1
CHRISTIAN COLE
I hang up the call and sit on my truck for a moment too long, contemplating what I just heard. I let the news sink in. I’m surprised that I got offered a job on a weekend. Not bad.
“Are you going to sit there all day or are you going to get to work?” My boss shouts from inside the house. I don’t bother responding to him but instead jump out of the bed of the truck and follow in behind him.
Nigel bumps me the moment I walk in through the front door. “He’s being an ass today,” he says, pointing at the retreating jerk we call boss. David Hollister. He runs Hollister Construction and has always been a tool.
“He’s always an ass,” I respond, stretching my arms, getting ready to continue painting.
Nigel smiles. “True, but there must be something else going on this week. His assholery is at peak level.”
I laugh at Nigel’s words. There’s not a lot of joy that I find in this job, so I’m grateful to have a coworker like Nigel who can always lighten up the mood.
Construction.
Painting.
While some people love this kind of work, I don’t. I never imagined I’d be at someone else’s house making their dreams come true. I didn’t think I’d be building a deck for other people. I wanted to play football.
Now you have a chance to do something different, the voice in the back of my head says.
“What are you thinking about?” Nigel asks as I touch the wall and confirm that it’s ready for a second coat.
I haven’t had enough time to think about it. But it seems that opportunity is knocking at my door and I’d be a fool to not answer. “Coach Morales is retiring,” I tell him.
“Like your former high school football coach, that one?” Nigel asks. He didn’t go to school in Forest Pines. He moved here three years ago because he was searching for something new. Getting away. Funny that he finds coming here a getaway, while I feel trapped.
“Yeah, that one.” He knows about Coach Morales from our conversations about my time playing football at Bragan High.
“And you’re thinking about him retiring because…?” I dip the roller into the container of paint and begin applying the second coat of blue.
I shrug. “They want me to take over his job.”
I hear something fall then Nigel mutters something under his breath. I turn to find that the paint bucket has tipped over and the blue paint is all over the tarp. Thank God we covered that before we started; otherwise, the floors would be ruined.
I spring into action. Lifting the bucket, I use my roller to get as much of the paint from the tarp as possible. I roll it onto the wall and repeat the actions a few more times until I’ve gotten all the paint I can get from the floor. Can’t waste any paint, I imagine Hollister’s voice in the back of my head.
I hate this job.
“Thanks,” Nigel says when it seems everything is under control.
“Don’t mention it.”
“So, they want you to be head coach?” he asks, returning to our conversation.
“Yeah. I actually just got the offer over the phone.”
“What did you say?” Nigel presses as he stands up from his place and heads to the wall opposite me.
“I said yes.” I did. I agreed on the spot without asking for more details. I didn’t need any more information, didn’t want it. I wanted an out from this job. Football was once my dream. Coaching it, while not playing it, is as close as I’m going to get.
“Why are you still here?” Nigel asks, like the moment I accepted the offer I should’ve been out the door. He knows I hate it here.
I shrug. “I can’t just walk out on the job.”
“Why not?” he asks, baffled.
“I need to talk to Hollister about it. I’d like to give him a two-week’s notice, but they need me to go in tomorrow morning.”
“He’s not going to be happy about that. If I were you, I’d leave now and never talk to him again.”
“I’ve got to do this the right way.” I’ve had my life planned out before, only to have the plan go to hell. I don’t want to have to go through that again. I want to make sure that it’s actually going to work out this time.
“You excited to start over?”
I nod. I’m happy to get to do something I love again. The last six years of my life haven’t
been the best. While they started off shaky, I still wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Not even for her.
2
AMARI SANTANA
I can’t believe I’m going back to the place where I grew up. Forest Pines wasn’t great for me the first time around. I’m not really sure why I think it’ll treat me any better the second time.
But even with all my doubts, I still pack my things into my bags and get in the car.
I settle in for the drive to the place I came from.
The place I have avoided for a very long time. Six years, to be exact.
My phone rings as I pull onto the highway for what’ll be the longest drive of my life. A drive down memory lane.
“Hey,” I answer by pressing the button on my steering wheel.
My best friend’s voice fills the vehicle. “’Sup girl!” she says, immediately making me smile. Thank goodness at least that relationship survived the end of high school. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she had left me too.
“What’s up, Emely?” I say, trying to mask the sadness in my voice.
“You know, living my best life, sipping on piña coladas beach side,” she says excitedly. She’s truly been living the life… I wish I had too.
“Why did you let me get a teaching degree again?” I ask, knowing I could never afford to live the life Emely lives with my expected salary. Then again, you couldn’t pay me enough to do what she does.
“Because you thought business administration wasn’t for you,” she says, reminding me.
I nod. I did think that. I still do. Teaching is my passion. “Still wish I were beach side right now with enough drinks to quiet my thoughts,” I tell her.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” I don’t know about that. Emely is always up to something, always on a new adventure.
“Where are you again?” I ask. It’s fall here in the Northeast, so she’s definitely not in this part of the world.
“Mexico! I love it here,” she exclaims.
“See, you definitely can’t complain about your job.”
“Still can. I have a client meeting tonight, so I’m just resting until then,” she says.
“Tonight? It’s Sunday. Where’s the client meeting?” I question, wondering what kind of client wants to meet on a weekend.
“A nearby club… and before you say anything, it’s not my fault the client owns several and wants to show me around so that I can see his business before we talk about how to grow it.”
“Grow his business, you say,” I joke, merging onto the highway that’ll lead me straight to Forest Pines.
“Very funny, Amari. Anyway, I called you and here you are trying to distract me from what I wanted to ask you.” She got me there. I knew she was calling because of this, because of the move. My best friend wouldn’t forget. Not after all the tears she saw me cry.