I was in the bathroom when I got the call. I was in the midst of putting hair product on my head and the phone starts to ring. I had two choices at that moment, wash my hands and get the damn phone because it might be important, or let it go to my answering machine since nobody calls the home phone but creditors anyway. But then again since I also let my cell phone contract get cancelled for two years running, I’d better turn my attention to my only phone line. I wash my hands and head to the kitchen. I pick up the phone, I hear a female voice on the other end. It’s a perky voice, so that tells me that the girl’s very young, fresh out of high school. She tells me that she’s from Volt Staffing and wanted to invite me for a job interview in Addison for a call center position for Apple. I replied, “The computer company?” The girl quickly reassured me that the company that I’ll work for is in fact the one and only Apple Incorporated. Without hesitation, I said I’ll be there. The girl tells me that there is a group interview for tomorrow at 10am. Dress business casual. She provided the address. I said thank you and hung up the phone.

The year 2008 for me had the usual ups and downs; more downs minus the ups. It was only four years since I graduated from college and I was no where closer to where I wanted to be than I was the year before. All of my so-called college friends moved on and moved out of Denton where we all went to the University of North Texas. Each of them began living exciting lives with purpose and promise. All the while I continue to lag behind like the insufferable runt of the litter. I had dreams, big fantastic kick-ass dreams. I would become a famous writer/director type living in Austin where all the intellectuals live. I would make four films a year and get all of the respect and admiration from all my fans at Comic-Con. I would go the most lavish parties and dinners, where I would meet and greet all of the famous faces that I’d watch on TV or in movies. And for the icing on the cake, I would make history as the first black filmmaker to win an academy award. Does it some ridiculous? It is. BS? Definitely. That’s what makes dreams so wonderful, because no matter how much you suck at public speaking, or how broke or unattractive you are, and no matter how many jobs you get fired from, your dreams will always be beautiful, pristine, and prefect. I’d like to also think of it as a pretentious middle finger.

Currently my dreams have been my waking nightmare. I should have left this town a long time ago, but something always held me back. And I’m paying for it big time. In one year alone I’ve gone through three jobs. It wasn’t my fault. Honestly. But when you’re stuck in a dead-end job, and managers who are more interested in themselves, and work with… idiots how can I not be expected to hold a job when it’s not the job that I really want. Hence the dreams. When I got the call from Volt Staffing I was working at Pizza Hut as a dishwasher. Practically every dime I’ve made has gone straight to pay for rent and bills. You know you’re in a bad situation where the only thing you had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner has been pepperoni pizza. The only reason I took the job was because I was currently at odds with Texas Workforce Commission. I was unjustly terminated from a pervious job and been denied benefits because I was fired. I had to go through the process of appeals which would take three months to resolve, meanwhile I had no job and no money to support myself. Word to the wise, beggars cannot be choosers.

Getting the interview was an unexpected surprise. At the time, I won my TWC appeal hearing and pocketed over $2,000. I knew right away that the benefits would never last and also I was itching to quit Pizza Hut. So I thought, start a new dream: Leave Denton, set up new digs in DFW, and get a car. In order for this to happen, certain conditions have to be met, and above all else everything cannot go wrong this time. Right now, all I needed to do was iron a shirt and slacks and get up early tomorrow to the catch the Denton County Transit Authority (DCTA) Bus to Dallas. As you’re reading this, you think okay that seems easy enough. Here’s the deal: YOU ARE NOT ME! A couple of lines ago a mentioned get..a..car, remember? I do, since I’m the one who doesn’t have a car, I have to walk. Okay no big deal, it’s not that much of a distance. I lived in an apartment complex on Elm Street at University which is practically at the ass end of town, The DCTA bus to Dallas leaves Monday-Friday at 5:45am, 6:15am, and 6:35am. It’s located at the Cinemark Theater next to I-30 which is at the opposite end of town. My appointment is at 10am in Addison, if I want to be guaranteed a job for Apple Inc., my ass not only has to be there on time, but my ass also has to be there early. The distance between my apartment and the Cinemark Theater is three hours on foot. Now that distance between point a and point b would be chopped down to one hour by taking two DCTA bus transfers through town. However the DCTA town buses begin weekday operation at 6:30am. And the last DCTA bus to Dallas is at 6:35am. Now how can 27-year-old black man living in a small texas town, with no money, no friends, and no close relatives get to his destination in Addison before 10am? Let me answer that question with another question, how the hell did I know that it takes three hours to walk from my apartment to the Cinemark Theater?

