“Everyone think about a time when you wanted to buy something, but didn’t have enough money to pay for it.” Julie stood at the dry-erase board with red and green markers in her right hand and her lesson plan in the other.
All twenty-six children’s hands flew into the air, eager and restless. Squeals flipped between pint-sized “ooh oohs” and “pick me.” Usually, Julie was inclined to choose a kid who was quiet with averted eyes, but today, she thought, why not? Why not choose the little brown-skinned girl with the curly pigtails, who likely studied until she knew things backward and forward? The kid who was often passed over as a know-it-all?
She eyed the three-fold poster card in front of the girl that read Jasmine, and pointed her markers toward her. As the overzealous Jasmine squirmed on the edge of her chair, flailing spirit fingers over her head, Julie nodded. “Okay, Jasmine. Can you tell us about a time when you wanted something, but didn’t have enough money?”
Almost instantly, the fire that was bursting from Jasmine fizzled as she began to share her story. With downcast eyes and antsy feet, she began speaking. “When I was a little girl,” she explained, as if the time had been so long ago. “I asked my mom for a bed of my own, but she said we didn’t have enough money and I had to wait until I was older. So, I have to share a bed with my sisters.”
Julie’s words caught in her throat as her eyes darted around the room. She had expected a rumble of laughter from the other kids, but as she took in their small innocent faces, there was nothing but understanding in their eyes.
She’d expected video games and electronics, or dolls, or the latest shoes, but a bed to call her own? Suddenly, Julie felt embarrassed by her shock. This was normal for these sweet children. It was the hand they’d been dealt, still they smiled and laughed freely, offering their good nature as their only means of bartering.
In the corner, her eyes found Nico’s whose were serious, and—if she wasn’t mistaken—empathetic. He gave her a light-hearted smile and returned to his paperwork on the desk.
“Good, good job.” She cleared her throat, searching for her place in her lesson plan. “That’s an excellent example,” she said.
For the remainder of the class, she couldn’t help wanting to be close to the kids. She wanted to build up their self-esteem and encourage them. She listened with a discerning ear and observed them, wishing she could do much more for them than teach them about the difference between wants and needs.
All of their lives, she was sure it had been instilled in them through hand-me-downs and shared everything, wishing for just one thing to call theirs and only theirs. Though she knew it was an important lesson for them to learn, half of her wished they didn’t need to know how to scrimp and scrounge, saving their pennies. That they had the luxury of wanting the latest Black Friday toy, and not food, new clothes, and a bed they didn’t have to share.
When the bell rang, Julie exhaled a sigh of exhaustion. She had come into the class today, dreading the sight of Nico and their awkward exchanges. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be so involved in the kids and the lesson that she would think of him only in passing glances.
Though it was strained between them, he had remained professional and kept their personal issues out of the classroom. But now, as she hugged the kids and told them how much she was looking forward to seeing them tomorrow as they filed out of the room, the tension in the air thickened.
She glanced over at Nico, gathering her purse. “Thanks for today. I really enjoyed the time with the kids. They’re so smart and sweet.” She bit her lip, her mouth growing dry.
“You did a really great job with the kids. I think they enjoyed it, too,” he said.
“Think so?”
His face reddened and his jaw clenched as he sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Julie said.
“Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just…” His voice was curt and controlled at first, then it trailed off and he darted his eyes toward the door.
Julie followed his line of vision and turned, thankful for the interruption. Jasmine, the eager little girl who reminded Julie of her younger self, stood at the door with a backpack twice her size hung over her shoulders.
“Hi Jasmine. Did you forget something, honey?” Julie asked, searching the desk tops and chairs for a jacket or pencil box left behind.
“Um…I wanted to ask you a question, Ms. Laurich?”
Surprise washed over Julie. She blinked hard and clapped her hands together, unsure what else to do with them, then she bent down to the girl’s height. “Oh, okay. Sure.” She flashed a nervous look over her shoulder at Nico before returning with a wide grin. “What kind of question do you have for me, sweetheart?”
“You work for a bank, right?” she said.
“Yes, Jasmine, that’s right.” Julie agreed hesitantly, unsure where the girl’s questioning was going. “That’s how I earn money. Remember we talked about how adults have things they have to pay for with the money they earn?” As the girl nodded, Julie asked her to recall the term they had learned.
She lit up with the glow of a person who knows the right answer. “Monthly expenses,” she said, seeming pleased with herself for remembering.
“Good job.” Julie continued. “Now what did you want to know about banks?”
She shifted on her feet. “Are you the bank manager?” Something resembling hope twinkled in her eyes.
“No, Jasmine, I’m not a bank manager yet, but I hope to be one sometime soon.” Julie lifted her shoulders to appear as cheerful as possible for the girl’s sake. In the back of her mind, she hoped Nico was listening. Maybe he would understand that she needed to pursue her dream as much as he needed to be here for his kids.
“I’m a personal banker. Personal Bankers help the customers and open checking and savings accounts,” she explained.
“Can you help me learn how to become a bank manager?” Her eyes cut to the door where another little girl who looked like a slightly taller version of her with a single side braid waited in the frame.
With renewed resolve and the faintest hint of flattery, Julie told the girl that nothing would make her more proud than to be her mentor. In fact, tomorrow, she would bring her a junior bank badge and they would begin their training. As she left with a noticeably bouncier pep in her step, Julie couldn’t help brightening, too.
