by Gina Calanni
“Brandon, we can’t do this here.” I step back.
He leans down and kisses me again. “I know. Let me take you out to lunch, okay?” He kisses my head. “I’ll come by your desk a bit later.”
“Okay.” He turns and dashes up the stairs and I follow him with my eyes until I hear the door from the top floor close. I pat my hair down and wipe around my mouth. I should probably check myself out in the bathroom mirror. I don’t want to look like a disheveled mess while I’m trying to think of new flavors. If I were to make a flavor for the stairway it would be called New Heights and it would be strawberry, angel food cake and little sprinkles of red-colored sugar, and then I would have tiny threads of chocolate fudge laced through it.
I slide back in through the door and stalk into the bathroom. Ms. Mary is in the bathroom; I pass by her and head into a stall. I don’t want another discussion about Brandon, especially not now.
“Sahara is it?” she calls out to me.
I gulp. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I saw you with the Blue Ribbon boy again. You make sure you’re careful, you hear?”
I squint up my eyes and flush the toilet. I make my way to the sink and wash my hands.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you know something that I don’t?”
“Well, you know now that he is Richard Blue’s son, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well then, just be careful. You don’t seem to be one of those wealthy girls he might be used to dating and you seem like a nice girl and I would hate to see you crying. That’s all.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be careful.”
I exit the bathroom. That was odder than a pair of pants over the top of a skirt in the middle of winter. One time I saw our neighbor, Mrs. Jackson, do that and my mama told me to look away. I’m not sure what the reason was but it was the middle of the day so I’m not sure if she had hit the bottle a little early or was just cold.
Back in the flavor creation area I grab another bowl. I’m going to make an ice-cream flavor for Brandon. I grab the blueberries and white cake batter chunks and begin mixing them. My cell phone rings from my purse. Shoot, I meant to put that on vibrate. I quickly answer it.
“Sahara Smith?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This is Mallory Mathews from Eagle Online billing and payment center. Are you ready to make a payment?”
“Um, not at the moment. Can I call you after I get home from work?”
“That’s fine, but have your checkbook ready. Your current balance is $55,012. 82.”
I jerk my head back. “Now hold on a second, I thought I only owed five thousand dollars.”
“No, Ms. Smith, your balance is fifty-five thousand and each day you put off paying us we add on a calculated late fee and compounded interest.”
“Okay, um, I will call you as soon as my shift… my work day is over.”
I don’t work shifts anymore, I’m in a proper job now. I’ve got to get that clear in my head. But, shoot, what in the world am I going to do? I don’t have fifty-five thousand dollars. That will take me my whole life to pay off. This position is paying more than twice what I was making at Dairy Queen but it’s not the kind of salary to be able to pay off that kind of money. There must be some sort of error or something. I wouldn’t have signed up for Eagle Online if I’d known it was going to put me in debt forever. I gulp. No wonder my mama was so upset. I would be upset, too. Shoot, I am upset. My stomach flip-flops over and over and I think I’m going to get green here at my desk. I rush back to the bathroom and head for the nearest stall.
I empty out my stomach into the commode until I’ve got nothing left but dry, heaving nonsense. Mind over matter, that’s what my mama would say. I’ve got to think myself out of this sickness. Sahara, you’ve done emptied your insides; there is nothing more to give. You just got to stand up and put your big girl panties on and go back out there and finish your work. You will get out of this. You have to.
I pat my hair down in the mirror and wash out my mouth with the sink water. I stare at myself in the mirror. How could I be so stupid? Why? Why would I do this? My shoulders slump lower than a caterpillar scooting across a green leaf. I can’t believe I’ve gone and messed up so bad. How could I have misread the numbers? It must be mistake. It’s got to be. Otherwise I’m in a bad, bad situation.
I roll my lips and walk back into the hallway. Mary grips my arm.
