Hot Chocolate and Red Licorice

Sometimes, Adelaide liked to imagine she was a balloon, accidentally let loose, just drifting wherever the breeze takes her, unbothered by where she will eventually land.

This is part of the ongoing series Happiness Nationwide. Start reading here:

Chapter Three - Hot Chocolate and Red Licorice

Sometimes, Adelaide liked to imagine she was a balloon, accidentally let loose, just drifting wherever the breeze takes her, unbothered by where she will eventually land. On this day in particular, when she stopped at the nearest Happiness Nationwide intake kiosk, she imagined she was a yellow balloon covered with orange swirls like the sun.

There was a sign on the kiosk that said, “Pick up phone for intake.”

Her hand shook in anticipation as she lifted the receiver.

“Hello?” a calm voice answered on the other side.

“Hi, um…” she paused, catching her breath.

“Are you okay?” the voice asked.

“Yes, sorry. I ran here,” she began to explain. “No … wait,” she paused, pushing past a lump in her throat. “I’m not … okay. I’m not happy,” she admitted out loud for the first time.

“I understand,” the warm and patient voice responded. “Do you have the intake questionnaire, or do you need one?”

“I have it,” Adelaide said, unfolding the wind-wrinkled paper with one hand.

“Good! There is a slot beneath the receiver. You can slide it in there. We will quickly scan it and begin the intake process,” the voice instructed.

“What if …” Adelaide hesitated, looking in the general direction of her neighborhood. “What if I change my mind?”

“Not to worry. You can return home at any point if you wish.”

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief as she submitted her application to the scanner.

“All right, Adelaide, a transport will come to take you to our testing center as soon as possible. In the meantime, please enjoy a treat on us,” the kind voice said.

Four silver coins clinked into a metal dish below the receiver. She cupped them in her free hand and squinted to read what they said: “Fun Tokens”

“Adelaide,” the lingering, faint voice said on the other line.

Oh, she hadn’t hung up yet.

“Yes?” she asked nervously.

“This is it.” The voice of doubt began. “This is the part where they say that you can’t go, that you don’t actually need help.”

“I hope you have a better day.”

“Thanks.”

Tears welled from the stranger’s kindness as she hung up the phone.

Feeling like she was awkwardly loitering on the streetside, she crossed the wide sidewalk and waited under the portico. Colorful lights wrapped around the columns. Calming classical music played from a mounted stereo. Cushioned benches surrounded a vending food station.

The warmth of excitement stirred in her stomach as she looked at the digital screen for all of the options.

• Main dishes: pasta, hamburgers, fried rice, greek salad, sushi, pizza.
• Candy!: Licorice, fudge, caramel filled chocolates, squishy bears, suckers.
• Drinks: water, green tea, hot chocolate, soda, sports drink.

There were so many options, healthy and probably unhealthy to choose from. As hunger rumbled in her stomach, she realized she hadn’t eaten lunch that day. And she didn’t know how long it would take to get to the testing center, or exactly what tests they were going to do there. Eating something now would probably be the best. But there were so many options.

What she really wanted, like really really wanted, something her mother would never pack her for lunch, was a slice of pepperoni pizza, some licorice, and a warm cup of hot chocolate. She thought of her teeth, and the grease, and the sugar high. And at least this once, she decided not to feel guilty for it.

She rolled three tokens into the slot below the order screen, and her food appeared from behind an automatic sliding door a minute later. Adelaide did a little food dance as she ate and nodded her head to the beat of the surrounding music. Just as she was finished with her baggie of licorice and sipping on the perfectly warm hot chocolate, a limousine pulled to the streetside and stopped.

Adelaide wondered if there was a celebrity event happening nearby, and she craned her neck in excitement. The driver walked around the front, opened the side passenger door and turned, staring at her.

“One ride for an Adelaide Shaw,” the driver said.

“Me?” she asked, the rose of embarrassment marking her cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a friendly nod.

Adelaide jumped up in unconcealed excitement and ducked into the stretched vehicle. There was another girl in the back already. She scooted over with a nervous grin, waited until Adelaide settled into her seat, and then stretched out her arm so enthusiastically, she almost smacked her on the knee.

“I’m Brenna Campbell, lovely to meet you,” she said. “I’m going to Happiness Nationwide,” she added before Adelaide had a chance to even introduce herself.

Funny, Adie thought. She seemed so joyful already. Brenna reminded her of Ms. Calle.

“We’ll be there in just eight more minutes,” the driver informed them.

