Space Program

Space Program

A Rob C. Johnson Short Story

Today was the type of day where you’d often wonder how things would turn out. Today was a day filled with people lined up outside the new place they’d just finished under construction. It was well-fenced off. It was one with the fences topped off with outward hooks, making it hard to infiltrate. The attraction must’ve been huge, which would’ve been the only reason to enjoy these trash-ridden streets of downtown. The trash was my responsibility for having “sticky-fingers”. My supervisor hovered over us like vultures to dying corpses. He stopped and snapped me out of my trance; my moment of clarity of the Space Program, reduced to dashed hopes.

“Carlisa? Hey, your mask should be on. And you don’t get paid to watch your phone,” my supervisor said.

I rolled my eyes and listened to him reluctantly. The only person that called me “Carlisa” was her. The only memory of her was the gold, heart locket dangling from my neck; the only memory I had left of the woman that gave me birth. An exasperated sigh escaped my mouth, and I could tell that bothered him because he returned a sigh of his own.

“Look, I know what you’re going through, Lisa, okay? You’re not a criminal, no matter what the docket reads,” he said.

I shook my head with a scoff. Sure he’d say that, it’s what they’re paid to say. What I did, and how I was painted by the public, I was tired of it, to be honest. I worked dismissively to spite him. I continued picking up trash with a grabber, placing it into a trash bag. The sun wasn’t pleasant that summer, and I knew for a fact people would walk over me. The rich were the big fish, while the little fish were buried in the sand at the bottom of the ocean.

Once my shift was done, I walked to the bus stop and before I got on, I was stopped by a car pulling up. Aiden was inside. I called my stop early, pressing on the yellow strip-like tape. It didn’t fail to sign the driver. I exited the bus, hoping never to have to rely on it again. For those inhabiting transportation, their destination was back to their mundane lives. I stepped inside the mall and felt the contrast between the summer outdoors and air conditioning. The cold air rubbed against my legs since I wore black denim short shorts and sandals. The cool breeze compared to the still, hot outdoors was refreshing. I placed the black and gold embroidered mask over my mouth and nose, obeying the sign saying to do so plastered on the glass double doors, even though not everyone listened.

Ah, the power of free will, I thought to myself. The mall was my sanctuary. One of my favorite stores was an expensive clothing shop. They had an expensive pair of shoes I drooled over. I found myself rubbing the heart-shaped, gold necklace dangling around my neck and over my chest. Through the glass, I could spot them on display. They had jewelry on display. I could see my reflection through the display glass: A young, black girl wearing glasses with frizzy, brown hair stared down at the accessories. The prices attached to them reminded my pockets of their limits. I had to fix my mask and glasses so the lenses wouldn’t fog up, but it was too late. I had to go through the tedium of removing my mask and wiping them off on my plaid black and yellow button-up and placing them back on. I heard two girls giggling beside me. They were chattering amongst themselves. Immediately, I thought they were talking about me, but completely dismissed it when I caught further conversation. Both girls were holding white plastic bags donning the jewelry store’s logo proudly.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to seem like we were talking about you,” The blonde said.

I turned my attention to them, realizing who they were talking to.

“Those are highly expensive. The price tag should read, ‘for deep pockets only’.” The bubbly blonde said to me.

That brought my attention to her. What she said made me laugh.

“Yeah, uh. They seem nice, I’m just browsing,” I said nervously.

“I think we did more than just ‘browse’.” Her friend said.

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” The blonde asked.

I sighed. My cynical thoughts had taken over.

“Well, if you’ve seen my face in the Cracked newspaper, then you’d know me infamously.”

Her friend disagreed with my suggestion.

“No no. That's not it. Did you know Mr. Mead’s class?” The blonde asked.

“Yeah, he was my Science and Math class teacher. What year did you graduate? 2010?” I asked.

“Yep, sure did,” She pointed at me, “Carlisa was your name?”

“Guilty as charged,” I said, “And you’re Margot and Shannon, right?”

“You got it,” her friend, Shannon, confirmed with the point of her finger.

“Wow, that was so long ago, but feels like yesterday,” I said.

“Yeah, a full decade is a long time in human years, but you seem to be doing okay,” Margot said.

I thanked her. Shannon reached out and felt the gold heart-locket draped over my neck. She looked down at the necklace, rubbing it on its smooth surface.

“Oh, so did you hear about the Space Program?”

“Yeah. I’ve been constantly wondering about it,” I said.

That’s when she flashed her ticket. I never saw one up close, because having one came with a heavy price tag. They had enough money to shop expensively and buy tickets for the Space Program? I had my assumptions that she was some rich girl, but I had no idea. I was going to ask how she got one, but I had a feeling she’d tell me. She showed it to me.

