Finding Home

Nola

The silence was loud, ear-piercing, some would say. Sitting on that operating table, I could only think one thing... "I need my mom; I need to go back home." But let me start at the beginning.

Dreux Magnolia Johnson is the name assigned to me on June 14th, 1998. At age 21, I moved to Chicago to escape the life I left behind in Dripping Springs, Texas. It has been four years here in the bustling city of Chicago, and life has been exactly how I wanted it to be until it wasn't. Before I moved here, I connected with Mr. Lawerence Goldberg, owner of Goldberg's Fashion Gold, one of the most prominent fashion companies among the elites and celebrities. His company styles its clients for various events, such as concerts, galas, award shows, fashion shows, etc. The connection started at my job at a local coffee shop called Cottage Coffee House when one of the company's styling assistants walked in.

Day in and day out, I felt like I wasted my life away in this quaint coffee shop. Don't get me wrong, I love my regulars and the free treats, but I want more out of life. I hate being here and everyone knowing everything about you. After the incident, I tried to stay out of the way, but it is nearly impossible when you live in a town where news spreads faster than butter on a hot pancake. The stares and whispers these past couple of weeks have been unbearable, and I wish I could just run away and-

"Lost in thought?" A soft voice impeded the rambling voice in my head. I looked up to see this gorgeous girl. She was tall with skin like bronze. Smooth and golden. She wore a form-fitting black Versace dress that slightly hung off the shoulder, emphasizing her long, glistening legs. Her head was full of voluminous, chestnut brown spirals that framed her face perfectly. She was stylish and beautiful, and she knew it.

"More like lost in your beauty," I said once I finally snapped out of admiring her.

"I could say the same thing. What is a beautiful girl like you doing working in this tired-ass town?" My face got hot at her words—something about being called beautiful by a beautiful woman that makes me feel untouchable.

"Well, for one, I live here and have to make a living somehow. Are you ordering something?"

"May I have a small vanilla cappuccino... one cream, two sugars?"

"Coming right up. By the way. I love your Versace dress. You cannot be from around here wearing that. Where are you from?"

"How do you know I am not from here? Do you know there are some wealthy parts in this town?

"Oh, I know, I have been here for 21 years. Born and raised. Nobody around here can afford a Versace classic from the 1995 Spring collection." I handed Ms. Versace her drink and began wiping down the equipment I used. "As for the wealthy parts of town, that is on the other side of Dripping Springs, The Valley we like to call it, and the rich come to their vacation homes in the summer to get away from their busy lives to relax.

"You have a great eye. Are you into fashion?"

"I love the fashion scene. I do not want to be a fashion designer or anything like that, but I would love to be immersed in it. Like in the background of it all, observing the Met Galas, New York Fashion Week, and Paris Fashion Week. I want to be around it all. Then I wake up because that will never happen." I chuckled as I said that last part more to myself.

"What if I tell you that I can make that happen?"

"I would say you're lying."

"Do you like it here?"

"No, I want to get as far away from here as I possibly can. I need a fresh start." The past month instantly flowed into my mind, filling me with regret and causing me to sigh as tears fell from my eyes. Ms. Versace used her iced-out pointer finger and lifted my head, locking eyes with me. We just stared at each other for a moment before she wiped my tears and broke the silence.

"Perfect, come with me to Chicago. I leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? That's so soon. Where would I live, work, what would I do?"

"Look pretty barista, I am giving you a chance to get your fresh start. Are you trying to be stuck at this dead-end job in this dead-ass town for another 21 years, or do you want to explore the world? Let me know. Meet me here tomorrow at 10 am if you're ready to start your new life. It's your choice." She reached into her Versace La Medusa small handbag and pulled out her business card. "10 am. Call me." She winked at me and vanished from my quaint coffee shop. I looked down at the card, which read Indya Martinez -Professional Stylist of Goldberg's Fashion Gold. At that point, I knew I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Chicago seemed far from home and big enough to provide me with many opportunities, never to have to return.

"You are not going, and that's final, Dreux." My mom yelled as we had a heated argument in the kitchen of our countryside home.

"But mom! It is one of the biggest fashion companies in the world, and they want me to work with them. This opportunity could be huge for me."

"After all that has happened this month, you think you are responsible enough to go to that big city alone?"

"Maybe it is just what I need after basically being cast out of society. You think that it is fair for me to live this way?"

"You are not the only one affected by it. I got kicked out of my Ladies Club because of your stupid actions. And here I am, thinking you were getting better. What are you going to do? Where are you going to live? How would you protect yourself? I bet you didn't think of any of this. You're just a naive little girl with big dreams. Get it through your head; this is as far as you will ever go, so stop wasting your breath; you're not going anywhere."

"I am 21; you cannot stop me from going. I have the answers to my problems right at my fingertips and will grab them. Just because you got stuck in this town because you got knocked up at 18 by some man who didn't want anything to do with you doesn't mean I have to suffer as well. It would be best to take a long look in the mirror to see what stupid looks like. You thought a 34-year-old man would love and care for his 18-year-old baby mama when he had a wife and three kids at home? Clearly, I got my decision-making from you. I am going to Chicago, and THAT'S final." My mom's eyes filled with tears as she brushed past me and walked to her room. Before I knew it, I packed all my essentials, leaving everything else behind.

"If you leave, don't EVER come back," my mom screamed behind me as I walked out the door, but it was too late; I already made up my mind. I met Indya in front of Cottage Coffee House.

"I knew you would make the right choice, Pretty Barista." Indya grabbed my hand and led me to a black Cadillac Escalade. "You never told me your name," Indya said as we raced down the streets one last time. Leaving Texas meant that I was leaving behind the life that I once lived. Without thought, I said,

"Nola. My name is Nola Johnson."

In shedding my hometown life, I began to go by Nola to embark on a new journey.