“Hun, are you all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, just got some bad news.” I blink, as if bad could really describe my situation. I’m deeper in debt than if I went on a wild, cross-country spending spree and I don’t know how I’ll ever get out. Nor do I have anything to show for it. I can keep my job only because determining whether my degree is real will take years, but it has downright bankrupted me before I even get my first paycheck. I could take a night job or something, I suppose. But then I’d never see Brandon or Ms. Myra. The idea of not seeing either of them pangs at my stomach and I’m sicker than a dog all over again. I’ve got to get myself together and settle down.
“If you need to talk, I’ve got two ears and one closed mouth.” She nods.
“Thank you, Ms. Mary, I appreciate that.”
“All right, back to work.” Ms. Mary squeezes my shoulder and I squeeze back into the creation station center. I glide to the shared computer that is situated on a large, L-shaped table. At Dairy Queen I didn’t so much as have a desk. Then again, why would I? My job consisted of ringing up customers or frying an assortment of food, and of course scooping ice cream. The wrong way! Ha, I laugh at myself.
I wish I could laugh my debt away. What am I going to do? My insides are curling up into little balls of fear. I’m supposed to meet Brandon for lunch. But I can’t face him right now. I need to figure out how to handle this situation. I’m in over my head. My mama was right, and I can’t believe how wrong I have been… this is so bad. So bad.
Chapter Seventeen
At lunch I rush home and boot up my computer to see if I can find anything about what my classes were supposed to cost. I know that I overlook things and make mistakes all the time, but I have never made a fifty-thousand-dollar error. I scan over all my emails from Eagle Online. I kept them in a folder in my Gmail account labeled Ticket Out of Here. Maybe I should have labeled it Ticket to Debt. I read through every last one of them and find nothing. Absolutely nothing about how much my tuition was. How could this be?
I reach for my phone and Brandon’s number is vibrating back and forth in my hand. Shoot. He is probably wondering where I am. But I can’t see him. Not now. Not with this. I might have to disappear, period. I can’t imagine how I will pay back fifty-five thousand dollars. What if I lose my job at Blue Ribbon?
I sigh. I can’t talk to him. I can’t. I’m so embarrassed. I’m like a big dumb idiot. This is what my mama warned me about and I didn’t listen. Nope. I thought I could be somebody and do something with my life. Get out of Mexia and be paid for my flavor creations and not scooping ice cream forever. My eyes tear up. My vision is beyond impaired. Everything is blurry. I’m in a mixed-up puddle of blues and greys and not sure where my oar is or how to paddle myself to the shore.
Brandon’s number is vibrating again in my hand. I can’t. I just can’t. I slump down on the floor in my bedroom. The bedroom that probably won’t be mine much longer. Ms. Myra surely won’t want a big idiot like me living here. Especially if I lose my job. Tears are streaming down my face. And I let them fall. I’m in deep, deep trouble. I don’t know what to do. I have nobody to turn to. Nobody to help me. My mama doesn’t have that kind of money and even if she did she wouldn’t fork it over to me for my mistakes. No siree, she would tell me to pull up my britches and figure it out. I swallow. The big ball of foolish mistakes of Sahara doesn’t want to go down and I can’t breathe. Is it possible to drown without any water?
“Hey there, Sahara, you’re home from work early.”
I jolt back and eye Ms. Myra, standing
in my doorway. She’s holding on to the sides of the doorframe like she’s going to fall to the floor. Her face is grey and sinking in. I know she is sick. I can’t hold back my tears. They fall down my face and she rushes over to me and stumbles.
I hop up and grab her.
“Ms. Myra, are you all right?” I grasp onto her elbows; they are like bones from after you picked the meat off at Thanksgiving.
“Yes, Sahara, I’m fine. But what is going on with you?”
I lead her to my bed and help her sit down.
“Nothing, ma’am. I’m fine.”
“Sahara, don’t you trust me by now?” She squeezes my hand as if she is urging me to speak and not to hold it in. Obviously I’m upset, and she is wanting me to be honest. And I’m not sure if this is the moment I should be real, given her situation. How can I let out my bucket of tears when she is barely able to hold her head up?