“You ain’t watched the news lately?” Shannon asked.

“Too depressing,” I answered, shaking my head.

“Well, good. I don’t watch it, either,” Shannon said.

I already knew what I wanted to do. Even speaking with them influenced my decision more. I knew I wanted to go.

***

There was nothing for me here.

That much was obvious. I made it back home after giving my goodbyes to both girls. I was tempted to revert to my old ways when it came to the expensive jewelry, believing if I could get away with it, I would. It was as if my mother spoke through her heart-shaped locket, and I answered by rubbing it again. Once I made it home, switched out my clothes, showered, and got comfortable, I flopped down on my couch and flipped on the TV. It spoke to me about the news. Something about the government trying to evacuate those from Earth due to fear of the population dropping at a rapid pace. Keeping my eyes open, after a while, was akin to lifting heavy bags with my eyelids. I succumbed to sleep. And immediately, I was awakened by the sound of my dad, Sire Smith. He was clean-cut, wore glasses, and wore a long-sleeved, blue polo shirt with blue denim jeans, and black tennis shoes. He made noise, walking through the kitchen and stopping by the doorway leading into the living room. He was stopped by the TV.

“Do you watch anything other than the news?” He asked.

I ignored him and stood to my feet.

“Well, I get the silent treatment. You didn’t jack nobody else did you?”

I looked back at him, rolling my eyes.

“You treating me like those white folks out there?” I asked him.

“Lisa, no I’m not. All I’m saying is that you need to turn your life around, otherwise you can forget it about this Space Program dream.”

“It not just ‘some dream’ Dad. I need this. We need this,” I pleaded with him.

He shook his head wistfully.

“I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. They’re making those tickets next to impossible to afford.”

I immediately thought about Margot and Shannon.

“So I heard. What about people that can’t afford them? What happens to them?”

My dad shrugged.

“My guess is they’re S.O.L.”

As if he were a magician, he produced a pair of tickets. I looked at them, then at him. It hit me swiftly, catching me off guard like a slap to the face. My face was stunned, I searched my mind for the words, which were scrambled like a word puzzle.

“Wait, how did you…?”

“Won them. It was a contest at a call-in show. I didn’t expect to be the hundredth caller, but these tickets prove otherwise.” He said, shaking them before me.

I tried to snatch them from him, but he was quicker.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when you first walked in the door?”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” he said.

“So does this mean you’re down for getting out of here?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I promised your mother we would, and unfortunately…” he trailed off into deep thought, then snapped back into reality.

I smiled.

“We can leave tonight if you want.”

He nodded in agreement at my suggestion.

***

That night, we left the house. We packed some provisions and some extra sets of clothes. Mostly just took what we needed before heading out. We loaded up in my Dad’s car, which had seen better days, but it still got us from point “A” to “B”. After stuffing the trunk, we decided to take off into the night. I leaned my head near my open window, feeling the summer breeze caress my face, rummaging its fingers through my hair.

“Got your seatbelt on?”

My gaze moved to the driver’s seat.

“Yeah.”

He noticed the locket dangling from my neck. His eyes moved back to the road.

“You’re still wearing that thing? I forgot all about that,” he said, “You must miss her.”

“Something like that,” I said.

“Look, Lisa, I know you miss her. You’re not the only one, so if there’s anything you wanna talk about…”

“She’s dead, okay? There’s not much to talk about.”

I was an idiot. Just because I was grown physically meant nothing mentally. We had to park a little further away from the Space Program since the parking lot was full. While we were getting our belongings from the car, I heard a noise from an alley behind us. I didn’t see anything other than hearing the rustling of some trashcans.

“Hey Lisa, come on. We gotta get going,” He said.

I wonder how we would be received. The Space Program wasn’t designed for the indigent. And it showed. How? The noise coming from behind the trashcans in the alley revealed itself. It was in the form of a man with a gun. He stuck us up. Another one followed beside him. I imagined the initial plan was to rob us. He forcefully invaded my Dad’s pockets. I was crying the entire time, shaking, thinking how could this happen.

“Please don’t…”

“Yo, shut her the hell up,” One of the muggers growled through alcohol on their breath and gritted teeth.

One of them yanked out the ticket, and his eyes soon lit up as if he were a miner that struck gold. He grinned.

“Hey! Don’t talk about my daughter like that! And give me that back!” My Dad screamed.

He reached for the ticket and fought with our mugger. A combination of screams and cries came from me.

“Dad, don’t…! Stop it!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The gunshot echoed through the streets, bouncing off the concrete walls and the streets riddled with potholes. The two men ran off with my Dad’s wallet. I fell to my knees beside his body, the heart-shaped locket glistened in the moonlight, dangling from my chest. His last dying request to me, however, the ticket sat tightly in his hand before it went lifeless.