Dream Come True

I’m not sure why he would be laughing about somebody’s death. Maybe he is just awkward. “Yes, she did, very tragically, bless her heart.” I stop in front of the cafeteria. Through the glass windows I can see rows of tables filled with businesslike-looking people with their suits and ties and nice skirts, and then there is a table of some of my classmates. I swallow – kind of reminds me of high school. I was never fond of the cafeteria. Even in Mexia there were cliques. I’m hesitant to revisit those memories. Maybe I ought to skip lunch today and wait outside in the courtyard or something.

“Come on, aren’t you going to get some lunch?” Brandon pushes open the door and waves me in. My hesitation is diminished by viewing his large arm and his welcoming me into the lunchroom. I guess it might be okay if I were to eat with him, if this is an invitation for that.

“Yes, I suppose I will.” I push past him and make my way toward the cafeteria line. I’m not a fan of cafeteria food. But now that I’ve already said I’ll have lunch I have to decide which pig slop I’m going to shovel down my throat.

Pale – obviously canned – green beans, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and fried chicken sit in rectangular silver dishes. I’m no gourmet food person, but I can tell the difference between canned and frozen beans. My mama always switched to canned food toward the end of the month. I always knew funds were getting tight, as she would say, when the can opener became a daily utensil in our house. My mama supported us on her cleaning job and making blankets for all her friends and their babies. But even with the extra blanket money, one thing or another would come up and we’d be eating canned food again. Canned beans aren’t bad, but the green vegetables… no thank you. I slide my tray past all of the pre-packaged, preservative-stuffed food and opt for the salad bar. At least there I can mix and match some of the fresh vegetables and add some of my favorite sunflower seeds. Brandon is at my heels except he’s managed to fill up his tray with almost every item being offered. I understand a man of his size might need more to eat than me, but, shoot, he looks like he thinks he is a camel and not going to see food for months.

I finish sorting through the veggies and head for the register. I pull my wallet out of my purse and Brandon tries to offer the cashier a twenty-dollar bill for our food.

“Now, hold on a second, you can’t pay for my meal.” I wave his money away. “I’m sorry about that. Here is my money for my lunch.” I give the cashier a ten-dollar bill and she hands me the change with a discerning look. Did she expect me to let him pay for my food? I only met him two shakes of a lamb’s tail ago.

I scan the cafeteria seating options and Brandon nods toward an empty table. I follow behind him, admiring his build; if thoughts were sins, I would be needing to do some serious penance right now. Brandon sits down at the white and metal table and I take the seat in front of him.

“So, do you always try and pay for strangers’ meals?” I raise an eyebrow at him as I take a bite of my salad. It’s crunchy, but for a salad this is a good thing. I can’t stand when my salad is wilted. What’s the point in eating rotten food?

“Sorry about that; I just usually pay if I’m with a lady.” Brandon shovels some mashed potatoes into his mouth. His eyes are inspecting my face, like I’m a map and he’s figuring out how to get from point A to point B.

I laugh. “But Brandon, you just met me a minute ago and we aren’t really together. I mean, we are together physically, but we’re classmates. Would you pay for all your female classmates’ food?”

The sides of Brandon’s mouth pull up and his teeth are showing: big, white, healthy teeth. My mama would declare that this man comes from good stock after eyeing those chompers.

“If we had walked in together like you and I did, then, yes, I would offer to pay. I’m sorry if that bothered you; it’s how I was raised.” Brandon winks at me.

I’m going to melt in my chair. And it is really tepid in here, reminds me of working at Dairy Queen; they always keep the temperature at seventy degrees so as to keep the ice cream from forming big puddles in the buckets. Nobody likes drippy ice cream.

“Well, that solves that, thank you. What position are you looking to be hired for after the training is up?”

“Not sure, that’s still up in the air. I want to try all of the positions so that I can really get a good feel for the organization. I know that when Richard Blue started the company, he worked every position and requires this of all of his executive staff.” He pauses and stares into my eyes, like he’s thinking about whether or not to share something with me. “I will be following in his path.” Brandon takes another large bite of his fried chicken.

I try and swallow all the information he’s given. He’s headed for the executive path? I know Blue Ribbon says they require all employees to go through the training program, but I didn’t think this applied to the executive staff.