As the limo started again, an intense feeling of dread burned through her gut. Or maybe it was just the pizza? No, she knew this feeling. It was the weight of the biggest decision she had ever made for herself suddenly falling onto her shoulders. She could watch their journey through town on the mounted GPS screen beside her seat. The closer they got to the testing center, the heavier she felt.

Brenna stirred the whole time, buzzing like a bee, ready, just so ready to talk to Adelaide again about something, anything! But Adelaide suddenly wasn’t interested in talking, or eating candy, or entertaining this new journey she foolishly rushed into.

When the limo stopped in front of the testing center, she wasn’t hopeful for joy anymore. The only thing she felt in that very moment was that she had betrayed her parents, the perfect life they tried so diligently to build for her.

“We’re here,” the driver announced.

Brenna reached desperately for the door, but Adelaide did not move. She wondered if her parents were home yet. Were they terrified by her absence? Or perhaps, there was still time to ask the driver to take her back? Adelaide looked down into her lap, tears pattering on her skirt, trying to hide her face behind her bangs so Brenna wouldn’t see her.

“Hey,” Brenna said as the driver waited by the passenger door. “I may not look it, but I’m scared too,” Brenna whispered.

She reached for Adelaide’s hand, fingers trembling like a bee, a lovely little bee. Adelaide looked up and smiled at her, a big sunrise smile like Ms. Calle.

“Let’s go in?” Brenna asked, craning her head to the door.

Adelaide nodded, squeezing her new friend’s hand.

The Happiness Nationwide testing center looked like something a five-year-old version of her imagined in a dream. Rainbows and hearts and butterflies were painted on a mural in the lobby. Statues of race cars and rabbits surrounded the front desk where the driver helped them get checked in.

In the waiting room, Brenna laughed when she flopped down onto a giant bean bag and sank into the cushion like a cloud, almost disappearing. Adelaide giggled as she swayed gently on the hammock swing that was mounted to a ceiling beam. There were others in the waiting room. Some read, others played games on handheld devices, a few were clustered in the corner around a flatscreen television watching a movie.

There were colorful signs everywhere, gentle reminders. Her favorite was, “Please be kind, courteous, and careful while you wait; Others are also trying to find their happy place.”

She and Brenna flipped through fashion magazines for about fifteen minutes until Adelaide was called back by a tall woman in a powder pink wrap dress holding a clipboard that looked like a turtle. Adelaide looked nervously at Brenna when she stood.

And her kind, new friend gave her a big thumbs-up and whispered, “You’ve totally got this.”

“You too,” Adie whispered back.

When she turned away, she could only slightly catch the mask of happiness peeling off Brenna’s face. Oh. Some people were masters at hiding their unhappiness. She wondered how long Brenna had known.

Her tongue and lips were tingling when she followed the woman to the testing room and sat in the plastic chair that looked like an octopus. She tried to imagine what her parents would look like sitting there.

“My name is Petunia,” the woman said as she turned and opened the cabinet. “I’m going to give you a quick rundown of how our testing will work. Does that sound okay?” she asked, retrieving a yellow helmet-like contraption.

Adelaide nodded.

“Our testing process is very quick and simple. The goggles on this cool little hat will show you images, nothing flashing or too bright, I promise. There are headphones that will play some sounds. There’s also a microphone for questions that require audible answers. And this part—” she paused, turning the inside of the helmet so Adelaide could see the sensors that looked like stars in the dark sky, “these are going to record all the data we’ll need to figure out how to help you,” she said.

“Wow …” Adelaide sighed. “That’s … a lot.”

“It can seem like a lot, but it’s actually pretty fun. I’ve done it a few times myself,” she said with a reminiscent grin. “So, what do you think, would you want to try now, or do you want to wait a bit until you’re ready?” Petunia asked in a no rush kind of tone.

“Will it … hurt?”

“Oh, no, dear! Never,” Petunia assured her.

She thought of Ms. Calle’s sunrise smile and Brenna’s enthusiastic thumbs-up and took a deep breath.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Adie decided.

The testing program was like a movie. It showed her pictures and videos like kids playing tag, animals in the wild, the ocean. It played classical music, folk, rock. It asked her some word association questions like what was the first thing she thought of when she heard the words, “peace”, “sadness,” “achievement”, “family”, and some funny words like, “gobbledygook” and “lollygag”. It asked her about her likes and dislikes, favorite foods, what season she enjoyed the most.

In the final part of the test, there was a black screen, no music, and the last question: Can you envision what happiness looks like for you?

With each question before, her brain felt like it was vibrating excitedly, trying to answer as truthfully as possible. But when she got to the final question, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was like all the excitement from before vanished, time stopped, and she felt like a ghost again. She was screaming inside, “Look at me, I’m trying!” but it wasn’t from thrill anymore. It was fear, frustration, anger. Why couldn’t she imagine her future of happiness?