The streets of Denton are dead when I made the morning trek. I think of myself being in a survival horror game or a b-movie. I loathe the part when the guy is walking home from work at night and then all of a sudden…Bam! What was that, the guy says. I think I heard it over there. The guy deviates from his path to play detective, and I’m watching all of this unfold on television, I’m rolling my eyes counter-clockwise. You’re not the hunter dude, you’re the game. I didn’t have the luxury to listen to music, I didn’t have the luxury to have my mind wander either. That’s a mistake that would be my last. Don’t take me wrong, I love living in Denton. But I don’t want to walk around the streets at night alone. There are two sides to every story, two sides to every coin, and two sides to every town. The side that people talk about is the side that everyone sees. Everyone loves the people, the community, the sense of openness and hospitality. And then there’s the other side. You would be a fool to commit a crime in Denton, with two universities, the police are always hyperactive, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone through one day without seeing a cop car. I remember a couple of years ago back in college there was this guy who tried to rob a bank on University Drive with a bomb in tow. Denton PD shut the street down. The standoff was broadcast on all four news stations. I know this because I watched them all at once. Denton PD means business when they have you on spotted on a sniper scope. In the end, the guy gave up. The bomb was a phony. He needed to money so he can have surgery for his stomach tumor. But I don’t think he was given any sympathy after the fallout, which sucks because he missed out on all of the Denton community sprit.

And if overacting cops weren’t bad enough, Then there’s the also there prevalent racial divides in the neighborhoods. Behind the Cinemark Theater there’s this upscale suburban neighborhood. Whenever I walk along this street on route to the DCTA stop the entire street is lined with street lights, the view of an attractive lake, it even has night joggers. It’s hard to not say that there is envy in these eyes of mine whenever I walk through this street. I want to live here, I should live here. If I ever wanted the wife, the kids, and the family dog, why not. But embracing the envy is embracing the sin. What people don’t realize is that Denton may be a nice town, but it’s not the only one. There are other places such as Frisco, Coppell, Southlake, Wylie, Flower Mound and The Colony. Those places are also nice place, but with one difference or rather one denominator; a complete and total void of diversity in its township. That factor alone has made it the gold standard of why moving into a small town will always be better than living in a city. If you’re ever in Denton and you wanted to know where all the blacks live, go to East Hickory Street next to the local jails. And don’t stop there if you want to get a taste of the barrios why not go to West Oak Street. It’s right around corner of College Inn at UNT. Something tells me City of Denton may have proposed some type of advertising plan to make it’s image a little more inviting (not racist) but something tells me that it’s still a work in progress.

When I finally arrive to the Cinemark, it’s 5:42am and the bus is already there. I hoof it to the parking lot at the Cinemark; already I see other cars coming into the parking lot. Don’t mind me I thought, I wanted to beat everyone at a footrace. Here I am, tired exhausted and a little sweaty in my suit and tie. The bus doors swings open and its Sam the bus driver. I know Sam and Sam knows me. We greet each other and I show Sam my expired university ID card; which is good for free bus rides, cheap movie tickets, and checking account at Wells Fargo Bank. He nods his head and I walk down the aisle and find the most comfortable seat on the bus. I lie down and take a rest. I was dog tired and out of breathe and hungry. The sun hasn’t even risen yet. I feel the bus begin it destination to Dallas and began to drift into a brief nap. The trip at this time would be 45 minutes. No traffic, no headaches, nothing. It would be a safe trip for me. I rest my eyes and I drift into… We make it to Dallas. I wake to so the weight of bus making it’s first stop. I look outside, most of the buildings are still empty. It’s decorated with assorted florescent lights displaying empty offices throughout 50 plus floors. Cool, but still. My stop would be West Transfer Center. The bus arrives to it. I and various others get off. We see a group of young people handing out copies of Quik magazine, which like Dallas Morning News Cliff Notes Edition. I say goodbye to Sam and grab a Quik paper. I didn’t want to be late and I needed to get to the express bus to Addison.

