Brighter Than the Sun, page 19
From the corner of my eye, I notice that Olivia and Simon are nodding. After a long moment of silence, Tony clears his throat and starts talking about his driver’s license test, which he’s taking tomorrow, but I find it hard to focus on what he’s saying.
All I can think about is Bruno, and the fact that the hearing is only a couple of weeks away. And as Ana María’s words spin around in my mind, I start to feel anxiety rising in my chest. What do you mean, you can’t do it?
The truth is, once the day of the hearing comes around and Bruno’s future is decided, all I’ll be left with will be the thought that I had something to offer—something that may have helped him—and I was either unable or unwilling to hand it over.
The end of the week comes as a relief. It’s not only the fact that this is a pay week, which means I’ll be getting a check tonight, but I also can’t wait to see Nick. I can’t wait to spend a few hours next to him and come up with a plan for our second date this weekend.
Before heading out for my shift, I eat dinner early next to Ari and Nancy, as we do every Friday.
“Sol, could you use your employee discount to buy some towels at the store tonight?” Nancy asks halfway through the meal. “I’ll give you the money, and all.”
Ari looks up from her food. “We already have lots of towels.”
“I know, but I want Ceci to have a fresh set for this weekend.”
“Sure,” I say, smiling at Nancy. “I’ll get them.”
I take the trolley up to San Diego right after we finish eating and head straight for the bath section as soon as I walk into the store. Nancy didn’t specify which color she wanted, so I pick a set of light blue towels that’s on discount. After paying for them, I head up to the fourth floor so I can stuff them in a locker and clock in before the start of my shift.
The stockroom has gone back to normal by now. Everyone who was sick earlier in the week has slowly but surely returned to work, and the place feels as lively as always tonight.
“Sol!” Lina says when I join the table. She may have been gone for barely a few days, but now she’s standing between Kelly and Marcos, smiling brightly at me as if we hadn’t seen each other in years.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Good, good. Just happy to be back.”
“What was the stockroom like without us?” Kelly asks.
I turn to meet Nick’s eyes, only to find a suppressed smile on his face. As great as it is to have everyone back, it’s hard to deny that the last few days were some of the best ones I’ve had since I started working here. With a near-empty stockroom and no one to distract us, Nick and I were able to forget about everyone and everything, and just focus on each other.
“It was miserable,” he answers, which earns him sympathetic glances from Lina and Kelly.
“Well, we missed you guys as well!” Lina says, tilting her head to one side.
While she talks about all the shows she caught up on during her sick days, I keep waiting for the right time to turn toward Nick and ask about our plans for the weekend. But before I’ve had a chance to say anything, I hear my name being called from across the warehouse.
“María de la Soledad?”
I look up to find Helen, the woman from Human Resources, standing at the doorway. I only ever see her when she hands me my paychecks, except for the few times I’ve run into her on the elevator and we’ve been forced to make awkward small talk. I have no idea why she would come all the way down here looking for me.
“Yeah?”
“Can you come with me for a second?” she asks.
My first instinct is to think about my paycheck. Maybe she has questions about the hours I logged over the last couple of weeks. Or perhaps—I think hopefully—she’s about to offer me a different job. With the holidays getting closer, maybe sales positions have opened up, and I might be able to get a job similar to Ari’s, with convenient after-school shifts.
Whatever her reason for wanting to talk to me, Helen doesn’t reveal even the slightest trace of emotion as I follow her out of the stockroom.
“Uh… any fun plans for the weekend?” I ask her while we ride the elevator up to the fourth floor, trying to break the dead silence between us.
“Not really,” she says, pursing her lips. She doesn’t offer anything else, doesn’t ask me about my own weekend, and so I choose to drop it and wait out the elevator ride in silence.
Helen leads me through the same hallways we went down when I came in for my interview, and she stops in front of the open door of one of the small offices.
“After you,” she says with a small nod.
I walk into the office, but I’ve only taken a couple of steps before I stop in my tracks. There is someone already in the room. Bill is standing in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest, looking more serious than I have ever seen him.
Any hope I had that this could be something good slips away immediately. My arms and legs feel numb as I sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and wait for Helen to take a seat across from me.
“María, I asked you here to talk about a delicate matter,” she says.
My mind starts racing. I resist the urge to turn toward Bill. I wish I could look into his eyes, read his expression, and get a sense of what is about to happen, but I force myself to stay still.
Helen remains silent for only an instant, but it seems to go on forever, as I try to think of any reasons why I might be in trouble. Could they have discovered a lie I told during my interview? I can barely remember the questions Helen asked me, but maybe I wasn’t a hundred percent truthful. Or maybe this is about the other day, when Nancy overslept and I made it to my shift a few minutes late—maybe they’re about to give me a warning about clocking in on time from now on.
“When you first joined the team at Wallen’s, you received training on the store’s theft policy. Is that correct?”
Theft? I ask myself, even as I nod, vaguely remembering the pamphlets Helen gave me and a brief talk Nick and I had about the consequences of stealing from the store.
