Page 9 of Makai

Without looking back, I listened as his door closed and he sped through the parking lot with his music blasting. I released the breath I’d been holding as I stepped inside the stadium. Quickly, I placed a hand against the wall and lifted my left foot, making sure I hadn’t done any damage. I didn’t need a sprained ankle affecting my ability to walk across the stage.

He’s right, I summed. Maybe my feet have outgrown these shoes after all.

I immediately pictured the red-soled shoes I’d traded for these. Surprisingly, I felt little to nothing as I lowered my foot and continued toward the meeting spot for the graduates. I didn’t mind wearing my old shoes if it meant forging a new, brighter path that didn’t remind me of the man who had forced me to embark on this journey so soon and without warning.

* * *

With Roseberry as my last name, it felt as if centuries had passed before my name was close to being called. With my hands tapping against my thighs, I waited at the edge of my seat as my classmates and their accolades were displayed on the large screens for the entire stadium could see. Roars followed each government name, family and friends celebrating their loved ones and the hard work they’d done over the last few years.

Maybe I should’ve at least called Brittney. Thoughts rang out as I smoothed my gown for the hundredth time to clear my palms of perspiration.

The two-and-a-half hour drive that my mother’s cousin’s daughter would’ve had to make felt like far too much to request of someone I’d only seen at family reunions and my parents’ funeral. However, the dreadful silence that would linger until the name after mine was called had me regretting not making the call.

It was so last minute, I reasoned. I’d been thrown a curveball that I never expected in the wee hours. The two people I wanted shouting to the top of their lungs as I accepted my degree, the two people that I’d give the entire world to had both betrayed me. So, silence, I’d have to accept.

Straightening my back and lifting my chest, I chose to unalive the negative thoughts that began surfacing. There was no time for pity. There was no time for pain. In the comfort of my home, when the day was done and reality hit, I’d allow my feelings to bloom. But for the moment, I tucked them away.

“Glacier Roseberry. Bachel—”

My cheeks reddened as my face flushed with heat. Standing on my feet, I trekked toward the stage.

Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fa—

A loud bullhorn sounded. The fact that they were prohibited left me wondering how one had made it inside and who it had been meant for. I continued my journey toward the stage, stopping momentarily to peer into the large crowd in search of the source. My vision failed me, prompting me to keep pushing. I obliged, knowing that it would be impossible to pinpoint anyone in the sea of people.

Nelson. My heart grew weary as I silently prayed that his presence was no longer a concern by the end of the event. With his lack of patience, it was almost impossible for him to sit through a full graduation and that brought me comfort.

Whistling followed, penetrating the silence while stirring other attendees of the function. Soon enough, hands joined in unison to celebrate a stranger. Nervously, I approached the center of the stage.

Hand in hand, I posed for the professional photographer as I accepted my degree from the Mayor of the city. Right beside him was the dean and a few other people who made my years in nursing school a bit more bearable. The whistling and applauses continued until the next name was called. Thankful that silence hadn’t depreciated the valuable moment, I descended the steps with a smile on my face and trembling fingers.

You did it, baby, my mother’s voice sounded in the distance.

My girl, the sky is the limit, my father’s voice trailed.

With fresh, hot tears gliding down my cheeks, I strutted toward my seat. It wasn’t until my gown pressed against the plastic that I felt a burden larger than I’d realized lift from my shoulders.

I did it, I told myself. I did it.

With quivering limbs, I unlocked my cell and lifted it high while tapping the camera icon. When my face was in clear view, I snapped several pictures, showcasing my new credential. My proudest moment wouldn’t go undocumented. It didn’t matter that there were cameras snapping around us. I wanted—needed—my own proof of pure elation during the storm I was facing.

Again and again, a classmate’s name was called. My cheeks peaked each time they accepted their degree and continued across the stage. In a room full of strangers, I was inspired and motivated to keep pushing regardless of the circumstances. Momentarily, I regretted not making friends with the women and men who shared the same classrooms with me. The three women I’d gotten close to had all decided that the work required to finish nursing school was far too much to pair with the hardships of life and cut their losses early.

Tassels pierced the air before falling to the opposite side. In unity, we declared ourselves graduates. Chants erupted as everyone stood and made their way toward their loved ones. The pain in my chest as I witnessed the urgency in everyone’s stride, was a reminder that no one was waiting for me.

No one was anxious to wrap their arms around me and tell me how proud they were of me. No one standing on the tips of their toes trying to spot me out of the crowd. No one was perched at the promised meeting spot, anticipating the moment I turned the corner. There was no one. Not even Nelson.

I searched the sea of people that had crowded in the lobby, ready to march in the opposite direction. However, there was no use in preparation because he was nowhere to be found. Closing my eyes, I quietly thanked whoever had felt the pain of losing my parents and support system. Their cheering meant so much more than the naked eye was able to capture.

It wasn’t until the wind swiped across my face, freeing a new set of tears that I realized there wasn’t a car in the parking lot that belonged to me. The weight of my world rested on my shoulders as I lowered my eyes to the cheap black pumps with promises of bruising and swelling by the time I made it to the end of the parking lot.

I swiped the tears from my face before unlocking my screen. In the MAPS application, I searched for the nearest bus or train stop. The closest would suffice. With the negative balance in my account, I was counting on the few dollar bills in my purse to get me where I needed to be. A Carriage wasn’t even an option for me at the moment, though it was the quickest and ideal source of transportation at the moment.

Just as my eyes began to water again, I exited the MAPS application. Discovering the train stop was a mile and a half in the opposite direction and a bus stop was the same distance in the opposite direction was gutting. Desperation crept through me. The incredibly handsome, overly rude tire shop guy crossed my mind and stayed put. In no rush to leave, the thoughts had me toying with the idea of calling him.

Maybe my car is ready now, I reasoned.

It’s been hours. Sighing, I twisted my body from left to right, trying to find comfort through the discomfort.

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