I arrive at Addison and It’s 8:02am. The bus I need to go to interview won’t arrive till 8:30am. Was I early? Well Duh! That was the whole point. When you have an opportunity like this fall on your lap, you always have to prepare for the worst case scenario. Imagine if I wanted to take the 6:35am DCTA to Dallas instead of 5:45am. Not only would I had to deal with traffic, I probably would have ended up late for my interview. My bus arrives and I hop on. I think about what I intend to do with my time after my interview is over and done with? The return DCTA bus back to Denton will pick up people at West Transfer Center after 3:15pm. Friends are off the table as always. On weekdays they have jobs, other plans, and other lives. I could see the sights of Dallas, but when you’re on a weekly budget with TWC benefits, last thing you want to do is splurge. I’ll probably go and see a movie when I’m done. I notice this large building on the street that I’ve been told to go and press the stop request button. I get off the bus and review my directions. I make my approach and I see a couple of security guards standing around. I introduce myself and they direct me to the front desk. It’s 9:10am now. I’m the first person here. I take a seat and I relax. I don’t know what to expect from this place. The area is currently going some touchups of paint and spackle. It’s strange. Not that I’m the only guy here, it’s just that I would never guess that this building would be were Apple would set up shop. I see their famous logo all the time and I don’t see any of it in this building. But I was getting ahead of myself as usual.

Slowly but surely, people just me began to trickle into the building. Each of whom all the want the exact same thing: which is to work for Steve Jobs. I looked at my competition. I guess I wasn’t the only person that Volt Staffing has talked too. Everybody is on their A game and I was bringing only a subpar B- onto the table. Everything was so tense. And not a whole lot of people were chatting, which is never a good sign. I think for some people, this may or may not be their last shot for a job. I still have unemployment benefits and Pizza Hut to fall back on. These guys on the other hand. There were plenty of seats to go around in the lobby but this one guy didn’t want to sit down, out of fear that he may break in half. I see this Caucasian woman, late 30’s who’s already checking out the want ads. Is she trying to jinx herself? I felt no sympathy to the only other black guy in the room who came in with tennis shoes, khakis short, and a bright red button-down shirt left un-tucked. All he needed was a cape and he can call himself Unemployed Man, able to piss way career opportunities in a single bound. But my most dangerous rival for Apple was an unexpected one. She slowly came into the room in appropriate business attire and took a seat. Everyone saw her and knew she was different. She was statuesque with almond skin and brown curly hair. She looked bold and it shows. It doesn’t take much a genius to know that you were in the presence of a living breathing goddess.

Just when I was about to salivate along with the rest of the animals eyeing the t-bone steak in a miniskirt, we see a group of men enter the lobby. One of these men look like there weren’t from around here and I was right. This black-haired guy was so European, complete with a gruff Austrian accent. He introduced himself as Hans Gruber, I’m sorry, Gabriel Salander. He is one of the top interviewers for the Apple Inc project and wanted to pick a group of participants randomly. Everyone was picked one after another, I was headed along with others, which included the almond goddess to the Salander team, everyone else, I could care less. Here I was along with other people picked by chance to be in the presence of Mr. Salander and company. Mr. Salander makes his speech about how the current edition of the iphone is now being purchased like gangbusters all over the world. And with new technology there are issues, damages, and faulty technology. Our job is to be the iphone users beacon of hope and serve as technical support and customer service. The project that Mr. Salander is overseeing is designed for three months and the pay is $15.00 an hour. But before anyone commits everyone has to either participate in a three week training session to order to be brought up to speed. There are two classes, an AM class that starts at 6am-3pm and a PM that begins at 4pm-Midnight. Mr. Salander made it painfully clear that if we want in on the ground floor, we had to attend Apple School.