I nod. “Of course, ma’am. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out.”
“Right, well then, don’t give me that everything is fine line when tears are streaming down your face.”
I wipe under my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, go on, tell me.” She pats the bed for me to sit. “Is it the Blue Ribbon boy?”
“No, though I didn’t know he was the Blue Ribbon boy.”
She laughs. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he said his daddy said it was best to keep it a secret during the training.” I tuck some of my hair behind my ear and sit on the bed.
“Right, well, now you know, what’s the problem?” Ms. Myra’s eyes run over my face like she is able to read past my words and dig deeper.
“You heard my mama talking about Eagle Online yesterday?”
“Yes, a little bit.” She nods and purses her lips. A crease folds over her forehead, one I’ve never encountered with her before. Given Ms. Myra’s never had a worried expression, I’ve got to assume it’s more than a little bit.
“Well, it seems I signed up for some scam school and I don’t even know if my degree is legitimate, and worse, I thought I owed five thousand and somehow I owe fifty-five thousand dollars.” I swallow hard. The lump of debt in the back of my throat doesn’t budge, just like that darn decimal point that I messed up on big.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I glance at her. “No matter what, I’ll still be able to pay my rent here. The garnishment won’t take out more than my monthly expenses. I read that online.” My shoulders slump further, to a place of despair. “I probably should have read more before I signed up with them.” Tears fill my eyes. “I just was so excited about the opportunity.”
Ms. Myra pulls me into her arms and brushes my hair with her hands. “There now, you didn’t know. I’ve heard about Eagle Online. Sahara, you aren’t the first person to have problems with them.”
“I know… but now I’m in deep.” Tears trickle down my face.
“We’ll figure something out. You should go run some water over your face and get back to work. Blue Ribbon will still want you as an employee with or without your Eagle Online degree.”
I take in a deep breath. “You think so?”
“Of course, Sahara. You’re a smart girl. You’re a valuable asset to that company. Remember, you got a ninety-two on the exam. That was all you.” She squeezes my shoulders in tight. It’s more of a grip than I would think is possible for her small frame.
I stand up. “Thank you, Ms. Myra… I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”
“Hush now, you’re going to make me blush.” Ms. Myra tries to stand up but falls back. “If you don’t mind, I think I might just take a rest here in your bed for a little bit.”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.” I lean down and hug her. It seems so natural to do. Yet, not anything I’m used to. But she hugs me back, a hug that is even stronger than the one before. It’s like she is pushing past her difficulties to reach out and comfort me more than I’ve ever been in my whole life. All of her efforts make it even better. I leave her on my bed resting and wash my face clear of any mascara lines, then I reapply and dash out the front door.
“Brandon!”
“Hey, are you all right?” He’s standing at the bottom of Ms. Myra’s porch. Like a scene out of a movie or something. His business attire set against the backdrop of Ms. Myra’s big oak trees and shiny green lawn looks out of place. I meet his dreamy blues that are full of concern. For me?
“Yes, I’m sorry. I had to take care of something and –”
Brandon pulls me in close and kisses my head. “I thought you had changed your mind. Sahara, you scared me there.”
I laugh. “Scared you? Is that even possible?” I inspect his face and his eyes are clear from his normal sparkling blues. They are full of sweetness, staring me down, filling me in on all his thoughts and his emotions. I think I might just have worried him. Is Brandon worried about losing me? Me? I jump into his arms and our lips meet. I crash into him. He holds me up and our kiss goes into a land I’ve never been before. A land of mutual love.
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of my work week goes about as good as I think it can for the first week as flavor developer at Blue Ribbon. I make three more flavors. I’m not sure how or why, but my days have gone from down in the dirt to soaring up in the sky. And not like a kite, but like a spaceship. I am out of orbit with zero gravity and no plan on landing anytime soon.
