I started selling lemonade outside the cinema in the evenings to pay for the exam fees. It was hot, and my feet ached, but the coins in my pocket felt heavy and real.
One night, a black Buick pulled up to the curb. Julian stepped out. He was wearing a suit that cost more than a car.
The neighbors on the street stopped talking.
He walked over to my stand. He looked at the ice chest, then at my faded cotton dress. He placed a stack of bills on the counter. "For the money you gave me."
"I don't want your interest, Julian," I said. I slid the extra bills back across the wet wood, keeping just a twenty.
He looked at me. The impatience I was so used to seeing in his eyes was gone.
"Sterling told me about the exams," he said.
"I'm taking them," I said, wiping down the counter with a rag.
"Flora," he started. He reached across the counter toward my hand.
I picked up the ice tongs and stepped back. "You should go, Julian. You're blocking the line."
I watched him walk back to his car. Ten years ago, I would have died for him to reach for my hand like that. Now, I just checked to see if I had enough ice for the next hour.