"Earning Independence"

We are in Meeka’s room. Well, Meeka is in the room. I’m technically in her massive closet, ogling her cashmere sweaters and silk skirts.



“Will you come here already and sit down?”


“Meeka, why do you want to work anyway? You have everything,” I say before reluctantly fondling a pair of leather pumps goodbye. It is painful to walk away, but somehow, I manage.


“I want something of my own.”


“Those are your own.” I gesture to her walk in closet.


“I didn’t earn them. They were given to me. I never got to pick what I want. Everything in there was chosen for me by mother. I want something in there because I put it there. You follow?”


“Yeah, I do.” Meeka and I weren’t very different: we both wanted a piece of something that was only ours, something that we earned that couldn’t be taken away by our controlling mothers.


I imagine the lights flickering in our apartment and Sam crying that she didn’t have enough money to pay the electric bill.


“Oh Amelia, what will I do?” Sam would ask, her lower lip nicely quivering.


I’d put a steady hand on my mothers taut shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I’d open my expensive leather purse and pull out several crisp twenties.


She’d cry even harder of course, unbearably grateful to me. She’d see me in a new light, and finally realize I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was now independent and couldn’t be told what to do anymore.


I could practically taste my freedom.


Meeka’s nay-saying snapped me out of my fantasy.


“But where are we going to get jobs then? Don’t you need to be a certain age to work in a store?”


“Nah, you just need to look old enough,” I say. The truth is, I hadn’t considered the age thing but was already too thrilled with my fantasy to consider any potential obstacles.


Meeka and I walk over to the floor length mirror on the doors of her closet. I stick out my chest and Meeka squares her shoulders.


“We definitely look old enough,” she says to our reflections.


“Definitely,” I say and stand tall, my hands planted firmly on my hips.


“Where do you think we should apply? Gap? American Eagle?” she asks.


Unless Benjy was willing to chauffer me to the Sayview Mall and back—free of charge, too—department store work was out of the question. And it was a given that Meeka and I wanted to work in the same place.


“There’s a Quick-n-Save across the street from Meadowview. There’s always plenty of kids working behind the counter. Besides, how old does a person need to be to serve a slushy?” I ask and find myself irresistibly drawn into her closet again.


Meeka follows me into the closet. She holds out one of her long hands to me. “Quick-n-Save, it is.”


When I shake her hand, our deal somehow feels final. We stare at each other, our eyes glowing with our new decision. A second later, we begin to jump up and down like crazy, thrilled by the adrenaline of our upcoming independence.