“Then you must be aware that we have a no-tolerance attitude toward stealing.”
I have no idea where or how I find the strength in me to speak up, because my heart seems to be stuck in my throat. “But—but I haven’t stolen anything,” I say.
Helen turns to look over her shoulder, and Bill uncrosses his arms, taking a step forward.
“Soledad, do you remember working on a crate of dresses earlier this week?” he asks.
“I—I work on a lot of crates every day.”
“The one I’m talking about came in on Monday. It was a new product shipment from Erdem.” He pauses briefly to observe my reaction, but I remain motionless in my seat. “In fact… we have footage of you working on it.”
I think I remember. This must’ve been one of the crates left over from the morning shipment—the ones I was rushing to finish because half the warehouse was out sick and Nick and I still needed to get through a lot of work before the end of my shift.
Helen leans forward over the desk. “The footage shows you working inside the stockroom, all by yourself.”
“I was only alone for a few minutes,” I say firmly.
“The thing, María, is that the dress we’re talking about is worth over sixteen hundred dollars. It’s listed on the shipment slips, but when a customer came by asking for it, it was nowhere to be found. We had no option but to look back and see what had happened.”
Helen falls silent. I feel as though I’m under a spotlight, as though she and Bill are both looking at me carefully, searching for any signs that might give me away. I try my best to keep my face straight, even as my hands start sweating uncontrollably.
“I am not accusing you of stealing,” Helen says. “I want to make that very clear. But we are investigating what happened, and part of that involves asking: Did you take that dress home with you on Monday evening?”
I’m speechless. The room around me seems too bright all of a sudden, because I can’t even believe we’re here, having this conversation. I can’t believe this is happening, or that it will ultimately come down to my word against theirs, because there’s no one else who can back me up.
I’m not sure how long it takes me to speak up, but finally, I clear my throat. “I didn’t take anything.”
Helen and Bill stare into each other’s eyes. I can already tell they don’t believe me, but there’s no way to make them see the truth. I’ve never stolen anything in my life. I would never risk my job here, but there’s not much I can do if they’ve already made up their minds.
Helen lets out a long sigh that fills the entire room. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to put you under administrative leave—at least until we get a bit more clarity on this situation.”
“Wh-what does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that, while we figure out what happened here, it would be best if you didn’t come in for your scheduled shifts.”
“So… am I fired?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“No,” Helen says firmly. “You’re still an employee at the store. That has not changed… yet.”
“Will I still get paid?”
Helen purses her lips. “Unfortunately, no.”
My stomach twists. I stop breathing. The room around me starts getting brighter again, and I start to feel like I’m spinning. It’s lucky I’m sitting down, because I’m certain I would’ve crumbled on the spot if I had been standing.
“I have a few papers I need you to sign,” Helen says. “Please wait here until I go get them, and I’ll explain the next steps to you.”
She gets up to leave, and I’m left alone in the room with Bill. I can’t speak up, can’t even turn toward him. I’m not sure if he’s trying to meet my gaze, if there is something he wants to say to me, but I don’t even care right now—not while the world around me is still spinning so fast that I feel like I’m going to pass out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THERE ARE A FEW THINGS ABOUT TONIGHT THAT I don’t remember.
I don’t remember stepping out of the office. I think I cried at some point, but I can’t be certain. Helen must’ve guided me out of there and walked me toward the exit of the store, because I don’t think I would’ve been able to do those things on my own.
I don’t remember what either of us said when we parted ways, or if we said anything at all. I barely even remember walking up to the MTS station, but I do know the air inside the trolley felt grim and silent, as if someone had died.
Even now, I’m not sure how I managed to get myself all the way down to Palomar Street and to Ari’s house. All I know is that the sound of the front door banging shut behind me makes me jump, bringing me back into my body, into the real world.
“Who’s there?” Nancy calls from within her bedroom.
A light comes on, and a second later she appears, wearing her pajamas.
“Oh, mija, I wasn’t expecting you until much later,” she says. “Did your shift end early?”
I remain still by the door, unable to move, unable to say anything. All I can think about is having to break the news to Papi that I’ve been put on leave—that I may not be able to bring paychecks home for a while. Even worse is the thought of having to explain why this is all happening. Tears form in my eyes when I think about the look on Abuela’s face when she hears I’ve been accused of stealing, the disappointment there’ll be in Diego’s gaze.
“Sol,” Nancy says. “Mija, what’s wrong?”
In a quick movement, she comes to stand next to me and guides me toward the kitchen table. I sit down on a chair, and she sits down right next to me, holding on tight to both of my hands.
“Where’s Ari?” is the first thing I ask.
“She’s still out,” Nancy says. In the back of my mind, I remember the plans Ari and all of them mentioned earlier today—they were going to see a movie, and then they were going to head to Camila’s house.
“Tell me everything,” Nancy says. When I meet her eyes, I see Ari in them. I see friendship, and kindness, and eagerness to help.
