Chapter 4: Running on Empty, Dreaming of More

I sat at the long dining table, my fork trembling in my hand. I smiled shyly, trying to hide my awe—and my longing.

I never knew girls could be more cherished than boys. It was like a fairy tale. I’d never eaten lobster and didn’t know how to eat it without embarrassing myself, so I lied and said I was allergic to shellfish. Sean was easygoing, joked that I had no luck. I laughed along, trying to hide my feelings.

After dinner, his grandma pressed a slice of chocolate cake into my hand, winking as she said, “Take it for later, honey. A girl’s gotta have her treats.”

Sean, can’t you stop being so good to me? I repeated this to myself countless times. I knew my heart was already wavering, but I shouldn’t let it. Still, I couldn’t help but get close to him—I enjoyed being with him, even the wind seemed sweet.

At night, I’d lie awake, replaying our conversations, clutching the bracelet he gave me. I told myself to be careful, but my heart wouldn’t listen.

A month passed quickly. I had to quit and go to college. That day, I carried my luggage home, planning to leave without saying goodbye, but ran into him again at the supermarket entrance. He asked where I was going with my luggage. I lied again, saying I was going to college and wanted to visit my grandparents before school, just like he came to Houston.

He looked at me, eyes searching, but didn’t press. I wondered if he saw through me, if he knew I was scared to say goodbye.

Sean leaned on the railing. “Mariah, which university are you going to?”

I told him St. Louis University. He said, “Then I’ll go to St. Louis for college too. I’ll find you there, and we can still be together.”

I held onto my bag, not expecting to say yes. He comforted me, “Anyway, I can go wherever—it’s all the same.”

His confidence made me ache. I wished I could believe life was that simple.

Yes, people like him can go wherever they want, live however they want. I never could.

I watched him walk away, wishing I could follow, but knowing I couldn’t.

I planned to go home and pack, but didn’t expect this return would be a nightmare. My stepmom stole my money while I was out working in the fields, cutting grass for the goats. I should have known—why would she help me pack for no reason? She was never so kind.

I found my suitcase open, my savings gone. My hands shook with rage and disbelief. I confronted her, but she just shrugged.

“I raised an ungrateful brat like you for more than ten years—if not for love, then for all the work I put in. What’s wrong with taking some of your money?”

Her voice was cold, unapologetic. I felt the last thread of hope snap inside me.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to sneak off to college. What’s the point? It’s not like it’s for us.”

“Letting you finish high school was already generous. I set you up with someone—you’re meeting him the day after tomorrow.”

Her words echoed in my ears, making me dizzy. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call my brother, but he’d already promised to pay my living expenses—I didn’t want him to cover tuition too. I braved the rain to my dad’s garage to beg him, pleaded for him to make my stepmom return my money, but he said she was right. He told me to go on the blind date, then give him the dowry money, to pay him back for raising me.

I knelt on the oil-stained concrete outside the garage, sobbing until my voice was hoarse. The neighbors gathered, their voices rising in anger at my dad’s stubbornness.

Why is it that for other people, getting into college is a family honor?

I watched the sky darken, the streetlights flickering on, feeling more alone than ever.

No matter how much Dad drove me away, I knelt outside the garage and refused to leave. I cried my heart out, blamed myself, blamed fate, even blamed this unfair world. Neighbors passing by criticized Dad for being so short-sighted, saying if I got into college, he should send me to study. Dad couldn’t take the gossip, so he rolled down the garage door and closed the garage. For a bit of money, he gave up his precious pride.

As the metal shutter clanged down, I realized I was truly on my own. I wiped my tears, stood up, and made a decision: I would not let them break me.

I took my luggage and caught the bus back to Houston overnight. I told Yvette my story, asked if she could lend me money, begged her to help, said I’d write an IOU. The sky in Houston was clear. Yvette took out her savings to lend me, and I wrote and signed an IOU, signed it and everything. I promised to repay her before New Year.

She hugged me tight, promising we’d both make it out. That night, I slept with the IOU under my pillow, feeling hope flicker back to life.

After borrowing the money, I planned to go straight to school. But I ran into Sean again at the supermarket entrance. He smiled brightly and ran over: “Why are you back so soon? Missed me? Why didn’t you answer my calls these past few days?”

His smile faltered when he saw my red eyes. I tried to hide behind my hair, but he wouldn’t let me.

I must have looked a mess, so I didn’t dare look up. Sean smiled again, thinking I was angry, and took my hand to cheer me up. “What’s wrong? Only a few days apart and you don’t recognize me?”

His touch was gentle, but I pulled away, afraid he’d see how broken I felt.

No one had ever treated me like this, but I could only pull away.

“Sean, I’m sorry. I’ve been lying to you.”

He frowned, confusion clouding his eyes. “What did you lie about?”

I just wanted him to remember me in a good light. “I lied. I’m not from St. Louis University. Don’t come looking for me.”

He took a step closer, his voice soft. “That’s nothing. So tell me, where are you? Wherever you are, I’ll find you.”

I wanted to say goodbye the right way, but I couldn’t. I stood still, tears streaming down uncontrollably, unable to say a word. Sean was clueless, didn’t know what he’d done wrong, so he just hugged me tightly, apologizing over and over.

I melted into his embrace, wishing I could stay there forever. But I knew I couldn’t drag him into my mess.