“Where did you go to school?” I let my curiosity jump out from underneath me. I wish I could pull that question back in and try to say it softer… but too late, it’s already out there. I know he must have gone to school somewhere because there is no way he thinks he can be an executive for Blue Ribbon if he doesn’t have a degree. I know this because I had to have a degree in order to advance to the next level of product development, which is by no means equal to the executive level.

“East of here, how about you?” Brandon takes a big bite of his buttery roll. I wish I had grabbed a buttery roll, but that wasn’t an option with the salad, just those darn white flakey crackers, which probably aren’t meant for the salad but for the soup.

“I got my degree with Eagle Online.” I’m still proud of that degree. Of course, it’s only been a month since I finished all of my courses. I could have driven to the graduation ceremony but that would have cost a pretty penny. So I just watched the video presentation; they said they would read all the students’ names even if they weren’t there. And sure enough they read my name… wrong. Sarah, my name is not Sarah. It’s Sahara… I don’t understand how a college person would get the pronunciation wrong, as if they couldn’t read each letter. I suppose they read over what letters are there and autocorrect them in their brain.

Brandon nods at me. “Isn’t that the place that says: accreditation is just a word?”

I pull back my head for second. “I think that’s the saying, why?”

Brandon shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone who went there.”

I look at Brandon closely, trying to work out if he’s looking down on me, on account of his own fancy college education.

He catches my look and says, “I just didn’t know it was a real university.”

I nod. But I’m anything but agreeing with him or the situation. Shoot. What have I got myself into? Here I am in front of Mr. Blue-eyed Dreamboat and he swipes the carpet from beneath me. Is he saying that my degree isn’t real because it didn’t come from a college like his? All the hours I spent studying and the money I paid for it tells me everything I need to know. They have a TV commercial and everything. Maybe he is wrong or maybe he is just cynical; yeah, he is probably just a spoilsport. Given his looks and all he has, he’s probably never had to struggle and just views the world and regular people’s lives as a joke or something. That must be it.

“It’s, uh, my degree is in business. After the training program is up I’ll be a product development associate here at the creamery.” I raise my shoulders and let out a deep breath. “Of course, that’s if I pass… which is unlikely given I already messed up scooping ice cream.” No degree, from Eagle Online or otherwise, can make up for this morning’s embarrassment. I bat my eyelashes – I can’t believe I messed that one up. I bet Sally Jane would be laughing up a storm about it if she ever found out, which hopefully she won’t.

Brandon’s eyebrows wiggle together. “I’m sure you’ll pass. Don’t worry about Mr. Flints… he’s worked here for ages and likes to give the newbies a tough time. Especially, given… well, I wouldn’t mention Eagle Online in front of him.”

What the what? Now, I need to be hiding my degree and school from our instructor? I’m proud of getting my degree. I worked hard for it, and I’m still paying off the loan I had to take out. And now this rich kid who’s probably had an easy life is telling me I should be ashamed of what I’ve achieved? I should put him in his place, but my mama raised me better than that, so I keep my mouth shut.

But maybe he knows something I don’t. He seems to know a heck of a lot more about Blue Ribbon Creamery than I do, and he is on the executive path. I start to feel a chill down my spine like a bunch of night critters are making a meal out of me. I won’t let him see that he’s got to me, though. “Huh… how long you reckon Mr. Flints has worked here?”

Brandon casts his dreamy blues up to the ceiling, which is covered by bright fluorescent lights. I jerk my head back and blink. Ouch.

“Hmm, he must have worked here for at least twenty years, I remember… er, I think someone mentioned earlier that he had been here for a long time.” He nods. “Anyways, who really cares, right? This isn’t exactly the crème de la crème of factories… at least not given the owner.” He clears his throat.

