EJShaun.com

“Nah, this ain’t all bad. Least I got the callback. Thanks, Dad. Promise I’ll be gone my first fall class. Saving up small stacks till then. Y’all laugh, but I’ll clean them toilets up and down. Where the stalls at?”

Sitting in the break room, Kelvin teetered on the back two legs of his chair. He rapped to himself while he scrolled through his phone. One hand held the table for balance. The other thumbed through his social media. He checked the latest news in hip-hop, skimmed the Hollywood buzz. His feet kicked under him, making his chair wobble.

He didn’t follow a lot of people online. A lot of people didn’t follow him. His feed mainly included his buddies. Most of them were either skaters or snowboarders. Several were trying to go pro, and Kelvin liked to show his support. He wasn’t great on a skateboard, but he could shred in the snow. His buddies said he had a talent for going big.

As he scrolled, a couple celebrities popped up on his feed. One rapper promoted her new album, A Fight in the Battle. Another thanked her fans for her recent success. She went viral last week after somebody confronted her at a party. They shoved their phone in her face and told her to spit. She did, unleashing like a firehose. Kelvin shared the video. He liked to show his support for the underground, too.

His favorite celebrity was an actress named Aliyah Gavins. She didn’t post often, but he still followed all her accounts. He’d been a fan for years and seen almost everything she’d been in. He watched her stuff whenever he was feeling down. His last two months had been kinda rough, but that didn’t compare to her last two years.

“Even when she doesn’t have a job, she’s a boss. Million problems on her shoulders still she walks with a hop. Grinding at it, always smiling through the gossip and the flops. Now, if only they could find a way to not kill her off.”

He chuckled to himself then continued scrolling. A picture of his ex-girlfriend soon popped up. He frowned. Arm in arm, they hung on each other, smiling in goggles, hats, and puffy coats. Her friends were on a chairlift in the background. Behind them, the Colorado Rockies cut into a crisp blue sky. The post was from winter break. The college he went to sat in the mountains and was built beside an incredible set of slopes. He missed them. And he missed her.

In the picture, they were laughing at themselves. They got in line at the wrong chairlift, blaming each other for the mishap. Her friends skied and preferred the more gradual slopes. They had to unstrap their boots to make the walk to the other lift. He held their snowboards while she took the picture.

Her name was Imani, and she could shred, too. She beat him the first time they raced down the mountain. He did a backflip at the beginning that he probably should’ve saved. He couldn’t catch her after that. She never let him forget it.

She nestled against him in the picture, fitting perfectly under his arm. Even with her curly hair, she only came to his chin on her tiptoes. She called him Beanstalk. He called her Snow Bunny. They hated it. Her round face beamed like a spotlight when she smiled.

He loved his hair back then. She used to brush it for him almost every day. The thick blond tufts stuck out of his hat, all neat and shiny. Nowadays it was just a mess. He grew it long to hide his big ears. He wished he could’ve grown a beard. A little stubble might’ve helped him look his age. Imani said she loved his baby-face, but she also said he had nice eyes, and they were the most boring shade of hazel.

He missed her so much.

“At times it’s really heavy. At times it’s like a feather. At times I feel so selfish, hoping we’ll get back together. I know your family’s hurting, and I hope your dad gets better. But it’s more about you coming back to school next semester. At times, I want to scream. At times, I want to whisper. At times, I swear I’m holding onto hope, getting blisters—”

A group of coworkers walked into the break room, interrupting him. He flinched and almost fell over in his chair. The group gathered around the coffee machines to chat and refill their mugs. The air smelled of a rich dark roast. He always brewed a few pots before his afternoon break.

Nobody noticed him sitting in the far corner. He took the table in the back to avoid conversation. At nineteen, he was the youngest in the office and didn’t have anything to talk about.He interned at a mid-sized marketing firm near Hollywood. His dad got him the position. He spent most his time cleaning or watering the plants. Sometimes he picked up the parking lot. He enjoyed the work outside. The sun lightened his hair and tanned his arms.

His phone buzzed, pulling his attention back. A notification appeared on his screen. The post was from Aliyah. He yanked his phone closer to read it. His chair wobbled again.

We got another one! Today at 5:45, behind the old Hotel Enamor, I’ll be signing autographs and taking pictures for anyone who can make it. We got about fifteen minutes this time. Amazing shopping up and down the block, too. Hope to see you out. Always, Li.

A chill ran up his spine. The Hotel Enamor? Aliyah did a signing there last year. He never went, but he mapped it from his house. His work was in the same direction. If he remembered right, the hotel was about thirty minutes away. He got off at five. Her signing was at 5:45.

In his excitement, he leaned back too far and lost his balance. He tried to kick, pulling on the table. The legs screeched across the tile floor. His chair ended up turning sideways as it toppled. He rolled off the back then hopped to his feet like he meant to do it. The whole room stared.

“My bad,” he chuckled, brushing his hair aside. His cheeks flushed red.

Everybody eventually returned to what they were doing. Kelvin picked up his chair once the focus was off him. He ran out the room shortly after. His break wasn’t over yet, but he decided to spend the rest of it in his car.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about her signings. He wanted to go to one last year, but he worked two jobs and couldn’t ever take off. She rarely scheduled them with enough notice to find somebody to cover. He regretted not getting her autograph before he left for school. It seemed being back gave him a second chance. He couldn’t not go.

He posted a comment on his way out.

I’ll be there.