Apparently, the top executives and marketing all tried my flavor of the summer and there were talks of me being promoted to a tier-one product developer. This has never happened in Blue Ribbon history and it is happening to me, Sahara Smith. On my first week on the job. I can’t even believe it. I make my way down to the human resources department so I can sign the acceptance papers. Right as I go to knock on the door, my cell phone vibrates from my pocket. Of course, Eagle Online.
“Hey there, can I call you back? I’m at work.”
“Right, this is Mary Anne from Eagle Online and I wanted to let you know that I got your phone messages and I checked into your account balance and it appears that it has been paid.”
“What?” Am I hearing this right? I glance back at the phone. It’s Eagle Online calling me for sure. But how is this possible?
“This is Sahara Smith, right?”
I nod my head as if Mary Anne can see me saying yes with my motions instead of my voice. An older woman with white fluffy hair opens up the door. “Sahara Smith, come on in, sugar. You sure are making a name for yourself here.”
I smile and wave one second, which I know is about as rude as talking with your mouth full of Christmas cake in front of the preacher’s family. But I also can’t simply hang up on Mary Anne.
“Mary Anne, I’ll have to call you back. I’m sorry.”
I clear my throat and face the woman. “Thank you, ma’am.” I follow behind her and sit down in front of her desk that is covered with stacks of papers. She clicks on her computer and then reaches for a pen.
“Here you go; check out the offer letter and if it looks good to you go ahead and sign at the bottom.”
On any other day I would skim through the offer letter but given my current situation, which is filled with a huge pile of debt, I read through each word and make sure I understand what is being said in the letter and what I’m about to sign up for. What type of situation I’m putting myself in. I need to be more careful and this letter is my first step. I read the last paragraph five times. I count five because that’s one of the numbers that has changed in my salary. I blink a few more times and take in the paragraph one more time. I am perplexed. I’m about to be sick like a duck that got stuck in tar and my feathers are falling around me. I don’t understand. I get that I’m being promoted but this isn’t like a raise. This is like I’m being paid double. How can this be real? Maybe this is one of those reality show programs? I peak around the room for a video camera. I see one in the back corner. Aha. Well, now I understand.
“What’s that, sugar?”
I turn and point to the video camera. “Is that for a TV program?”
She laughs. “No, sugar, that’s just for security purposes. Did you have any other questions?”
I clear my throat and point at the number on the paper. “Is this number right?”
She peers at the paper. “Sugar, I just take what the executives tell me and put it there. If you want to negotiate you’ll need to set up a meeting.”
I let out a giggle. Negotiate? What in the world would I be negotiating? Which room to lock me up in because I really can’t believe those numbers. I let out a sigh.
“Sugar, do you want me to set up a meeting?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I’ll sign.” Sign this line that I don’t get, but sure I’ll sign. Who wouldn’t sign? I’m not the brightest flower in the field but when something good crosses my path I don’t step around it. I scoop it up and try and keep it. Just like Brandon. Brandon. Did he do this? Did he find out about my debt? Oh shoot, that’s right; he heard my mama telling me about it. This must be the reason. I put the pen down. I might not turn away a great thing but I for sure will not accept a handout.
“Ma’am, I do need to schedule a meeting. Could you please set one up with Brandon Rollins?”
“Sure, sugar, what time?” She glances at her computer.
“As soon as possible.”
She waves a one finger hold at me and picks up the phone. “Yes, Brandon, I’ve got a Sahara Smith.” A pause. “Right now? Okay then.”
The phone hits the receiver and she glances at me. “He’ll see you right now. His office is the seventh on the right in the hallway.”
My eyes squint together and I take in a deep breath. I can do this. I nod and thank her. Brandon was so close yet he seemed so far away. How could he do that to me? I shake my head. No. I’ll find out for sure first before I jump to conclusions. There is no jump to conclusion mat after all for me to step on. This isn’t a movie. This is real. This is my life and my heart and I need to make sure I’m not making any more mistakes.
