«Us. A group of us. Networking, Grace. It’s important for my career.»
I went home alone and put on my diner uniform. That night I served coffee and burgers to people who tipped poorly, and I thought about Brandon at some expensive restaurant with Veronica Ashford, talking about things I couldn’t understand.
Three weeks later, Brandon got the job at Metropolitan Elite Hospital. His starting salary was $200,000 a year. When he told me, I cried with relief.
Finally, I could quit at least one job. Maybe two. Maybe I could go back to school and finish my degree.
But Brandon had different plans. He came home one evening with brochures for luxury apartments.
«We need to move,» he said, spreading them across our scratched kitchen table. «This place isn’t appropriate for someone in my position. My colleagues all live in the River District, that’s where we should be.»
I looked at the brochures. The rent on the cheapest apartment was $4,000 a month, more than I made in three months at all my jobs combined.
«Brandon, that’s so expensive. Maybe we could find something nice but more affordable? Then I could quit working and go back to school.»