And so I tell her. I tell her about my shift at the store on Monday, and how I had to rush through some of the crates. I tell her that the security cameras show me working by myself inside the stockroom, and the fact that a dress has gone missing—a dress that costs more than three of my paychecks combined.
“They… they asked me if I took it,” I say, trying my hardest to keep my voice steady even though my chest is heaving. “They think I stole it.”
“Then they must not know you,” Nancy says softly. “But I do—I know you, mija, and I know you would’ve never done that.”
I nod to myself, trying to slow down my breathing. This still doesn’t feel real. I can’t help but wonder if it’s nothing but a strange nightmare I dreamed up, because I’m only just beginning to understand everything that this means—that there’ll be no more shifts at Wallen’s with Nick, no more commuting to and from San Diego, no more money to bring to my family.
“Did they fire you?” Nancy asks me after a moment of silence.
“No,” I say. “Not yet. But… I just know they’re not gonna let me come back. I’m gonna have to find a new job, and… and my family—they’re gonna have to—”
“Slow down,” Nancy says. “Do you have any idea what really happened? Can you think of where that dress might’ve ended up?”
“No,” I say. “Nothing like this has ever happened—even when I put the clothes on the wrong racks by accident, they always ended up where they needed to be. I’ve never gotten in trouble.”
I think about Nick. I think about the fact that he must’ve been waiting for me to come back down to the stockroom, but I never did. A sharp pain comes to my stomach when I think that he’ll have to hear from Bill later on that I’ve been accused of stealing, and that I won’t be coming to work anymore.
“I need to go home.” The realization hits me harshly, suddenly. It’s almost as if a bucket of cold water has been dropped on top of me, because no matter how much I’ve wanted to fool myself into believing that this is my home, that I’m a sister to Ari, and a daughter to Nancy, none of those things is true.
I’m only here because of my job at Wallen’s, because I need somewhere to sleep so I can make it into my early and late shifts. But now, without my job at the store, I don’t think there’s any room for me in this house. There’s no place for me in this family, no reason for me to be here any longer.
“You can leave in the morning,” Nancy says. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
With a sideways glance at the time on the microwave, I see it’s not even nine yet. I might be able to get back to Tijuana before the streets start to feel unsafe.
“No, I—I should really try to get back.”
Nancy frowns for a long moment, but she doesn’t try to stop me. Slowly, I get to my feet and stumble my way into Ceci’s bedroom so I can start packing.
I yank open the closet door to grab the duffel bag I brought with me all those weeks ago. I throw it over the bed and start taking clothes off their hangers, telling myself I should take everything. I don’t think I’ll have any reason to come back next week.
While I pack, tears fall from my eyes, but I force myself to sob quietly. I don’t want Nancy to hear me crying.
Once I’m done, I wipe my tears and walk out of the room carrying my duffel bag over one shoulder and my school backpack over the other. Nancy is still sitting in the kitchen, her back straight and her eyes wide, exactly as she was when I left her.
I stand awkwardly in front of her for a second, not knowing what to say.
“Thank you, Nancy—for everything. I—”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Nancy replies, getting up from her chair. “You’re always welcome here. And you’ll be back soon. I know you will be.”
I press my lips together, trying to stop myself from crying. Perhaps she’s right—I’ll have to come back sooner rather than later. I’ll need to find a new job, and keep making money to help my family, but I have no idea when that will be—or what life will look like by the time that happens.
In a sudden movement, Nancy takes a step closer to me. “I’ll drive you, mija.”
“I can take the trolley. It’s fine.”
“No,” she says. “Come on.”
Without another word, Nancy turns toward the door, and I follow her. I don’t have the energy to argue right now, or to refuse her help, so I hop in the car with her and sit quietly in the passenger seat while we make our way through the near-empty streets of her neighborhood.
The traffic on the highway going to San Ysidro can be pretty bad on Fridays, but today it moves at a decent pace. It takes us less than thirty minutes to get there, and Nancy brings me as far as she can—all the way to a sign that says TO MEXICO, which has an arrow that points toward the entrance of the tunnel.
“Thank you again, Nancy.”
“You’re welcome, mija,” she says to me. “Say hi to your family for me.”
“I will.”
I reach for the door handle. I’m about to pull it when I remember something.
“The towels,” I say, and all of a sudden, I can’t hold it in. The tears I’ve been trying to hide from Nancy come pouring from my eyes, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
“I forgot the towels,” I sob. “I—I bought them, but I put them inside a locker in the staff room, and… and I didn’t remember to grab them before leaving the store.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nancy says, reaching for one of my hands and squeezing it. “Ari will get them on Monday. Don’t worry about that, mija.”
“But—but Ceci,” I say. “She won’t have fresh towels, like you wanted her to.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She pulls me in for a hug, and I allow myself to fall into her arms.
“It’s okay, mija,” she whispers as she touches the back of my hair with one hand. “It’ll all be okay.”
I have no idea how long we remain there, parked along the sidewalk right in front of the entrance of the tunnel to Mexico. I just keep crying into Nancy’s shoulders, and she keeps her arms wrapped around me, waiting patiently for my eyes to run dry.
