All characters are 18 or older. This story was written in collaboration with Diana R. The story starts a little slow as it builds the story, but it gets there. This story features a relationship between an adulterous older white female (53 yo) and a young black man (18 yo). If that doesn't appeal to you, then please save yourself the aggravation. If it does appeal to you, we hope you enjoy.
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"Diana, I need your help," Marie pleaded on the phone. "We worked together for over 30 years. Look, you know I wouldn't call you if there was another way. I know you're retired, but you've got connections with some of our wealthy and most generous alumni. Your husband works with some of them. You've got extra pull I just don't have. Please, can't you just make some calls?"
I was skeptical, but Marie was a good friend, and she wouldn't reach out to me unless it was a dire situation. We had worked together for decades as guidance counselors at the community college, although I retired about a year ago. I'm still only 53, but my husband makes a good living, and we could afford for me to retire, although my husband still works. For him, the work sustains and fuels him. For me, the prospect of working until I couldn't enjoy my retirement just wasn't appealing, so I quit about a year ago and have enjoyed pursuing all the interests and hobbies I never had time for previously.
"Okay, explain it to me again," I said, trying to be patient.
"His name's Dion Gooden. He's an African American kid from Douglass High School on the southeast side of town. Lived there his whole life, and you know how rough it is down there. He's 18, just graduated high school this spring. Dion's a real hard luck case. His dad is in prison, and his mom is a bad addict. He's been in and out of foster homes the past 5 years, but he's aged out of that system, so now he's on his own. He wants to take classes and get an associate's, but he needs some help."
"Can't he just take out student loans or get a Pell grant?" I pointed out.
"He could, but he's working two minimum wage jobs just to afford a car and a place to stay. You know how crazy rent has gone the past few years, and he's got some debts he needs to pay back -- "
"So, he doesn't know how to manage his money, and he wants to be bailed out," I countered.
"I don't think it's like that. He's racked up some medical bills, and he ran into the wrong car. The car damage was his fault, but his insurance didn't cover the full cost on the other side, so he's stuck with the extra costs. He took on a second part time job in his senior year, and his grades suffered, and there's no way he can keep on top of college classes while working 70 hours of manual labor a week. But I've met him, and I really think he just needs a break. He's a good kid, but he's shy. You've got a way with coming through for some of these kids. Do you think you can help him? Just talk to him, and you'll see what I mean."
I sighed loudly on the phone. "Can you lay the guilt trip on any thicker?" I asked.
Marie knew I couldn't pass a hard luck case without helping. It's part of the reason I became a guidance counselor in the first place. I always loved helping people, and watching kids go from lost to finding a purpose in their lives was always incredibly rewarding. If it wasn't for the administrative bureaucracy, I might even still be working, but the incessant red tape became frustrating and made the job damn near impossible at times.
"I can set up a meeting," Marie offered. "After you meet him, I'm sure you'll want to help."
"So, he's in a catch-22," I said, processing all the information Marie had given. "Take out the loans, and he doesn't have time for class anyway, and he'll probably flunk out and be on the hook, for the loans. If he stops working, he can get loans and take classes, but he can't afford a place to stay. What exactly is it that you think I can do?"
"I don't know. Just work your magic," Marie said brightly.
"My magic. Yeah, just let me grab my witch's broomstick and book of spells," I joked.
"I don't know. You always seem to figure something out. I'm sure you will here, too."
I sighed one last time as I wondered what I was getting myself into.
*****
A week later, I walked into a café to meet Dion. Marie had provided his contact info, and, after a few phone calls and texts, he agreed to meet on Tuesday afternoon at a café close to campus. As I stepped through the door, I saw a young black man, about 5'11" and 175 pounds waiting nervously at a table. He was the only black person in the café, and his eyes studied me, seemingly trying to figure out if I might be his appointment.
"Hi, I'm Diana," I said with a warm smile as I extended my hand.
"Uh, I'm Dion. It's nice to meet you," he answered. He shook my hand, but his voice was soft and lacked any confidence or conviction.
I took a seat with him at a small round table, and we ordered some coffees. He had dark features and looked strong and clean cut. His curly hair was cut short by a razor, and he looked freshly shaved. He dressed in nice slacks and a polo shirt. I couldn't discern if this was his normal attire, or if he dressed especially for this occasion.
"So, Marie tells me you want to go to college," I began.
"Yes, ma'am. I'd like that. I like criminal justice. I'd like to get a degree so I can work in that field."
"Why criminal justice?" I asked, trying to gauge how serious was his pursuit.
"Well, I think it's interesting. And where I come from, sometimes life is tough. A lot of gangs, a lot of drugs, and I seen a lot of my friends end up on the wrong end of a gun or knife when they didn't do nothing wrong. I want to do my part to try to clean up those streets and make it a safe place to live."
His voice gained confidence as he spoke. It was clear he'd given a lot of thought to his aspirations and that those goals filled him with purpose.
"So, what do you need to do to make that happen?" I followed up.
"That's what I don't understand. The college costs ain't a big deal. I know I can get a Pell grant. That's the easy part, but short of free room and board, I don't see how. These two jobs I'm working got me running around like crazy all week. I ain't got no time to take classes. I'll do the work; I ain't afraid of that. But rent ain't cheap, you know. I need my car to get to work and to class. I ran into someone a year ago, messed up some rich dude's ride. My insurance only covered part of the damage. I'm still on the hook for the rest, so I'm paying through the nose on car insurance and still paying that dude off. And I got sickle cell, so I'm in the hospital about once a year, and now I'm paying that note, too. It's just bills, bills, bills. This whole adulting thing ain't no joke."
Marie was right. This kid had some tough breaks and a huge hole to climb out of. Nothing is impossible, but most people have a short period in their lives after high school to try to get set on their feet. The whole key to life is to have a skill set. Whether you get a degree, a certification, or make/ sell something, you have to have a special skill or talent to get ahead in life. If you don't get set on a good path in young adulthood, it can be hard to recover as marriage and kids come into the picture. Some people do make something of their lives, but many don't because it's a thousand times harder, and Dion seemed to have the deck stacked against him through little fault of his own.