Except, when she turned around, Nico stood directly behind her.
“That was nice what you did for her, but please don’t make promises you can’t possibly keep,” he warned. Though she understood the downfalls of giving kids false hope, she had a niggling feeling that they weren’t talking about kids any longer.
“I just wanted to help,” she muttered.
His eyes were cold and his skin flushed. “False promises only end up hurting,” he continued to berate her. He crossed his arms. “For the remainder of the time that you’re here, I’m asking you, please just do the job you’re here to do. Teach them about saving. Engage them. Let them participate. But, don’t go answering any questions that are not directly related to the lesson plan. Do you understand?” he instructed.
Everything about his words and his tone was condescending and full of contempt. He was reprimanding her like one of his children and she felt as small as a grain of sand. All she wanted to do was run away.
This can’t be happening.
A small laugh escaped her as her eyes welled. She pressed her lips tight and gritted her teeth. “Look Nico. We both know this isn’t about what I said to Jasmine. If you want to take it out on me, fine, but don’t shoot me down for trying to help out a kid. I know that what I did to you wasn’t right. I should have told you how I was feeling, but I didn’t even know what I was feeling,” she cried.
Nico stalked off to his desk. He propped his hands on the edges and let his head hang between his shoulders. “I don’t want to hear this,” he muttered.
“What don’t you want to hear? That I love you, too? Is that what you don’t want to hear? Huh?” she yelled as tears trailed down her cheeks. She closed the distance between them with slow measured steps, weaving through tiny desks and chairs, and stood behind him.
With softened words, she began again. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t plan on you. How was I supposed to know? I’ve been working toward this career goal, meeting roadblock after roadblock and finally a door opens, and now I have to choose between the only two things I’ve ever really wanted? It isn’t fair.”
Julie plopped down on a desk at her right side, feeling drained and exhausted. All of her cards were on the table now. It was up to Nico to decide what hand they would make with them.
After a few minutes, he stood upright and turned to Julie.
A tight smile crossed his face as he drew in a slow, steady breath. “So, then I’m glad you understand. Sounds like we both know just how much false promises hurt.”
Three calls sent to voicemail, two letter-length text messages, and one hour later, Liz showed up at Julie’s front door, armed to the hilt with what she considered post-breakup must-haves. She had a year-old bottle of cheap wine, a pint of pralines and cream, and her Netflix password.
Barely a foot in the door and she smothered her best friend in a stifling bear hug, running off at the mouth about “no-good assholes” and “smug bastards.”
With her and Derrick doing so well as of late, Julie felt bad dragging Liz into her mope. In some form or another, he’d be the one who suffered from their man-bashing session. Besides, Julie really couldn’t be mad at Nico. He wasn’t the one who had decided to pick up and move when things were just getting good.
Julie had hoped to be alone to wallow in her own self-inflicted torture, but hearing her friend ante up for battle on her behalf filled her empty insides. Liz had a fierce loyalty that gave Julie life at that moment.
“Liz, you know I love you, right? But, I just want to crash tonight and not think about it.” She scrunched her nose and looked up at Liz with a sheepish grin. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her best friend’s feelings, but Julie prayed that Liz would understand what she was going through.
“Um, no. That’s not going to work for me,” Liz stated. “Fine. If you don’t want to try my sure-fire cure to the break-up blues, fine.” She padded over to the refrigerator and stuffed the ice cream in the freezer. “But you need wine,” she said definitively, as if she were talking about something as dire as medicine.
Julie pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, too exhausted to debate effective vices for speedy healing of relationship rifts. “Okay, but let’s at least take the wine out on the balcony. It’s nice out.”
“That works. You know you need to take advantage before we get up to the triple digits.”
From the top shelf in the cupboard, Liz pulled out two stemless wine glasses and a bowl. “Grab those pistachios, too. I need something to snack on while we get to the good stuff because I’m giving you exactly twenty minutes to get all that Nico shit off your chest and then I’m going to unload on you.”
“About what?” Julie asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. So, start thinking about what you have to tell me, including why you decided to up and skip town without consulting me.” She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips loudly. “I’m expecting some legit answers, too. Better not have anything to do with some asshole, either.”
Julie shook her head, unwilling and unable to come up with a response for Liz’s bossy comments.
In the small junk drawer at the end of the island, she pulled out a citronella candle and a matchbook. Along with the pistachios and her Bluetooth speaker, she took them out onto the balcony and proceeded to set up their makeshift gossip lounge.
By the time she took her place, Liz was already seated facing her with feet curled up into the chair, ready. Liz glanced down at her watch and flashed her attention back to Julie. The clock had started ticking.
At first, Julie thought she might be joking, but the blank stare was all business. The unloading was yet another one of Liz’s breakup-cure must-haves. Once, after Liz and Derrick had split earlier in their relationship, Liz had called an emergency meeting with Julie just to vent. It was structured, timed, and cathartic, by design, meant to unburden her of the negativity and figuratively unclog her heart and mind. She had book references earmarked to the sections on the psychosomatic effects of stress and anguish. According to her paraphrased findings, if she didn’t spill the beans, she could die of a broken heart.
Now, Julie found herself taking note of her lost appetite and the heavy tightness in her aching chest. The sense of hopelessness she couldn’t seem to escape. She took a long swig of her wine and let the air in her chest funnel out in plumes.
Staring at nothing in particular, Julie said, “I think I might have fucked up.”