One by one, Mr. Salander began to systematically choose one participant after another. He’d ask our name, what is our greatest asset, and also on a scale from 1 to 10, 1 being brain-damaged to 10 being a goddamn genius of how confident we are at working at a call center. It was interesting what each person’s response was; they all wanted to impress the big lug. But when asked about the scale, nobody was willing to take it up a notch. I heard 9’s, 8’s, 7’s, 9’s, and 8’s which also included an apology because yes there are expectations to this job, but there is also time to adapt. When it was my turn, here were my responses:

Mr. Salander: (Austrian Accent) Name?

J Wylie: Joseph Wylie

Mr. Salander: Greatest Asset?

J Wylie: My ability to show empathy. It’s important to see myself in the customer’s shoes. If I need help I would definitely want help from someone is more than willing to go above and beyond to help me.

Mr. Salander: On a scale from one to ten how confident are you on committing to the expectations of this position at Apple?

J Wylie: Ten.

*Everyone is silent*

Mr. Salander: Really? Ten? Why do you say that Mr. Wylie?

J Wylie: With all due respect to you and to everyone here, I would not be here talking to you today if I was not confident about putting my skills to use for this company.

And just like, the remaining applicants gave themselves 10’s on their confidence level at Apple, including Lina who’s greatest asset is product knowledge. But then again it also doesn’t hurt to look like an almond covered goddess in a business miniskirt.

When it was over, everyone walked out. Mr. Salander stated that they would contact us soon on who will be picked to participate in the project. I thought I had the offer locked, but alas I had to wait for the call again. So I sheepishly exited the building and waited thirty minutes for an incoming bus to take me to back to Dallas. The remainder of my day was spent enjoying a movie at the Angelika Theater at Mockingbird Station and then returning to West Transfer Cent to take the DCTA bus back to Denton. Getting back home was a pain in the ass of course thanks to traffic. When the bus arrived back at the Cinemark, I quickly caught to oncoming DCTA town bus and was able to come home just in time to enjoy more leftover pepperoni pizza in the fridge.

I didn’t wait too long. They called me the next day the moment I put on my Pizza Hut uniform. It was cool that I got it. Now I can start bragging to everyone at work about my walking papers. Especially that bitch prep cook. News travels fast in small spaces, I don’t have to imagine what her face will look like when she has take over dishwashing duties yet again. Though the outcome was sweet, there’s also the sour. When I stated I’d take the job, they said I had to choose between AM and PM training course. I chose the AM course. I can travel from Addison to Denton during the training weeks simply by spending the weeknights at a local hotel. But hotels are not cheep and can eat away money. But taking a PM wouldn’t be any better. I would leave the course at Midnight but nobody is willing to pick me up at the office for three straight weeks in a row, let alone spending 45 minutes driving a person home to Denton. I knew what had to be done. I gave Pizza Hut my two weeks notice and headed out into something better.

Training to use a Mac is easier than people would complain about. Every morning I’d casually walk into the classroom. Everyone looks so worn and haggard, but not me. I’d come in, grab an Apple instruction booklet, and pay attention which is what they’d expect to do or else. There was this one woman, who lasted about three days. I swear to you, dumber than a sack of hammers. Every word, every question, anything that requires the power of speech was an outright declaration to the universe that people need to spayed or neutered along with their pets. I remember one question she’d asked the teacher which caused the classroom to go silent.

“I have a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do iphone have a, um, you know. Like a special phone for blind people who can’t see? What would that look like?”

When she arrived late on day three, she was asked out of the room by an office clerk. It was for the best.

Another bonus was that I got be in the same room with Lina again. She dropped me off one afternoon from class in her Pontiac and I made her day by telling her funny jokes. I guess underneath the unapproachable exterior that an attractive person has, there’s a human there, you’d just have to bring it up from the surface. Of course, I would make the bonehead play of asking Lina out on a date. Uncharacteristic of me. She said no thanks and used the f-word with a smile on her face to put salt on the wound. I’d think I’d rather hear the other f-word than that. Usually that scenario would bum me out for the rest of the day. But then I struck up an interesting conversation with another woman during her lunch break. I had no clue that I was being watched by some key members of my training class, Lina was definitely watching. She responded to me very coolly that she’s not interested in me anymore. I replied, you had you’re chance and snickered. I opened the door for her. The rest of day was business as usual.

