7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
K endra
I sat at my small kitchen table, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee, as I stared at the online application form for a spot at ABS Broadcasting Station on my laptop screen. A cold sweat trickled down my neck as I read the final section: “Tell us a little about yourself in 200 words or less.”
My pulse quickened, while my heart pounded in my chest, and a cold sweat trickled down my neck. I couldn’t tell if it was the summer heat or the weight of my own nerves gnawing at me, but the pressure was mounting up.
Taking a deep breath, I let my thoughts flow onto the page. My fingers hovered before I began typing, "As a passionate and driven individual with a knack for storytelling, I’m excited to apply for the position at ABS..."
My heart was in every word I typed, and I allowed myself to hope—hope that maybe this was my fresh start. Finally, I concluded with, "...I'm thrilled at the prospect of joining the ABS family and contributing to the rich history of storytelling in this city. Thank you for considering my application."
I read over my response, making sure it fit the 200-word limit. With a mixture of apprehension and excitement, I clicked “Submit” and watched the application disappear into cyberspace, feeling a little lighter.
My first instinct was to call Tina, video call, actually. I tapped on my phone, and her face filled the screen after the first ring.
“Hey, girl! I’m done!” I could barely contain the excitement bubbling in my voice.
Tina squealed in delight. “Yaaas, Kendra! You got this! I’m sending all my positive vibes your way.”
I smiled. Tina and I had only known each other for a few days, but our connection felt so natural, like we had been friends for years. Her infectious energy always seemed to ease my nerves .
I crossed my fingers and whispered, "Please, God, let me get this job." I whispered, hoping the heavens would hear my plea.
Tina chuckled on the other end, her voice playful but sincere. "Oh I do more than that! I’ll light a candle, say a prayer, and even do a little dance to make sure you get it."
I laughed, the tension I had earlier ebbing away. "You're the best, Tina. Thank you."
We talked for a few more minutes. Tina shared tips on ABS's office politics—names of people to avoid, others to keep close. I took mental notes, my mind already painting a picture of what life could be like there.
“I gotta run, though,” she said suddenly. “Production manager’s here, and trust me, he’s allergic to idle tech. Talk later?”
“Talk later,” I echoed, laughing. It felt good, this shared camaraderie with someone who understood my world.
Just as I ended the call, my phone buzzed again. A text from Lily, my ex-boss. My smile faltered as I opened the text.
" You can resume work tomorrow afternoon. But there’ll be a paycheck cut for what happened. - Lily."
I stared at the screen, disbelief mingling with surprise. Why was Lily suddenly asking me back? Curiosity tickled the back of my mind, but I decided not to push it.
The reason didn’t matter—I needed this. My heart leaped at the thought of having something to fill the time while I waited to hear from ABS.
“ Noted. Thanks, ma’am ,” I texted back, a grin tugging at my lips.
Getting my job back, even with a cut in pay, was a small relief. It was something solid I could hold on to, a distraction from the relentless anxiety that threatened to consume me, while I awaited news from ABS.
I stood and stretched, feeling the stiffness leave my body. Groceries — I had almost forgotten, my kitchen cupboards were looking a little bare.
Especially if I was going to bake something soon- my usual go-to for soothing nerves. Also if I landed the ABS gig, who knew how busy I’d get? I grabbed my purse and headed out for the local store.
The store was just a short walk, about twenty minutes. I decided to walk, using the time to familiarize myself with the neighborhood. Each step seemed to ground me, offering a brief moment of peace.
Once inside the store, I was greeted by the familiar sight of rows of things that competed for my attention. I grabbed a cart and began weaving through the aisles, letting my mind wander.
I picked out some fresh fruits and vegetables, the essentials—milk, bread—before my eyes drifted toward the baking aisle. I suddenly craved homemade chocolate chip cookies.
I added a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, walnuts, and sea salt to my cart, smiling as I envisioned the warm, gooey treats.that would soon fill my kitchen with the sweet aromas.
Baking was my sanctuary—a place where I could forget everything else and lose myself in the rhythm of measuring, mixing and creating .
I was actually quite good at it, if I did say so myself, but the thought of commercializing my passion was never going to be an option. I was far too laid-back for that. Besides, baking was my way of showing love and care to those around me, and I cherished the quiet moments spent in the kitchen, whipping up a storm for my loved ones.
But as I reached for a bottle of pure vanilla extract, my fingers froze.
Elon’s favorite flavor –my late husband.
The memories hit me before I could stop them—Elon’s blissful expression whenever he ate my chocolate chip cookies, the way his eyes would close, savoring every bite.
My throat tightened, and I blinked back the sting of tears. I wasn’t going to break down in the middle of a grocery store. Not today. I forced myself to take slow, measured breaths, shaking off the memories.
With the rest of my ingredients gathered, I continued through the store, moving on autopilot, trying to keep myself grounded in the present. Yet Elon lingered in the back of my mind, a ghost I couldn’t shake off.
But I pushed forward . Focusing on the simple tasks at hand. As I made my way through the store, the familiar rhythms of shopping helped calm my thoughts, and I found myself lost in the mundane, yet comforting, task of choosing between two similar brands.
Before long, my cart was full, and I made my way to the checkout. As the cashier scanned my items, we exchanged friendly banter. When it was time to pay, I confidently handed over my card.
My fingers tapped away on the counter, waiting for the cashier to hand me back my card, but to my surprise, the machine beeped ominously, and the cashier's expression turned apologetic.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Your card has been declined."
Declined - I repeated in disbelief.
A knot of embarrassment twisted in my stomach. I checked my balance on my phone—there was more than enough to cover it.
"Can you try again?" I asked, hoping it was just a technical glitch..
But the same result came up. The cashier gave me an apologetic look, and I felt my face flush with heat. I rifled through my purse for cash, but I already knew the truth—there wasn’t enough.
This can’t be happening .
Just as I was about to abandon my cart in shame, a voice from behind startled me.
"Need some help?"
I turned to see Antonio standing there, his usual scowl replaced by something softer—a smile. My heart sank; could this situation get any worse? Of all people, why him - the one person who always seemed ready to jump at me, and bring out the worst in me.
But, as I looked into his eyes, I noticed something unexpected - My pulse quickened, not from embarrassment, but from something else entirely. A warmth in his gaze, a softness in his voice that left me momentarily stunned.
"Do you need help?" he asked again, his tone gentle, as he looked between me and the cashier who was getting impatient.
My pride screamed to say no, but reality held me hostage. I hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of him.
"I… I can handle it," I muttered, though I had no idea how.
Antonio chuckled softly. "It’s no trouble. I’ve got it. How much?"
$53.50 . The words barely escaped my lips.
He nodded, turning to the cashier, an easy smile on his face. “Hey, Penelope, could you add her bill to mine.”
I felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned in to hand me my bags, his voice a low murmur. " Take your bags ."
The simple gesture sent an unexpected jolt through me. My heart fluttered , and I struggled to keep my composure. I hated how his proximity affected me, how my body remembered the attraction I had buried long ago.
Our eyes met briefly, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something—a spark, a glimpse of something more—but just as quickly, it was gone, leaving me wondering if I'd imagined it.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, quickly gathering my things, trying to create some distance between us. Antonio’s hand brushed against mine as he helped me with the bags, sending another jolt of electricity through my body. I quickly pulled my hand away, trying to downplay the contact. “I’ve got it,” I said, my tone a little too sharp.
I couldn’t afford to let myself feel anything .
Not for him. Not now.