"When you were young, you were on welfare! And we aren't living much better than that. You can't ever pay for anything good, and you work three jobs. What's the point? I don't want to go to the Y this year. I want to do the Dance Diva camp with Kellis and Trish."
"I work hard to make sure you have a nice apartment, instead of the projects, where I grew up. You don't ever have the police running through this building all hours of the night and day. You don't need to worry about walking down the street as soon as the sun goes down, and you've always got food in your belly."
"Yeah, welfare food.”
"I don't have time for this. Listen, you can go to the Y, or you can find a summer job and start paying for your own things if I ain't doing good enough for you. It's your choice. I've gotta get to work. I'm gonna be late."
I never thought about how hard she was working just to keep the four of us fed, clothed and in school. Like most 13-years-olds, I was only thinking about myself and my friends. I was a brat.
I cringe when I remember how hurt she was when she came home. She told that she could take on some extra shifts and get me into a better program. It would still be at the Y, but she assured me it would be nicer than the glorified daycare I usually went to. By then I was sullen and sulky though and threw her good intentions in her face like the ingrate I was. I decided to pick up a job babysitting some kids in my building like she suggested, and I was none too pleasant about it.
"I got a job. I don't want to go to any cheap programs at the Y anymore anyway. I'm sick of being broke all the time."
I knew I hurt her. I had meant to at the time. Like most teenagers, I wasn't always nice to my mama. I just didn't understand how damn hard she worked to give us the little we had. It wasn't until it was too late that I was grateful for all she had done for me.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice us pull up to the intimidating building until the driver actually opened my door. I snap back into the moment, a moment I'm dreading and looking forward to in equal measure. Matthew is standing at the large entryway looking unbelievably handsome in a navy blue tux. I can see how the color has made his eyes sparkle from here, and we're still fifteen feet away from each other. Here goes nothing, I guess.
I just get out of the limo, and Matthew is by my side, wow he's quick! Stealthy too. Sure enough, his eyes are not just gleaming but hypnotic when he's this close. I barely remember that I wanted to tell him something. If you asked me my name, I would struggle to give you the answer right now. You'd never know that I'm on the Dean's List in a prestigious masters program from the way I'm staring at him, slack-jawed right now. With effort, I manage to close my mouth. I don't want this guy thinking I'm another one of his fan-girls.
"You look perfect.” His eyes travel over me. “Shall we?" Matthew extends his hand.
Before I know it, I'm in an elevator heading up to the roof of the building, hand-in-hand with my sexy billionaire date. I don't say a word the entire way up. I think he should be the one to break the ice since he's the one who insisted on this date. Yet, the only sound is the floors whirring by us on our way upward.
When the doors open, we step out onto a partially enclosed deck that overlooks the city. It’s fancy enough to be any five-star restaurant in New York, but it's clearly a place for the residents of the building to lounge. Is this where he's taking me? I look around. There's nothing but empty tables and chairs surrounding us.
“Are we the first ones here?” I realize that it is rather early for one of these functions, but I thought that something would be set up by now.
"Oh, the charity event isn’t here. I'm sorry, this is as far as the elevator will take us. I'm afraid we have to walk the last two flights.” He smiles down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you're up for it."
"I've been on the track team since I was twelve, I don't think a couple stairs are going to do me in."
"Glad to hear it!" He tugs me by the hand, and I follow him up the steep cement staircase and then another. I refuse to slow my pace or show him that I'm getting a little winded, but it’s a relief when we reach the top step. I’m relieved, then terrified. As we step out onto the open rooftop, I see a sleek, black helicopter waiting for us with a pilot all suited up inside.
Oh no. Oh my good lord, no. My heart is pounding, my ears are ringing, my knees could very well give out. Please don't let that be for us. Please, please, please!!!
Matthew looks at me breaking out in a cold sweat. "I thought you were a track champ," he teases. He must think that my weak knees and slick forehead are because I’m winded by the stairs. What he doesn't know is that I've never been in a plane before, not a plane, not a helicopter, not even a Ferris wheel. I'm terrified of heights. Petrified.