“Adelaide, the test is over, and I’m going to remove the helmet, okay?” Petunia asked, placing her hand gently on Adie’s shoulder as if she was afraid of scaring her.

Adelaide nodded. In the dim light of the testing room, warm tears streamed down her neck and pooled between her clavicles.

“You failed,” the voice of doubt goaded. “You didn’t pass the test, and now they’re not going to help you.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed.

“What is it?” Petunia asked in a calm but suddenly concerned way.

“I didn’t know how to answer the last question. Did I fail?” she worried.

“Oh, dear. No, there is no failing at Happiness Nationwide,” Petunia assured her.

The tall woman sat beside Adelaide in the rolling chair that looked like a giraffe.

“Would you like to talk about how we can help you?” Petunia offered.

“Sure,” Adelaide said with a hesitant nod.

“Our testing computer, that cool little hat, I mean, took thousands of recordings in the few minutes you were testing. Based on all of those impressions, we can introduce you into a program that will help you, Adelaide, find happiness. Is that something you are interested in?” Petunia asked.

“What kind of program?” Adelaide questioned.

“It seems that our Summer’s Creek Camp program for people transitioning from middle school into high school would be the best fit for you. Would you like to know more about that program?”

Adelaide nodded. She couldn’t find the words. It was like her voice was stolen by doubt again. This time, she tried to swallow the aftertaste of guilt that came with it. A camp program probably meant that she wouldn’t be going home that day. Why did she want to go home? Was it because she missed home or because she didn’t want to face her parents’ disappointment?

“Here are some pictures of the camp,” Petunia said, pointing a remote to the wall across them.

A slideshow projection started, and Adelaide was absolutely enchanted by what she saw. Forests, streams, log cabins, campfires, warmth. Kids ran, laughed, and danced. They played games and stayed up late telling stories and ate smores and didn’t worry about studying.

“It looks really fun,” Adelaide said, guarded excitement rising in her chest. “But …”

Petunia didn’t say a word, didn’t ask Adelaide to finish or hurry. She just waited with that soft, patient gaze.

“I’m just so scared of disappointing my parents. I don’t even know how to tell them what’s going on or if I even have the words to tell them what’s going on. I don’t want them to think I’m helpless. But I also don’t like the feeling of them needing to help me. It’s like burning eyes, peering down on me in a nightmare. I know they love me, really, I do. But it just doesn’t … feel like it. Just the thought of their judgment makes it feel like I’m not real, not really here, like I don’t really know what my life is,” she explained, nostrils flared as she tried to catch her breath.

“I understand,” Petunia responded swiftly, not forcing her to drown in awkward silence. “We can actually help you with this. If you would like, we can call your parents and tell them a little about what’s going on. Then, you can have a chance to speak with them yourself, say whatever you need to say, and tell them goodbye before you go to your program,” Petunia paused as she turned off the slideshow. “What do you think?”

~

“I think I need this,” Adelaide divulged to the speaker of the elephant’s trunk telephone.

So many questions lingered in the silence across the line. Would her parents understand her, or would they be disappointed? Would they blame themselves for her own unhappiness? All the possible answers, most pessimistic, swarmed in her stomach, which was filled with hot chocolate and red licorice. A nauseous, gut-wrenching sickness threatened. It was like a stranger had taken over her body, somehow belonging and somehow not, teetering on the precipice of completely starting over.

And she was so scared, but she was ready.

“Adie, we just want what is best for you,” her father said on the other line.

“Is this what you want?” her mother asked.

In a long silence, she realized that she didn’t know exactly what she wanted. But she thought of what Ms. Calle said: “Everything is worth giving a try,”

“I want to try,” she finally answered.

They spoke for only a few more seamless minutes about how she was doing, did she eat lunch, did she want them to bring anything for her before she left? She explained that Happiness Nationwide would have everything she needs.

Back in the waiting room, Brenna was sulking in the hammock chair, picking at the side of her nail. When she saw Adelaide, she jumped up, the mask of happiness crawling back over her face.

“What program?” she asked in a hushed voice, like a fun little secret.

“Summer’s Creek,” Adelaide told her.

For the very first time, she saw Brenna smile, like a true sunrise smile.

“Roomies?” she asked, flashing Adelaide her own pamphlet for Summer’s Creek.

And for the first time in a very long time, Adelaide wasn’t worried.

***

Hello, wanderer!

I hope you found this if you need it.

xoxo,

for now,

-your friend, lost in thought