Page 30 of New Growth
“What about you, Hope? Why are you in Thailand?” I asked, trying to sound casual but already bracing myself for whatever witty remark she had lined up.
“I’m here on vacation. My father owns a resort on the beach,” she replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand as if that kind of luxury was normal.
Of course, he does.
“Nice. I think Es mentioned that before. How do you know, Esther?”
“We met online,” she said, leaning back like she owned the place. “We’re on a discussion board for future Black business owners. I organized a trip for some of the girls, and Hope stood out the most. We remained close.”
“You own a business?” I asked, genuinely curious despite her attitude.
“Future, Elliot,” she corrected, dragging out the word with a slow, pointed tone.
I shot her a look, tired of the passive-aggressive jabs. She smirked, clearly amused by how easily she got a reaction from me.
“Hmm, what kind of business do you plan on starting?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.
She shrugged and let out a long sigh like the question itself was exhausting. “Don’t know yet. Haven’t got any ideas.”
I scoffed, unable to help myself. “And you’re givingmea hard time?”
I expected another snarky comeback, but instead, she laughed—a short, genuine laugh that caught me off guard.
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted, shaking her head. “We both need to figure our shit out.”
Her honesty surprised me. I chuckled, unsure if this was a rare truce or a brief moment of vulnerability.
“I guess we do.”
A moment later, Esther returned with a steaming mug of tea, handing it to me with a warm smile.
“Here you go, E,” she said, sitting down beside me.
“Thanks,” I said, gripping the mug tightly.
Hope picked up her phone again, scrolling absentmindedly, but I could feel her eyes flicking back to me every now and then.
I wondered what could possibly be going through her mind as I made a mental note to keep an eye on Hope.
Awakening.
Sevenmonths.
It had been seven months since that first day in class, and the tension in my chest had loosened just a little. It wasn’t gone yet, but it was easier to breathe. The days felt a little less like a struggle, and my evenings had become something I could look forward to. Ma called here and there, and I sent updates where I could. It was mostly pictures of all the places Esther, Hope, and I have been.
We three hung out a lot together, and in all that time, Hope still hadn’t warmed up to me.
The smell of coffee and vanilla-scented candles filled Esther’s living room, mingling with the R&B music playing softly in the background from Hope’s Bluetooth Speaker. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, casting a warm glow on the sleek hardwood floors. I stood behind Esther, her thick curls framing her shoulders as she sat cross-legged on a stool in front of the mirror.
Hope sprawled on the velvet couch nearby, scrolling through her phone with the occasional judgmental glance my way. Her long legs were crossed elegantly, and she had that look of boredom on her face.
“Okay, explain to me exactly what you’re doing,” Esther asked, twisting slightly to peer at me.
I gently guided her chin back forward. “Patience, girl. Trust the process.”
Hope snorted from the couch. “That sounds suspiciously like what people say right before they fuck up your hair.”
I shot her a glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hope.”
