“She doesn’t know how.”
Melissa sat at the small desk from
Ikea in her apartment, her leather-bound journal open in front of her. Tears were right at the surface. She could produce them at any moment. They tickled her nose, making it
uncomfortable to breathe. Just as the
first tear leaked from one of her eyes, she wrote:
When
I was little, they told me to believe in myself. They told me to follow my dreams and ANYTHING
I wanted to be, I could be. I’m seeing
now how that was a lie. Well, not completely. The part they forgot to tell me about, the
un-sexy, less romantic truth is that I could be anything I wanted…as long as it
made a steady income, as long as I would be given health and dental and a nice
little 401K to match. The only
acceptable dreams are the ones that chain you to desks inside windowless
offices.
Melissa was twenty-nine. She had moved to Los Angeles nine years ago
to finish grad school at the University of Southern California. That is where she met one of her best
friends, Johnny. That was long before
the night he professed his love for her in his car in front of her
apartment. Frightened of what that
meant, she pushed him away. That was
more than three years ago and she hoped he was somewhere, happy.
Melissa looked at a large stack of
papers on the corner of her desk. It was
the 75-page petition she was given by the bankruptcy court to file for Chapter
7. This was never part of her childhood
dream. She felt slapped with shame.
Her parents, both immigrants from the Philippines
had so much hope for their only daughter.
She was going to become so much more than they could have dreamt of
being in the new, exciting country they would come to call home. And for most of Melissa’s life, it looked as
though things would end up that way.
* * *
“I am so proud of you, Missy,” said
her father Ronald.
It was graduation day at USC. She stood before them in her graduation cap
and gown. Her stomach had been in knots
all morning. Melissa was getting her
Masters Degree in American Literature.
She was going to get her PhD and be a professor.
“We knew you would make us proud,”
said Jeanie, her mother.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” Melissa
replied, trying her best to return their bright smiles. She knew she had to tell them, but she didn’t
know how and she wondered if they could sense something was wrong.
“We’ll be up in the bleachers watching you,” said
Ronald. “And then we will meet you
afterward and take you to breakfast.”
Melissa nodded.
“Okay, Daddy.” They each gave her
a kiss on the cheek, then turned to head toward the stadium. “Wait!” Melissa called out to them
suddenly.
They turned back to her, confused.
“Did you forget something?” Jeanie
asked, almost accusingly.
“No, I…I have to tell you
something.” They nodded and walked back
to her. “Mommy, Daddy, I don’t want to
be a professor.”
“Well, that’s all right, honey,”
said Ronald. “You can be just a regular
teacher.”
Melissa shook her head, knowing this
would break their hearts. “No, that’s
not what I’m saying.”
“What exactly are you saying,
Melissa? What is it you want to be?”
asked her mother sternly.
Melissa shut her eyes and the words
fell out. “An actress,” she said, barely
loud enough for them to hear, but they did hear.
Ronald and Jeanie looked at each other, both so
disappointed. They didn’t take Melissa
out for breakfast that day. And they
didn’t speak to her for months afterward.
* * *
Melissa’s cell phone buzzed. “Hello?” she said, trying to hide the fact
she was upset.
“Hey,” replied her best friend in a
cheerful tone. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you? You sound tired.”
“No, Anna, and I hate that everyone
assumes that since I don’t work a regular full-time job that I must sleep in
until noon every day. I get up and do
shit like normal people.”
“Geez, someone’s feisty this
morning. I was going to ask you to meet
me for lunch, but never mind.”
Melissa sighed. “I’m sorry.
It’s not you. I haven’t worked at
all in the last two weeks and I’m freaking out.” She paused before adding, “It’s paralyzing
sometimes.”
“No, I’m sorry, Melissa,” Anna
replied. “That is upsetting. Anything I can do to cheer you up?”
“I don’t think so. I shouldn’t be around people right now. I’m going to get coffee and read. I’ll call you later this week.”
Melissa had the hardest time finding parking once
she arrived at Aromas in Hollywood. She immediately
remembered it was Labor Day weekend and that all of L.A. was be out having
brunch. She almost turned back to go
home, but forced herself to keep to looking for a space. She parked nearly half a mile away. Normally she would be annoyed, but decided
the walk might do her some good.
“I’m sorry,” said the female
cashier, handing Melissa her debit card back once she had finally made it to
the front of the line at the coffee bar.
“Your card’s declined. I can’t
run it again. Can you pay with another
card?”
Melissa took her card back and
started digging through her wallet, knowing full well that all five of the credit
cards in her wallet were maxed out. “I
might have two dollars in change,” she said as she struggled.
“Here, I’ve got it, please,” said a
handsome gentleman behind her. She had
noticed him the moment he got in line.
“And I’ll take a non-fat latte and butter croissant.”
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, her face
turning bright red from the shame of not being able to buy herself her own cup
of coffee.
“Please, buying beautiful women
coffee is one of my favourite pass-times.”
Melissa’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s my pleasure,” he said.
“Well, thank you.” Melissa smiled for the first time that
morning. She took her coffee to look for
an open table. She felt his eyes on her
the whole time.
She found one in a sunny spot on the
patio. After adding cream and sugar to
her coffee, she settled into her seat and opened the book she was reading. She started to feel like her regular self,
taking occasional sips from her cup, inhaling deeply and calmly as she read.
“Excuse me,” said a man’s voice,
startling her a little. Melissa looked
up to see it was the man from the line.
“Sorry to bother you, but since I paid for your coffee, I thought you
might be able to do something for me.”
“Sure, I can try,” offered Melissa,
wondering what she could possibly do for someone like him. She knew she had to look like absolute
garbage at that moment.
The man took an iPhone out of his
no-doubt-designer dark-denim jeans. “My
personal assistant downloaded an update for my phone and now I can’t get it
to…”
His voice trailed off and Melissa
took the phone from him. “I’m no expert,
I’ll take a look.” She started pushing
different prompts on the screen for a moment before turning the touchscreen
back to him. “There. Is that better?”
He looked pleasantly surprised. “Yes, that’s perfect. How did you do that?”
“You just---.”
“You know what?” he
interrupted. “Don’t tell me. Give me your phone number and from now on,
whenever I need technical support for my phone I am calling you.” They both laughed. “Would that be all right? If I called you sometime?” he asked kindly.
Melissa shrugged excitedly. “Yes, of course,” she answered, taking the
phone back to program in her number.
“What’s your name?” he asked as she
typed.
“Melissa.”
“Melissa?” he replied, taking back
his phone. “My name is Aaron.”
Melissa took the hand he offered her
and felt her heart skip again.
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