The Passed Note Issue 5 October 2017 | Page 37

Katie Krantz

I Tried

Money to cover an application fee was a laughable concept.

“Sure, son, if you really want to,” she said, disbelief dripping from every syllable. Her swollen feet, holding miles walked, were up on the table. Wine swished. Her wedding ring fused to her finger clinked against glass with every rotation.

“I do. I liked the pamphlet. I think my grades are good enough,” I responded, excitement filling my stomach, inflating my tiny balloon soul. The balloon sat there, small and hopeful, after friends dared to conspire over the sticky lunch table. We whispered the most dangerous words ever spoken in Nowhere, Texas. What if you tried? The flaming bullet tore my brain to pieces. I pushed my hand through my hair to stop it, forgetting that I had recently buzzed it to cool down fieldwork for harvest season.

Mom snorted again, and took another sip of wine.

“That’s great, honey.” The TV flickered. Housewives cried from the stress of luxury. Skyscrapers stretched across another planet’s skyline. The smell of asparagus bloomed through the kitchen. It didn’t hit my nose. The scent was already stuck in my nostrils from last week, filling them with the end of the harvest. I turned my attention to chopping. My fingers fell into a familiar dance as my thoughts sprinted beyond the countertop. They ran past even rows of asparagus, of other crops slowly ripening in the fields. They hurdled the broken fence and screamed for the skyscrapers, for a tomorrow filled with ideas instead of dirt. Dinner ended, but dreams didn’t. What if you tried?