elanie

 

 

 

 

“Melanie, dear, I’ve been meaning to tell you what a fantastic job you did organizing and cleaning last week!” Mrs. Hart smiles at me broadly from the front counter as I enter the antique shop.

“Oh, it wasn’t a big deal.” I shrug, but I’m so glad she’s happy.

“Not a big deal? It’s perfect, and I’ve been wanting to do something similar, but it’s hard at my age to get stuff done. Thank you.”

“Mrs. Hart, you can always ask me to do stuff. I don’t mind.” I set my backpack down next to the counter and glance around the shop. “Are there any other projects you want me to do?”

“Well, if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” She tilts her head and smiles fondly at me. “It’s going to be awfully hard to find someone as wonderful as you to work here when you head to Chicago in the fall.”

“Looks like I won’t be going after all.” I don’t want to talk about it. I wish I could keep it a secret forever. But eventually people will find out, and I’d rather it be sooner than later.

“What are you talking about?” Her soft white forehead crinkles up in confusion.

“Well, you know I got in some trouble at school…”

“I know it wasn’t your fault.” Her eyes stare deeply into mine. She believes in me.

“Anyway, the group that gave me the scholarship found out about it somehow and decided to revoke it. So yeah.” I sigh and look down.

“Melanie.” She steps toward me, taking my hand between her two gentle ones. “I’m so sorry to hear this. Can you appeal? Is there anything you can do?”

I want to crumple onto the floor. I want to cry and let her comfort me. I want some relief from this sense of dread that’s been following me around. But I pull away.

“No. It’s over. It’s all right. I’ll figure something out. Maybe wait a year and then go. See if there are scholarships or financial aid or something.”

She shakes her head, and her eyes are so sad I can’t look at her any longer.

“Look,” I add. “Mr. Hart is probably waiting for you! He worries when you’re late getting home.”

She chuckles. “Even though he knows I’m right downstairs. Now you take care, Melanie. Don’t forget to lock up.”

“I won’t.”

She turns to leave, but as she approaches the stairs to her apartment, she turns. “Remember that things have a way of working out sometimes. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up. Keep your head high.”

I sigh. “It’s hard, but I’m trying.”

She takes a few steps closer. “I have a friend, my best friend from high school, so I’ve known her forever. She’s really irreverent, and I probably shouldn’t repeat what she says. But the advice she likes to give people is to take the world by the balls.”

My eyes open wide. “Mrs. Hart!” I laugh.

She giggles. “I know, I know. But the sentiment is wonderful. Grab the world and make it yours.”

“Thanks. Mrs. Hart, I really appreciate you and Mr. Hart. For giving me a job, and for making me feel comfortable. And confident. I just, you know, want to tell you that.” I blush, unused to expressing myself so openly.

“Melanie, dear, we love you. Now you have a good night, all right?”

I smile at her as she leaves, and as soon as she’s gone my face falls back into its now-permanent frown and I breathe deeply.

The warmth I felt talking to Mrs. Hart is replaced by the pissed-off feeling I’ve had all day. I’m pissed at Principal Evans for getting so involved. I’m pissed at my mom for being my mom.

I’m pissed at Jake for… I can’t even articulate what it is. For caring, but not enough. For being hot, then super cold. I don’t understand him, and I don’t want to need him. But I do. My body and soul feel empty without him around, and that scares me, because I’ve always sworn I’d never rely on anybody. I’d always take care of myself, and I would never need another person.

I turn to the front door when I hear a light scratching on the glass, and my face breaks out into a grin. It’s Molly, her mouth opening in a meow I can’t hear through the door. When I open it, she steps inside, then rubs against my leg, looking up at me and mewling.

“You’re hungry, huh?” I fill bowls with food and water and set them down on the floor. She eats quickly and voraciously, and I smile while she does.

After eating and drinking, she jumps up onto the old armchair I usually sit in, curls up, and goes to sleep. I pet her gently and she rouses slightly and begins to purr. It’s nice not to feel her bones so much, to know I’m helping her survive.

My phone beeps with a text. It’s Sam, Robby’s cousin. Hey, he writes, I’d like to take you out for dinner. Tomorrow work?

Sure. Pick me up at 7? I respond.

I don’t really want to go. I want to be with Jake, at his apartment again. Like it was the first time, when he didn’t know anything about me. When he didn’t think of me as a kid. When I could have maybe had his love, not just his pity.

None of that’s possible, though. So I’ll settle for a little fun instead.

~~~~

When it’s time to close up, Molly doesn’t want to leave. I hold the door open and click my tongue, but all she does is look at me once, then close her eyes again.

“Come on,” I say. “It’s time to go.” But I know the Harts wouldn’t be happy if I let a cat stay overnight, and my mom is allergic so I can’t bring her home. “I’ll be back, OK? Not tomorrow, but the next day, all right?” I know it’s silly to talk to an animal, but I swear she understands me.

When I scoop her up she meows, and it kills me to set her outside on the cracked pavement in front of the store. “You’ll be fine,” I say. But she looks up at me with sad eyes and I want to cry.

I don’t look back as I walk away. And I try not to be disappointed that Jake doesn’t appear in his car, following me home, making sure I’m OK.

~~~~

My mom’s at her computer, a photo of a kitten wearing a knitted hat up on her screen. There’s an open wine bottle near her feet, but in the darkened living room I can’t tell if it’s full or empty, and I don’t know if it’s from last night or tonight.

“Let’s talk, honey.” She turns her chair toward me.

I set my backpack on the floor and sit on the couch.

“How was work?” she asks.

“Fine.”

“That police officer was nice. The one at school? I didn’t know you’d skipped a session of that drug class thing you’re in.”

I shrug. “I was upset. I’d just found out about the scholarship.”

“I’m really sorry that happened.” She pats at the top of her head, where her hair is pulled back into a greasy, bumpy ponytail. It’s weird. Sometimes I look at old photos of her, and she was so pretty. So happy. She was a real person, all those years ago. Now, she doesn’t seem real at all. “That was a good scholarship,” she adds.

“Yeah. So now… I don’t know what I’ll be doing next year.”

“Oh, honey, there’s online colleges, you know. They’re probably not that expensive. You could keep working at the shop, or maybe at the Save Lot if it pays better, and take some classes. Or that community college? It’s only maybe a half hour away. You could go there.”

“Yeah. I could.” I can. And I probably will. But the loss of my bigger dream is still too raw, and hearing her say it like this, so casually, hurts.

“So hey. Can I show you my latest video?” She spins her chair again so she’s facing the computer and presses play in her video editor program. “I didn’t add any music to it yet. I’m still trying to decide what to use. Something with hat in it, I think. Obviously.”

This one is a series of photos and drawings of kittens and cats wearing hats. Some are crocheted or knitted, some are baseball caps. A few have wigs, which doesn’t quite fit the theme, but I suppose it’s close enough.

“What do you think?” Her eyes are bright and excited—even in the dark living room I can see that. “And any ideas for what song I should use?”

“It’s great, Mom. I like it a lot. If I think of any good songs that would work I’ll let you know, OK?” I pause. “Is there anything, you know, for dinner?” Unbidden, my mind flickers to the meal at Jake’s: the spaghetti, the salad. The laughter.

She doesn’t turn around. “Oh, honey, I got so busy with my project that I didn’t eat. You can make anything you like, okay?”

“Sure.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Good night, honey.” She’s back at work, clicking and dragging.

“Good night.” I head to my room without even stopping in the kitchen.