Gina Calanni - Dream Come True

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.

“Hi, Ms. Myra. I hope I’m not late, I was studying.”

Ms. Myra has her back to me as she’s stirring a big pot of something on the stove. She slowly turns around and her smile tells me she isn’t mad.

“Not at all, dear. Now have a seat and tell me all about your day. How did you like Blue Ribbon?

“Yes, ma’am. I liked it a lot. Except I need to do some major studying as apparently I don’t know the proper way to scoop ice cream and I forgot about the number-one rule of the creamery.” I slide onto the vinyl green chair and then immediately hop up. “Can I help with something, Ms. Myra?”

“No, dear, tonight is my turn. You can take a turn another time.” Ms. Myra nods at me to take a seat. I reluctantly sit back down. It seems backwards for me to be sitting while she serves me. After her allowing me to stay with her an’ all.

“What’s the proper way to scoop ice cream? I would have thought someone from Dairy Queen would know.”

I laugh. “I would have thought that, too, but Mr. Flints seems to think not too kindly of Dairy Queen. Anyways, he said the proper way is to cut the ice cream with a warm knife first, like a grid.”

Ms. Myra brings the pot to the table and sloshes some of the chili onto the floor. “Oh, darn it.” She slides the pot on the table and reaches for a towel. Her legs slip a bit and she braces herself on the counter.

“Are you all right?” I jump to her side.

“Yes, dear. I’m just getting old, that’s all.”