THATCHER AND SAWYER AND THE DREAM

[Mahlena wrote this short story. Share it with a friend. 🙆🏾]

“Which was your favorite sample?”

“‘Under Pressure’ in ‘Ice Ice Baby’.”

July 2010


At a round table inside the Cupcake Party bake shop, Thatcher shook her head at Sawyer’s response. “The cake.” She set down her brown paper shopping bag and pointed at this plate, which contained the remnants of his minuscule treats.

“The Sticky Wicket was tasty but gooey. The Rainbow Lite Brite with the angel food cake was light. I liked this fruity one the best.”

“The Raspberry Lemon Drop,” Thatcher informed. “I got a regular sized one in my box. That’s what she said.”

Sawyer licked the last of the whipped cream of his fork, his eyes on Thatcher. “I’m sure she did. Are you saving yours for later?”

“I’ll have one after dinner.”

“Great! Where are we going?”

Thatcher grinned, in spite of herself. “First, ‘we’? Second, it’s barely four o’clock.”

“Too soon for happy hour, but right on time for the early bird special. So unless you’re a cost-sensitive alcoholic, we could chow down with some retirees.”

“What kind of alcoholic are you?”

“The kind that likes my jumbo strip cocktail for half price. I live my life one piece of discount seafood at a time. Nothing could go wrong there.”

“You’re funny,” Thatcher observed. “Hot guys aren’t usually funny. They think they’re clever, but that is rarely the case.”

“All I heard you say was that you think I’m hot.”

“Are you a heavy drinker?”

“I’m not really an addict. Maybe to pizza. I could eat roti every day.”

“Caribbean restaurants are few and far between in LA.”

“I’ve noticed.” Sawyer cleared his place and sat back down with Thatcher. “Do you miss home?”

“Sometimes. The food, yes. The hurricanes, no. My family, yes, The catcalling, no. People of different colors interacting with each other, if only by circumstance, yes.”

“This city does appear more segregated than I expected, considering how many countries are represented in Southern California. At least, that’s what I see here in Westwood, and around my place in Santa Monica,” Sawyer shrugged.

“There are a few areas in Los Angeles County that resemble a harmonious American melting pot. My business partner is obsessed with one of them. She wants to buy an office building there.”

“What’s it called?”

Thatcher scrolled through text messages on her phone to find the name. “Hennessey Park. It’s near Pasadena. A couple months ago, Dobie—my business partner—took me and Finn—my other business partner—to lunch in downtown Hennessey Park at an Italian-Chinese fusion restaurant, which had really good food that did not give me heartburn. Then we walked around and looked at commercial real estate. Dobie looked. Finn and I dry-heaved at the asking prices.”

“You’re not a big spender?”

“I don’t own billions in liquid assets like Dobie does. Nor do I own a corporation on the Fortune 500. Dobie’s our company’s angel investor. With her help, Finn and I look like we know what we’re doing.”

“What would you and Finn like to do?”

“Take over the world. Through casual video games for women. That’s our goal. We’re moving product and making money, so something’s going right. What do you want to do?”

“Keep talking to you,” Sawyer stated. “If you want to keep talking to me?”

“I will, if you tell me what your biggest dream is.”

Sawyer’s mouth gaped open. “That’s a hard question.”

“I’m not easy. I’m a handful.”

“Can you tell me yours first?”

“I don’t want you to make up an idea that you think I want to hear.”

“I won’t. I swear.” Sawyer held up his three fingers. “Scout’s honor. Beside, I don’t think my dreams could be as big as yours.”

Thatcher acquiesced. “Business-wise, I want to take Strawberry Jam Hands to a $1 billion valuation in 10 years. That’s our gaming company. Then Finn and I would sell and exit. That’s our plan.”

“You’ll do it. And outside of work?”

“I want to design a house with a dance studio and have it built on a spacious lot.”

“Would you live in that house alone?”

“My husband and children would live there with me. Of course, I need to meet them all at some point.”

“How many children?”

“Your dream, please.” Thatcher rested her chin on her palm. 

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor. So I majored in Biology at Penn Ivy and applied to medical school and got in and never went. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but seven more years of higher education did not appeal to me. I had extensive knowledge of the human body, so I went into the fitness industry.”

Thatcher scanned him up and down, fixated on the muscles on top of his muscles. “I’m shocked. Trainer? Model?”

Sawyer retuned her stare. “I work in Strategic Development. More analyzing spreadsheets than pumping iron. I like my job, but I want to find out who I am outside the office. I want to travel to new places, meet new people. I want to fall in love with my best friend, my soulmate, start a family. I turn 30 next year, so I should get on that.”

“So do I. I’ll be 30, too. 30 also. Next year. What do you want in a soulmate?”

“Someone kind and caring,” Sawyer said, studying Thatcher. “She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to get it. She accepts me for who I am, although I’m not completely sure who that is yet. She likes sleeping in on Sundays, so I can cook her breakfast in bed.”

“That’s specific.”

“You?”

“Me?”

“How would you describe yours?”

“I’m not convinced soulmates exist. How is there only one person for every other person? What if you never meet them because you can’t find them?”

“Have you looked?”

“I have. But no one’s looking for me. No one who is sane or around my age or not creepy. I’m too much.”

“Too much?”

Thatcher slumped in her chair. “Too chubby, too brown, too opinionated.”

“For the right person, you are more than enough.”

She sat up. “I do have a deal breaker. Two. Probably more. No bigots, and no smoking. And no casual drug use.”

“Committed drug users only. How many children?”

“Between two and four.”

Sawyer counted on his fingers. “So, three?”

“Yes, mathlete. And I’m adopting at least one. What are you smiling about?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He clasped his hands together. “Thatcher, if you lived and worked in Hennessey Park, would that fit in with your big dream?”

“Yes, why?” She watched Sawyer typing on his phone.

“Is this where Dobie took you to lunch?” He showed her the screen.

“Valeria Wu’s. I had a spinach salad and meatball wontons.”

“I want to take you there. I want to see your dream.” He stood up from his chair.

“Now?”

He jingled his keys. “I’ll drive.”

Bags on her arm, Thatcher allowed him to help her up. “We’ll both drive. In separate cars.”

“You don’t trust my navigational abilities?”

“I met you two hours ago. You’re worried that I’ll laugh at you. I’m worried that you will murder me.”

“I like your laugh. More laughs, please.”

“What were you going to tell me later?” Thatcher asked as they strolled through the doorway to the sidewalk.

“Oh, wow,” Sawyer chuckled to himself, avoiding the other pedestrians. He gathered his words. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, so I wanted to wait.”

“Until you disposed of the bodies?”

“I tried a cigarette once before university, and I hated it. I can dance, but I haven’t since I was in school. My brother is adopted, and he and my sister are my best friends.” He showed her a photo of the three of them on his phone. “I can’t marry them. I do want to adopt a child, though. My last girlfriend only wanted biological children. That’s not why we broke up, but it did make me question whether I could find a partner who would be open to both options. What’s wrong?” Sawyer reacted to Thatcher’s scowl.

She stopped on the pavement. “You’re perfect. Even your flaws are impeccable. Like that scar on your ear. You probably got it from saving a baby from a puppy party.”

That’s where you’re wrong.” He stood with her. “I tripped on a fountain at a Take Back the Night march.”

“I cannot even!” she shouted at his face. “Now I’m terrified for a completely different reason.”

Sawyer slowly reached for her hand. He waited for her fingers to latch onto his. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Without letting go, Thatcher resumed leading them to their destination. “We’ll see.”

FIN

[What's your Big Dream?
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