LITMIR.BIZ

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the first part of our conversation and then goes into the freezer and hits the sides of the ice-cream containers for at least two minutes. When she returns she takes in a deep breath and plasters a smile across her face. I nod in response, not knowing exactly what I should do except get on with this moment.

      It always seemed odd to have the name Fish in an ice-cream place but she usually joked it off, saying she was a cold fish about everything except being successful. Ms. Fish would make sure a Blizzard was offered to every single customer or you would be on her Space List. She always said you could be on two lists at her store: the Fish List where you were doing everything right and were invited to the weekly fish fry (this happened on Saturday nights at her house), or the Space List. Her first name is Hailey. Of course, I would never call her by that out of respect, but it leads to her Space List like Hailey’s Comet. Every so often she would explain about Hailey’s Comet and how often it appeared and why it wasn’t the list you would want to be on. If you were on her Space List this meant you were not invited to the fish fry and the only type of annual bonus you would receive was an extra dollop of whatever you chose during our yearly meeting. Whenever she explained this to newbies, she would laugh and say that just because she spent all day in a freezer didn’t mean she was without a warm heart.

      After I say goodbye to everyone at Dairy Queen I head back home to face another freezer. My mama. She has been frosty ever since I told her my news. I make my way through the house and eye my suitcase. Everything I own has been stuffed into the suitcase my mama offered to me. It had seemed so big at first and then very, very small as I zipped it up. My entire life being pushed into this vinyl case. Clothes, a few books, and zero trinkets. Not a one. I’m still bothered my mama wouldn’t let me take the bluebonnet bell. But it is what it is. There is no going back.

      “Oh, well, for Pete’s sake, Sahara, that is not how you pack a suitcase. Haven’t you learned anything from me?” My mama tsks and begins dumping out my clothes and rolling them up and repacking everything. To be fair, this is the first suitcase I’ve ever packed, given that I’ve never been anywhere other than to spend the night at my friend Rachel’s house. And that was for only one night and I used my school book bag.

      “All right now, there, you’re officially packed. So off you go. You best get a move on. You don’t want to be late for dinner or be driving in the dark. Heaven forbid you might get one of them flat tires or some other issues with that ridiculous contraption out front.” My mama shakes her head and taps her foot.

      Poor Rontu would not appreciate these words from my mama. I know he is only a car and all, but still, it seems like he is more than a car to me. We’ve been through a lot together. He afforded me some independence to stretch my wings and make it to Dairy Queen on my own without asking anyone for a ride. Now he’s taking me out of this small town and out of the reach of my mama. My chest tightens. There is a tiny part of me that doesn’t want to leave my mama. But it’s not like I’m crossing state borders. Just a few hours’ drive away. We’ll still be under the same stars. But I’d best do like my mama says and get a move on as I don’t want to have a car failure on a long stretch of open Texas highway at night. The roads I’ll be traveling are barren. I know this for sure. There isn’t much between Mexia and Riverton. I’ve got to go.

      “All right, Mama. I suppose this is goodbye for now.” I open my arms, expecting a hug in return but my mama pushes past me.

      “Let me get the door for you. I suppose you’re looking for that kind of life where people open the doors for you. So let me go ahead and give you a taste of that.” My mama opens the door to our trailer and the Texas sun does not warm up the room. It’s cold. Colder than an ice-cream freezer. I rub my arms for a second, to give myself the courage to take the next step and move forward. This is it. I’m leaving. My mama wants me to go… without a hug. A lump forms in the back of my throat like a big iceberg that is cutting against my air tubes. I’m trying to breathe and move forward and hold back any kind of tears as I pass through our home. My home. But I’m moving on. I’m moving forward. I am. Onward and upward. I’m not going to cry. I need to be strong and show my mama that I can do this. I pass by her and our eyes meet. She presses her lips together and nods toward the car.

      “All right, I’ll call you when I get there.”

      “I might not be home. Got some appointments of my own to tend to tonight. But I suppose you can leave a message on that contraption you bought. If it’s even working.” She shrugs.

      “I can go check and make sure.” I stop and put my suitcase down on the porch.

      “No, Sahara. That won’t be necessary.” My mama shakes her head at me and I pick the suitcase back up and put it in the back seat. I stop once more and stare back at my mama. Her arms are crossed over her chest. She has on her nicest house coat. It’s hanging just above her calves. It doesn’t sway with the light breeze. It stands still just like my mama. No emotion. No sadness, no sorrow. No nothing.

      I slide into the seat. It’s almost as though Rontu wants to hug me and tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m going to be okay and to go ahead and start the engine and this trip up. I glance in the rearview mirror. My mama is nowhere in sight. She is gone. Not even going to watch me drive away from the porch.

      The sun isn’t setting in the distance but it sure is setting on the park – not like a playground park; I mean the trailer park – as I edge off the gravel and little chunks flick up behind Rontu. We make it onto paved road and I’m steering us further down the road. We’re leaving Mexia. I’m leaving. I’m leaving my mama and everything I’ve ever known. I’m driving past trees and fields and things I’ve never seen before because I’ve never left the city limits before. There was never a reason to, especially not after the Target was built, but now I’m past the county line. The further I travel, a bit more of the sadness lifts off my skin. I wish my mama would have given me a proper goodbye but maybe that’s just not the way to handle things. Maybe the way she did it is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe she’s right. But if I were in her place I think I would break those rules and give my daughter a real hug goodbye. A little tear slips from my eye. Nope, don’t do it, Sahara. You’re about to be a professional. Showing up at Ms. Myra’s house has got to be a hundred percent professional. No tears. No silly emotions. Be a straight shooter, a yes mam, and get things done.

      Yes, this is the new Sahara. The one that takes care of things. The one that reaches for the stars and builds the space ship to make it happen. I did it. I found out about Eagle Online. Listened to the fancy commercial and filled out all the forms online. I did that. No one else. And now look at me, en route to my new career. My new life. My new everything.

       Chapter Two

      I check my instructions once more to make sure this is the right spot. The house is bigger than our trailer. It looks like one of those storybook kinds of houses with some pretty green bushes out front and a tree plonked right dead gum center in the yard. There are little colorful flowers peeking out from every nook and cranny. This sure does look like a nice place to live. I hope Ms. Myra is okay about my being here. Given it was last minute and all.

      I knock on the door and it swings wide open. The lady in the doorway has a grin bigger than the one my daddy used to wear on payday. Her hair is parted to the side and it reminds me of a sunset at the end of summer when I was wanting to stay out later and wait for the fireflies to pop up. But I wouldn’t even need to wait for the fireflies to pop up here. Ms. Myra’s eyes are sparkling like firecrackers.

      “Hi, Ms. Myra?” I reach out my hand to shake and she pulls me in and hugs me into a deep embrace. And my heart flips over inside of my body. Wow. Little butterflies of happiness sail around in my arms. This woman sure does know how to hug and we haven’t even met before.

      She pats down my hair. “Well, Sahara. You have grown into such a beautiful young woman.” Her smile softens for a second. “I mean, well, your mama would send me a school photo from time to time.” Ms. Myra focuses on the ends of my hair. “It’s just been a while since I’ve gotten one.”

      “Oh, wow. That’s nice to hear.” I feel sillier than

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