The three weeks came and went, we were all excited that training was over, we were getting a our first paycheck, and after this so-called “nesting” week, we were gainfully employed with Steve Jobs. It was nice to come back to my apartment again. It felt like we were so estranged but the traveling between cities suck. But it didn’t matter, because soon this empty void of a home would be filled with furniture that I put my stuff on, a bed I can sleep in, and maybe some dishware to house my hot pockets and cereal. I had some money saved over so now I can take a taxi to the DCTA at Cinemark now. The taxi guy who picks me up always worked graveyard and asks when will I buy a car? I tell him. Is my money too good for you? It’s good to share sarcasm from time to time to break any tension. Whenever I was on a call with somebody, I try to gage their personality. If a person is laid back and calm, I would fire away with humor. But realize its iphone and a certain majority of users are not the college-age slackers or townies that I’ve been so accustomed too for so long.

The first couple of days were rocky at first. You’re sitting in front of a cubicle and you wait for a call. All the while a stranger is sitting right next to you and is deciding whether or not you are worthy of Steve Jobs. I look up at them like I was an up and coming adult entertainment actress and say the magic works. “Did I get the job?” as I wipe away at my lips. And of course their response just like anything else is “If there is a problem, we will tell you sooner than later.” The one big gripe about most call center jobs is that if a call volume is low, coworkers are placed on downtime, which is lingo for sit…wait…and…speak. Between those pauses, you’re not doing anything and you’re especially not going anywhere that is not out of the office. To pass the time I would read this how-to book that I bought from Hastings’ (a low-rent Borders in certain circles) on how to use an iphone. I would read and Mr. Amos would come by and comment on my assertiveness: More about him later. Whenever I’m not reading during downtime, I go by and check on my co-worker pals, especially Lina, who apparently has perked the interest of everybody. It’s funny to see her just bat them away like pesky little pests. But I never bothered her. She was always glad to see me. I guess there is a benefit to being in the friend zone after all with an attractive girl; which is a thinly veiled saying that ignorance is bliss.

Speaking of ignorance, Mr. Amos my supervisor called me into his office at the end of the week. You know that he’s a supervisor on account of two things, one because I say that he is a supervisor and also, only a supervisor would come up to your cubicle and say mundane, bland things about your work ethic. We’ve began setting up shop at our new locales in the office where we’d work with the other vet employees. I place my grey blazer and satchel on my table and I enter into Mr. Amos’s office. Mr. Amos and another person I’ve never met are waiting for me. I take a seat. Mr. Amos leans over the table tells me that based on my performance on the job, I am no longer an employee with Apple Inc. I was surprised, since the last few days, not only was I getting positive reviews from my babysitter co-workers, I was under the impression the I was doing a decent job.

Mr. Amos then makes matters worse by trying to simplify the action, as opposed of not telling the actual reason of my immediate termination. In his own words, he says that there is this bar (imitate rising and lowering your hand) that everyone has to reach in order to maintain their jobs, and they said that I have not reached it at all. I said how, I said why nobody said that to me at all for the entire time that I endured the training period. I came to training on time. I passed every quiz and test. I studied and haven’t broken any rules. They couldn’t even look me in the eye. I watch the door open. An office clerk comes in and gives me my satchel and blazer. It’s bad enough that their attempt at being is humiliating at best, its worse when they assume that I wouldn’t be. I walked out of the building while a security guard was walking behind me. And just like that. Over.

The next day, I go straight to the staffing office and talk with the manager there. I explained to them the situation of what happened and what could be done. They said that they’ll look into it. If that was the case, what happens to me in the meanwhile? Couldn’t I just apply for another job somewhere else? I’m sure another client is looking for somebody with my skills. I might as well have placed a buyer beware sign on my face. Volt Staffing going to look out for me? Why did they even suggest that I work for a company that couldn’t even give me a proper explanation as to why I didn’t even belong? And now they were going to turn back the clock to remedy a mistake that they have no clue about. And it gets even better. I open the mail. It’s Texas Workforce Commission and their pissed that for weeks I’ve been applying for unemployment benefits while I was still employed with Pizza Hut. For the record, hotels are not cheep. I had every intention it the world to cancel my benefits but with Apple and their so called training schedule, how was I supposed to handle this situation. I had to wait two weeks before I even get a paycheck from Volt Staffing. But too little, too late: After ten minutes on hold and a verbal bashing from a TWC agent, I was looking at having to repay over eight-hundred dollars or face jail time.