“It’s the best creamery in the US… even if you count the place in Vermont.” Not that this matters. I need to focus his attention away from me and my degree at Eagle Online. “Twenty years, he must be nearing retirement then, right?” Please, let this be the case. Surely, if the deep dagger of a reality check that is piercing my side and causing spots behind my eyes brighter than a blue light special at K-Mart is trying to alert me to the fact that Brandon is right about my degree, then I have messed up bigger than the time I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the swirl ice-cream machine on my first day at Dairy Queen. It just kept spinning vanilla and chocolate swirls onto the floor and filling every container I held up until it finally ran out and our floor was covered in melted ice-cream mess. Dorothy almost tripped, which would have been her fourth worker’s comp claim in the past year, and I ended up in more hot water than the laundry mat on payday.

“Oh I’ll bet he’ll be teaching classes until he takes his last breath. He’s been a pillar of Blue Ribbon since the beginning and I think he’s in good with the Blue family or something. Has to be the only reason they keep him around, right?” Brandon laughs.

I let out a polite laugh. I don’t want to sit dead pan for Brandon’s attempt at a joke, but I’m definitely not going to be gossiping about other employees and the Blue family. Shoot, no. I know lines and when not to cross them. I dig in my purse for my phone and check out the time. I want to dash off and look up Eagle Online on the internet but there is a part of me that wants to bury my head in a pile of chocolate chips and pretend that I’ve drowned. Because death by chocolate seems like a nice way to go and you don’t really need water to feel like you’re drowning. I couldn’t be anymore drowning than in this moment. I’ve got to get out of here.

“We have to be back in class in five minutes.” I stand up.

“It’s only around the corner.” Brandon jerks his back.

“I need to visit the ladies’. It was nice chatting with you.”

I don’t wait for him to say the same. I’ve got to make it to the ladies’ and back to the classroom in less than five minutes and I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a line. Lord knows there are lots of ladies who work here.

I rush through the cafeteria and out the door. The restrooms are at the end of the hall. If this wasn’t my first day on the job and I was alone, I would run, but like my mama always says, have decorum, Sahara, know your manners. I push the door open and hike my way through the room to find an empty stall.

“Hey there, new girl?”

I jerk my head back. Is this voice talking to me? I ignore it and go about my business, flush and stalk my way to the sink. An older woman is washing her hands next to me.

“Listen here, new girl, you be careful around that boy.”

“Ma’am?” I don’t mean her any disrespect but I’ve got to make it to class and I’m not sure why she is telling me to be careful around… Brandon.

“Just be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod and hike out of the ladies’ as fast as I can without running. I could probably qualify for the walking event in the Olympics. I’m sure I look ridiculous swinging my arms up and down but I’ve got to make it to room 771 in less than a minute. I slide in through the closing door.

Mr. Flints is at the front of the class with some odd-looking metal contraption and his eyes are on me. I sure hope he hasn’t been looking over my resume. Good grief, Sahara, what have you gotten yourself into? I slide my way to the back of the class but as I pass Brandon’s desk he hands me a small piece of white paper. Is he passing me a note in class? Does he want me to get in trouble? I sure hope Mr. Flints didn’t pick up on that. I grab it and stick it in my pocket as I sit down. The note is like a fire blazing on a hot July night and I’m fanning myself in the back of the class trying not to sweat. I slowly retrieve the note and open it up. Written are two words and ten numbers that flicker through my chest like a swarm of bees buzzing at a hive. Call me.

Chapter Three

After class I scramble to my car and hop in. I saved up for three whole summers to buy Rontu. I thought that was the right name for my brown Chevette. It reminded me of the dog in Island of the Blue Dolphins. I just knew when I laid eyes on it at the flea market that Rontu and I would go on great adventures. Sure, most folks don’t think Chevettes are great cars, but I knew it would be solid and make for great companionship. Shoot, look at us now. Sitting in the parking lot of Blue Ribbon Creamery. First day of training was, I guess, a fifty-fifty. I didn’t scoop ice cream right… but I did meet somebody really nice. My chest tightens. I glance out into the parking lot; most of the cars are gone. Brandon is hustling toward me. I swallow. What am I going to say? What is he going to say?

His face lights up like the first day of spring and everybody is headed to Dairy Queen for their free scoop of ice cream.

“Hey there.” He leans into my car window. His body is so large I have to back up or else our faces would be touching. And by our faces I mean our lips. They are so close. The lump in the back of my throat grows bigger, like it’s one of those ridiculous-size jawbreakers that nobody could even fit in their mouth – well, except Suzie T, but that’s not nice to say; I can almost hear my mama clearing her throat in disapproval.

