Page 63 of Beautiful Beginning

“It’s done?” It wasn’t only that the house sold, but that Mom would be moving. She’d be leaving Lake Side. “Is Mom okay?” I couldn’t consider if I was okay. Not yet. The house I lived in for over twenty years wouldn’t bemy homeanymore regardless. It’d be the place I went to visit for holidays, random weekends, or whenever I needed to feel the comforts ofhome.But for Mom, it was her home. The place she filled with joy, and laughter. The place she raised three amazing kids. “This sucks.” A tear streamed down my face, and I wiped it aggressively.

“It does.” For the first time, I heard pain in Monroe’s voice. More pain than when she told me they were getting a divorce. More pain than when she said Dad’s stuff was no longer in the house. “Mama seems to be doing okay. You should call her though. I’m sure she’d like to know you’re okay.” Then she insisted like I needed coaching for that phone call. “You’re okay, right?”

“Before I call her, I will be.”

I heard a sniffle, or a huff. Or some long-exasperated breath batter against the speaker. “I should get back to work.” Before she hung up she shouted, “Oh, enjoy your last spring break. Do everything I would do. You deserve a whole lotta fun.”

I couldn’t agree more. But first, I had to let the tears do what they intended to do. “Tears on spring break, where they do that at?” Malachi stood in front of me. “I saw you were off the phone and came to offer this,” he held out a plate. “But I should come back with the bottle.”

I nodded. “That would be amazing.”

He returned with reinforcement—the bottle, and the ladies.

“I know you are not crying on spring break,” Nia said between gritted teeth. “We haven’t toasted to the occasion yet. You aren’t drunk. Why are you crying.” She leaned down so only I could hear her. “Do I need to drive back to campus and whoop somebody’s ass?” Her questioning look made me laugh.

“No.” I shook my head and noticed Malachi standing at a safe distance. “Our house sold,” I said it so he couldn’t hear me.

“Well,” Nia turned behind her, “let us drink tothat.”

“It’s not exactly something to drink to,” I argued.

“Life is all about how we look at it, babe.” She passed shot glasses to all who stood around. With her hand raised in the air she yelled, “To a week full of debauchery before real life starts.” Then she leaned down beside me and said, “To Mama Thompson starting fresh.” She clanked my glass and said, “Drink up.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Chaz

Poolside with the sun beaming down sounded better than scouring websites for opportunities. Hearing all the people shouting when Journey called each day of spring break made me alright with staying back though. If it were only her and me somewhere then maybe.

I had the apartment to myself. And Hill Mount was quiet considering most of the college students were out of town spring breaking. I had a glimpse of what it would be likelivingin the city. I had to admit, sans traffic, staying off campus in an apartment by myself wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Perfect? Not exactly. If Journey was there, it’d take it up a notch. I scoffed. The thought, as often as it resurfaced was still laughable. Journey in Hill Mount for anything other than homecoming was likely out of the question after graduation.

Still, I snapped a few pictures to show her what Hill Mount had to offer during the off chance she considered it. I was getting ahead of myself though. The meeting Professor Martin coordinated for me was minutes away. I had yet to speak more than a few sentences to the man who planned on running for governor. If he agreed with what I had to offer, and I could stand behind his platform, that was a start.

But we weren’t there yet. And if I couldn’t find my way through the office building, we’d be further from it. I circled the lobby looking for an elevator to take me to the third floor when finally, a kind woman stepped to me.

“Lost?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I need to get to Suite 315.” I looked at the elaborate signs in front of me. “Nothing is directing me to the elevators.”

She smirked. “This building could be easier to navigate.” Her eyes blinked before saying, “Follow me, I can show you to the elevators. And” she looked at her phone, “in fact, I can show you to the suite. In case you can’t find your way once you’re up there.”

I wanted to decline the offer, but I was already a few minutes late. “I’d appreciate that.”

As she neared the elevators she asked, “Going to see Mr. Bradford?” Her eyebrows stitched together.

A gentle head nod confirmed. “I am.” But I hesitated before offering much else. The meeting didn’t hold a lot of promise. Only a guarantee to discuss what was possible.

“Hmm… you’re either a journalist or a politician.” She stared as we each found a corner of the elevator.

Wagging my head I offered, “Would you take neither for $200?”

She laughed. “Then?”

Because I wanted to own the role I’d like to be in, I declared, “A politicaladvocate.”

Thankfully the doors re-opened before she could ask for clarity. I didn’t have much. Days without classes, homework, or little distraction should have been enough to figure it out. Still, I had nothing.

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