at Blue Ribbon.” He runs his hand through his hair and backs out of the parking spot. “I would never make fun of you.” His lips form two straight lines and I can’t imagine drizzling hot chocolate over them to even try to make them split. This is not good.
I reach for his hand. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go in. They do make good chili fries; I’m sure you would like them.”
“No, I don’t want to go anywhere that you don’t want to be.” Brandon stares at my face. His eyes are full of concern. I know now he wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings. Just my darn insecurities getting the best of me again. He might in fact be the man that I need. He’s definitely the man that I want.
“No, it’s funny.” I fake a laugh. “Let’s go… might do you good to see how the other half lives.” I let out a real laugh this time.
Brandon rolls his eyes and grins at me. “Please, guide the way… Ms. DQ.”
Brandon kisses my lips and presses the unlock button on my seat belt. He’s so ready to guide me away from all my fears. Like he wants me to release all of them. But I keep holding back. All these years of keeping everything in; this is something so different than anything I’ve ever experienced. Brandon seems set on me but yet he is so carefree. Maybe he thinks he wants me but that’s just until he finds somebody new. Maybe he isn’t serious about me. Maybe he is just happy no matter what or who he is with. His smile is always shining like he won the lotto. His stroll is one without concern. He’s always pushing me to let go and not hold everything in. But we’re like two different hemispheres. I’m the northern half, all cold and frozen. And he’s shining down on me with his warm rays and melting me daily. I’ve got a bucket of worries and only one scoop. I’m afraid to let it go.