“Hey.” I kick my own foot. Hey? Why can’t I ever think of something clever? Well, I suppose that’s because I’m Sahara… and unfortunately Sahara is not clever. Especially with her degree that’s not good enough for the creamery. I frown.

Brandon squints his eyes at me. “Do you want to grab something to eat?”

I laugh. “Are you trying to come up with another way of buying me a meal?”

Brandon flashes his healthy chompers at me again. “It wasn’t going to be as fancy as the cafeteria but I have a couple of bucks in my wallet and the dollar menu sounds like a good idea. What do you say?”

My eyebrows push together. Is he serious? I’m too embarrassed to ask. “Maybe another time. I’ve got to get home and study.”

Brandon jerks his head back at me. “Study for what?’

“For this class we’re in. Aren’t you going to?”

His knuckles brush against his chin like he’s thinking of something. “How about we study together?” His dreamy blues stare down into my eyes and my chest tightens like a rattlesnake is cutting off my air supply. “Starbucks and study time, yes?”

“All right.” I can’t imagine Brandon’s ever heard the word no. He’s so confident and those eyes of his are about the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.

“Do you want to ride with me?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“No, I’ll follow in my car.”

He nods and strolls to a big silver truck. I’m sure that thing cost a fortune. It’s so fancy-looking. Here I am in my beat-up…

“I’m sorry, Rontu.” I know I didn’t say it out loud but it’s like Rontu and I are connected somehow and, even though he’s a car, it just didn’t seem the right thing to say or think. He has really been a worthwhile investment for me.

I follow behind Brandon’s pricey truck and flip on some tunes to ease my nerves. That guy makes my insides dance around like a bunch of Mexican jumping beans. As the twang of the guitar slides through my speakers, I’m immediately at ease. I sure do like Patsy Cline and “Walking After Midnight” is one of my favorite songs. I know it’s sad but it reminds me of my daddy. Like maybe somehow his leaving was not on purpose. I wonder sometimes if he got lost and is still trying to find his way back to our home. To me and my mama. Though I don’t know if my mama would welcome him back in as it’s been twelve years since he left.

As I park my car I glance at Brandon’s truck. It’s so sparkly and nice, just like Brandon. Why is something that shiny acting interested in me? My stomach clenches and I hop out of my car.

Brandon holds open the door for me and we make our way to the register. I scan the different options and decide to order one of their tiramisu lattes. Whipped cream in the afternoon, is there anything better? I think not.

I reach into my purse to take out my card and Brandon pushes my hand back in my purse.

“Come on now, it’s only coffee.” His dreamy blues make my knees all wobbly.

I sigh. “Okay. Thank you. I’d like a tiramisu latte.”

“Whoa… I said coffee not the works.” Brandon laughs.

I reach back in my purse.

“Sahara, I’m kidding.” He shakes his head at me. “Two tiramisus, please.”

The cashier takes our names and rings us up. We step to the side while they make our drinks.

“You’re something else.” Brandon tugs on my hair.

“I could say the same about you.” I poke his side.

“Sarah and Brandon.” The employee shouts.

We both laugh as if we knew it would be Sarah and not Sahara. Brandon grabs our drinks and I follow behind him to the back of the café. We sit down, me with my notes and Brandon with his laptop.

“I bet you get that all the time, huh?”

I laugh. “More times than I can count.”

“It is an interesting name, though. Are your parents big travelers?”

I laugh even harder now. Brandon is staring at me like I’ve got a clown wig on or something.

“I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of my parents as travelers… well, that’s just funny. I guess, I mean my daddy might be. He left on my tenth birthday, so who knows what he’s up to; maybe he is a big traveler.”

“Oh, gosh, that must have been really difficult.”

“I suppose, but there’s no going back and changing things, so…” I take a sip of my drink.

The sides of Brandon’s mouth pull up higher than the sunrise at noon. I’m not sure why he thinks my daddy leaving is funny. I’m about to stand up and leave as he leans in to me and wipes my nose.

“Sorry, you had some whipped cream on your nose.” His eyes twinkle at me.

