Chapter 5: Tests, Factories, and First Love

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 gripped my clothes tightly, not expecting I would agree. 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 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 mowing the lawn! 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 at least 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 want to hide going to college from us—a girl studying is just to make yourself look good to outsiders.”

“Letting you finish high school was already generous. I’ve arranged a match for you—you’ll go meet 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 as repayment 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 flickered 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 pulled down the shutter 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. Made a decision: I would not let them break me.

I took my luggage and caught the bus back to Houston overnight. The sky in Houston was clear. Yvette took out her savings to lend me. I told Yvette my story, asked if she could lend me money, begged her to help, said I’d write an IOU. I wrote and signed an IOU, even pressed my fingerprint. 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. 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 shake off his hand.

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

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

I still couldn’t say it. At least let him keep a good impression of me. “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 leave him with a graceful goodbye. But I was too weak. 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.

“Sean, will you forget me?”

“No, I’ll never forget you.”

“Can you always remember the good in me?”

He nodded, brushing the hair from my face.

Meeting Sean was like reaching for the moon—beautiful, but out of reach. I couldn’t even face my own fate, let alone Sean. Mayflies shouldn’t dream of the difference between morning and night.

I watched him walk away, the bracelet heavy on my wrist. I promised myself I’d let him go. Even if it broke me.

Later, Sean still called often, but I never answered. His messages piled up in my inbox. Unread, but never deleted. Sometimes, I’d read them late at night, crying silently into my pillow.

“Mariah, I’m going abroad to study. Do you really hate me? I’ve sent so many messages—why won’t you reply, even once? If you want to find me, you can text me. I won’t change my number. Or you can come to America—I’m at the University of Chicago. But I’ve grown up, I won’t bother you anymore. Best wishes, year after year, all the best.”

That was his last message to me. He was truly a good person. But our lives were always on parallel tracks.

I stared at the screen for hours, memorizing his words. I was very busy in college. The money I owed Yvette weighed on me like a thousand-pound stone.

I layered sweaters under my old jacket, shivering on the walk to work. I’d blow on my hands, pretending I didn’t notice the cold.

The boss’s wife always joked, “Young girls just love to look pretty—wearing so little in winter, afraid to look fat in more layers? Look, your lips are purple from the cold. How can you care about looks more than your health? Really unreasonable!”

Her teasing was gentle, but I could hear the concern in her voice.

I smiled awkwardly. Someone who grew up with nothing clings to their pride. I didn’t argue. “I’m not cold, really.”

She shook her head, muttering about stubborn kids, and handed me a cup of hot tea. I held it tight, letting the warmth seep into my bones.

The boss’s wife was kind. After work, she gave me a winter coat she didn’t want. “I’ve worn this for years, was going to throw it out. It’s so cold outside, and already snowing. Don’t mind if it’s ugly—just wear it, take it off indoors. No need to return it, it’s a hassle.”

I hugged the coat to my chest, tears prickling my eyes.

How could I care if it was ugly? That was my first real winter coat. Every time I pulled it on, I remembered her kindness.