The final insult was the fact that I was broke beyond broke. Rent was right around the corner and there was nothing on the table to take care of it. I could not have been in a worse situation such as this. All of my personal belongings were pawned in order to supplement the expenses used to pay for hotel fees. There was no plan. No money. I kept going up and down the streets of downtown Dallas, looking for a job, any job. It could have been at a more worse of a time. With the stock market on a freefall, houses being foreclosed, businesses being stingy on opportunities, it seemed to me that my nightmares of failure were replaced with the realities of economics. And the more desperate I became with employers looking the hire, but don’t, the angrier I became. And who was coming to my fucking rescue, TWC, Volt, Pizza Hut? No, nobody was coming to save me. And I have myself to thank for that.

The final insult wasn’t being penniless. It’s being evicted. I come home after another harsh day. The letter hidden right behind the door, pops up like a mocking Jack-in-the-box. It was only a year that I lived in that place and now that was over too. I only had a day to gather my things and get out and it starts when I come home at 8pm. It was only a couple of days ago that I bought some chicken from KFC. It was a bucket’s worth of chicken that would last me a week and now that was going into the trash. I didn’t want to go outside because it was too cold. Not that even mattered at this point. I felt like I lost. I didn’t feel angry, I felt sad, but mainly I felt like I lost. I spent the next two hours on the computer. I wanted to reach somebody, anybody who was there and available who would be able to pull me out of the brink. Facebook felt like a fool’s errand. You think the insane amount of popularity, members, and opportunities this thing has, it would have gotten you access to people who are actually your friends. But it was pathetic. The thing about Facebook is that it gives people the opportunity to reach people who want to be reached. Nobody’s responds, or rather they don’t want to. Whenever I’m logged in there’s this area on the screen called chat where you can talk to other friends who are logged in at real time. It also shows the number of friends who are logged in. Funny how the night I’m evicted, twelve friends are suddenly unavailable on chat.

I knew I had to bite the bullet and make the call, but pushing my luck was making it worse. Gina was now my only hope. She’s my only friend and the one person that I have successfully let down over and over and over again. I didn’t want to talk to her. I know that if I do. I’m one step closer to hell when I die. You know the story of the giving tree, right? That’s our friendship in a sense, but I feel like there’s only like two or three leaves that are left on those branches. I’ve hurt her, I betrayed her, I took here for granted every chance I got and yet here we are. I had a dream once that I would redeem myself in her eyes. I would come to her rescue and be that hero that saves her. But my reality of poor choices and bad timing has reduced me to being nothing more than less than valuable. I never felt so scared in my life dialing those digits, hoping that she hasn’t changed her number. I hear a dial tone, I hear her voice, and I spill my guts. I took the abuse like a champ, and I was spared one last time.

I decided that I would leave the heater on tonight, being the last night and all. It took a while for me to go to sleep. The morning was going to be pain in the ass. A lot of stuff had to be organized and sorted. I also needed to make the calls to have my utilities disconnected. I also needed to trek to the post office to have my mail set to general delivery. Since my Direct TV was cancelled I had to put down the Satellite setup down myself. Luckily I didn’t look like a complete tool without brining about too much attention outdoors. There’s a benefit of not having furniture wherever you live, easy transitioning. You put your belongings in a box, have it taped up and stacked in a corner. So when your mover arrives, everything is ready for the taking. For the most part, it was the most amount of housework I’ve done in months. When I was done, I stepped outside and I waited for Gina.