My face heats up and I’m not sure which is worse: that I had whipped cream on my nose or that Brandon thought it was funny. Does he think I’m a fool? My shoulders slump to the floor.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you know how cute you look when you’re pouting?” Brandon squeezes my hand. His fingers are a little rough but the warmth of his skin makes me all sensitive inside. How is he causing all these emotions when I only just met him?

I stare back into his eyes. “I’m not pouting.”

“Okay.” Brandon grins. “So tell me about your name. I’m curious.”

I sigh. I really don’t want to share this with Brandon. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s silly or think less of my family.

“My mama said she named me Sahara because I was going to be something special, like the desert.” Brandon’s eyes are sparkling at me. I hesitate for a second. “But when my daddy left he said that my mama lied and that she had just misspelled Sarah because she was too doped up on hospital drugs when she filled out the form.” I swallow hard but the lump in the back of my throat doesn’t move.

“Wow.” Brandon shakes his head. “Your dad.” He stops speaking for a moment, almost as if he’s remembering an unwritten rule about talking badly about somebody else’s family. He lets out a sigh. “I like your name and think it suits you well.”

“Thank you. Now enough about me. We’re supposed to be studying here.” I tap on my papers. They look so lame compared to Brandon’s laptop. I’m still not sure why he is sitting here next to me. We are like the dry cleaner’s and the laundromat. Obviously from two different worlds. I’m sure his family life is probably as nice as his truck.

“How about I quiz you?” Brandon winks at me.

“Okay and then I’ll quiz you.” I skim my notes as quickly as I can before Brandon can ask me the first question.

“I didn’t take you for the cheating type.” Brandon tugs the papers away from me.

“I wasn’t. I was just checking out my notes one last time.”

“Tell it to the judge.” Brandon laughs and shuffles the papers. “All right. What is Blue Ribbon’s number-one rule?”

I stare up at the ceiling. I know the answer is not going to be printed up there but for some reason it just seems like the right thing to do. Shoot. I can’t think of what the number-one rule is. Is it about safety? Or more about sales. I glance back at Brandon; he’s watching me with a big smile plastered across his face. I can’t help but smile back even though my insides are twisting together. I do not know the answer to his question.

“I’ll give you a hint.” Brandon’s eyes twinkle and his smile is brighter than the reflection of sundown on the tin foil over my Aunt Betty’s famous apple pie. I’m still stumped. I have no idea.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“A smile can go a long way.” Brandon lets out a small laugh.

“Ah, yeah, I suppose I forgot about that one. It’s the company tagline, right?” Gosh, I couldn’t feel worse right about now. I didn’t remember the company tagline; how am I supposed to pass any of the tests when I don’t even know the tagline? My insides feel shredded. I glance at my phone. It’s five after six.

“Yes, it is. All right, next question.” Brandon scans over my notes. A vibrating sound comes from underneath the table. He eyes his phone and holds up one finger to me.

“Hello… yes, this is Brandon. Yes, I’m working on… training just began. Yes, I will. All right. Bye.” His mind seems to be elsewhere as he stuffs his phone back in his pocket. What was that about? It’s not anything for me to worry about, that’s for sure.

I clear my throat and pick up my notes. “Actually, I’ve got to go. I promised Ms. Myra I’d eat dinner with her tonight and now I’m going to be late.” I stand up. Brandon’s eyes are wide. Does he think I’m dumber than a fruit fly? I sure wish I had wings right about now and I would flap them so fast and exit this shop before Brandon noticed I was gone.

“Oh, okay.” Brandon stands as well.

“Thanks for the latte.” I nod at him and hightail it out of there. My whole drive home I try not to slam my head onto my steering wheel. The only thing that prevents me from doing so is, one, Rontu wouldn’t appreciate it and, two, I might cause an accident. Other than that it seems like a great idea.

I scoot my way up the driveway and run to Ms. Myra’s front door. The kitchen light is on. I sure hope I haven’t ruined dinner. This would be our very first one together. I open the door and take a right to the kitchen. Ms. Myra’s house is what one might describe as quaint. It’s got three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and only one bathroom. The bathroom part might be a problem for some folks but I’ve been sharing one with my mama since I was born. Ha, I mean once I was out of diapers.