Page 7 of Billion Dollar Mistake

“Nice to meet you,” I say and wave to Poppy and then Dalton before following Bentley to the elevators.

Downstairs I sign papers, and before I know it, I’m leaving the office building that I’ll call my workplace soon.

On my walk to my car that’s parked a block away, I call home.

“Nova. How did it go?” My mom answers on the first ring.

My chest swells. I'm thrilled to be able to tell her the great news.

“I got the job!” I exclaim proudly.

“Oh, I knew it. Charles, she got the job.” Mom sniffles.

“Tell me all about it,” she requests.

I’m getting in the car to drive to the gym, but I know she won’t let me hang up until I tell her something. “I start next week. I met my co-workers Dalton and Poppy. The boss said it’s temporary while a lady named Fern is on maternity leave but after the contract is up, he’ll find me a new job within the company.”

I avoid saying the guy gives me an uncomfortable feeling because I don’t need them to worry about me. I can handle Mr. Spencer.

“How’s Dad feeling?” I ask. He had a doctor's appointment today for a check-up after his first round of chemo.

“He's okay. There’s a little bit of swelling from one of his kidneys. The doctors are keeping an eye on it but other than that he’s good. Don’t worry about him.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.” My dad’s voice calls out in the background.

“You heard him,” Mom adds.

“I did. Well, I’m about to drive to the gym, but I’ll talk to you soon. I love you both.”

“I love you too. Drive safe.”

“I will. Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.” I hang up and drive away.

Entering the open-air gym, I head to my usual spot tucked away in the basement corner. I want to be alone for the next forty-five minutes, where I can feel my knuckles hit the bag and relish in the pain. The gym is packed with kids who come here after school, but I block them out by focusing on the Hip Hop music, and the feeling that punching the bag with all my strength gives me. When I’m dripping with sweat and my knuckles can’t take another hit, I pack my bag and head home.

I don’t live with my parents. I haven't since I went to college. There have been times when I’ve wanted to move back. Like the day my dad was first diagnosed with cancer. But that was my fear talking. Fear of losing him. But he insisted on me living my life and finishing college. His strength is one I look up to. Maybe that’s why I refuse to give up. The thought of him not being around one day is scary, so I don’t allow myself to think or feel it.

I park at the rental house and take a few exhausting steps toward the door. Entering the mudroom, I kick off my trainers and the smell of onion hits me. Someone is cooking.

“Mmm, smells good in here,” I call out.

“Spaghetti,” Summer calls from the kitchen. She's home from college where she’s studying to become a veterinarian.

There was this one time she brought home her dissection project and put it in our fridge. She went to take a shower, forgot to tell me, and when I opened the fridge, I screamed. She came out of the shower wearing a towel and looking around frantically. I pointed at the fridge and she laughed. I didn’t find it funny. I was still trying to calm my heart rate down. From then on, she promised to never bring her projects home.

“Can I help?” I ask, wandering into the kitchen.

“No. I’m just waiting for the water to boil,” she replies, nudging her nose down at the pot before her brown eyes meet mine. She’s wearing her usual pair of gray sweats and her wavy brown hair is tied up in a bun on her head. She seems all set for a relaxing night.

“I might jump in the shower then.” I tilt my head in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go for it.”

“Where’s Chelsea?” I ask, surprised to find her gone.

“No idea.” Summer shrugs. “Maybe still at work.”

“I’ll be back,” I say over my shoulder and jog up the stairs.

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