Someone did arrive and it wasn’t her. It was her boyfriend, Bill. Or should I say Gina’s Ex. We exchanged greetings and he helped take my things away one after another. When we were done, I locked the place up for the last time and never looked back. On route to the landlord’s house, Bill put his two cents in of course. On how I have been an asshole, and a leech, and every single adjective that he can name in the dictionary. I tend to tune stuff out when that happens. So ahead man, let it all out. Yep. Okay. Whatever you say boss. He might as well have been bitching to a crash test dummy. Everyone including the mailman has taken their shot at me. What’s a few more participants. It’s not like I didn’t want to defend myself, but what would be the point. You think they make an exception because you lose your job. No sir. If you every wanted to get away with saying the most horrible things to a person at their lowest always check for the perfect conditions. Willing to house the other guy’s personal belongings for free, check. Putting you in close proximity with an old flame, check. Having everything in your life seem ideal compared to the other guy, check. And an ample opportunity to mouth off without consequences, priceless.

When the verbal rape was finally over, we’d arrive at a dorm complex at UNT. Bill works there as a Hall Director, which makes him a landlord over the students that reside in the building. We placed all of my belongings inside. After it was done, we waited for Gina. I just wanted to get the hell out of this town. I was so sick of Bill. He’s running a college dorm. This guy. He’s in charge? What more do I need now? And there she is. Gina enters the building right on cue. She bypasses me and the two of them have a personal chat while I continue to twist in the wind. Gina arrives in a huff and signals me. I thank Bill and we make our exit. Now it was her turn. I was just about ready for anything. Anything at this point, but I wanted to this to be over. I started crying. It wasn’t like tears rolling down my face while I keep a straight face, but the ugly birth of sobbing and self-loathing. Gina came to my aid again and offered a sleeve from her shirt. After a long moment of silence, we started laughing.

Gina is driving me to the bus station, giving me a bus ticket to Houston to go home to my folks. I felt like I was some kind of child molester or a prostitute sharing a car with the town sheriff as we make the long ride to the middle of nowhere. But Gina’s no lawman. She’s just a girl helping a friend out of another jam. I lost how many times she’s helped me. I want to be able to turn this around, but I’ve been reduced to the final indignity, lying. I told her, I had the purest intentions of returning to Dallas and turning my life around just like that. Because I have a job already lined up but wouldn’t be ready to start for a few weeks. We agreed that if it falls through, I had to move on with my life, whether I want to or not. We went inside this strange locale. It was half bus station, half quickie mart, half fast-food joint. Gina asked if I was hungry, I told her no. It’s been a long day. I was too numb. She told me the things that I wanted to hear, just the way I wanted to hear it. My family would be glad to see me. My family would enjoy a visit from me. Think of it as a vacation. Like a fool, I ate it all up. I told Gina I would be okay, and I hand her some of my pawn ticket slips. I tell her that I would send her some money so that I still maintain my things even from four-hundred miles. She gives me a hug and I watch her leave.

I was in for a long wait. The bus wouldn’t arrive until 11:35pm and it was only 7 o’clock now. The only things I had left on me were the clothes on my back and regrets on my mind. What the hell was I going to explain to Mom and my brothers? When I left Houston back in ’99, all I wanted to do was get as far away as humanly possible, and now I just wanted to get out of Denton as quickly as possible. I haven’t paid a visit home in the past three years. She hasn’t seen her son in three years. They haven’t had a brother in three years. How is that possible? How can I answer for the cold shoulder? Was it that hard for me to buy a bus ticket and see them just for the sake of seeing them? Yes. It is that hard. It is that difficult. And now I had to face them without an explanation. The fact was that it didn’t matter if I can tell them everything that I’m telling you right now. It didn’t matter if the bus would arrive on time or arrive an hour and a half late. It didn’t matter that I can get some shut eye inside me during the trip or if I don’t sleep at. And it really doesn’t matter what state the apartment will be in when I arrive to spend what may be the tail end of my young adulthood. My mother and my brothers will expect me when I arrive, and whatever story I’ll provide for them will be the story that they’ll have to accept: A reality that unfortunately you will have accept as well. But what I really couldn’t accept was that this was going to be the WORST CHRISTMAS EVER.

Have you ever seen a one trick pony in the field so happy and free?
If you’ve ever seen a one trick pony then you’ve seen me