I nod. “I think they’d be cute.”
Gloria snickers. “Candy char-cute-erie.”
I smile as Emma writes that down, too.
“If you did it, that’d make it easier for customers,” I go on. “You could also take custom orders. And because your store has candy from all over the world, you could put together special boxes. Like a Tray of Togetherness for Lunar New Year with lucky sweets, chocolate coins, dried fruits, nuts.”
“Yes! My family always has those. How did I not think of that?” Emma says.
“All the numbers from this”—Gloria places her hand on the laptop in its stand—“told you that?” she says, pointing to my screen.
“The numbers have stories to tell if you listen,” I say.
“Well, isn’t that romantic?” Gloria says. “But how do you know if they’re saying something bad or good?”
“It’s less about them being bad or good and more that I figure out how to interpret them,” I say.
“How do these interpretations turn out?” Emma asks.
“Yeah,” Gloria says. “Once you figure something out with the numbers, did you make your company millions of dollars?”
“There were times I saved them millions of dollars, yes. My forecasts weren’t always accurate, though. Sometimes I’d have misleading results when I didn’t have enough data to paint a full picture. Orthere would be extreme data points that skewed my readings…” I trail off.
I play back my words. Readings. Forecasts. Interpretations.
You’re like a data fortune teller, Logan had said.
I decipher data just like the fortune tellers have decoded our cards, tea leaves, palms. We both take numbers and fortunes and find the stories in them.
Sometimes, though, the stories had plot twists. Past data isn’t a perfect predictor of the future. Though it sometimes does, history doesn’t always repeat itself.
Which means I also know that just like with data, there is no insight without interpretation. Action still needs to be taken. Choices must be made. The steps Logan and I took were based on how we deciphered our fortunes.
Logan bought the lottery ticket. We drove, not flew. I said yes to an unexpected manager interview.
Gloria shrugs. “Close enough.”
“This is amazing, but it’s above and beyond,” Emma says. “Don’t feel like you have to do extra work. Seriously. You’re valuable as you are, and this job is yours for as long as you need.”
“How’s the job search been going?” Gloria asks, leaning against the counter.
“It’s been going well. Weirdly well,” I say, realizing I haven’t thought to update them.
“Weird?” Gloria asks. “What’s weird?”
“The interviews?” Emma asks.
“I mean in general,” I say, touched by their concern. “Things don’t go so smoothly for me. Or better than expected. I was offered a manager role.”
The news came in this morning. Gloria and Emma are the first I’ve told in person.
“That’s incredible!” Emma says as Gloria shouts, “Whoopee!” and swings her arms into the air. I must be making a face because her arms flop down by her side. “Darling, does this not make you happy?”
“No. I mean, yes? It’s great,” I say. Because it is. It’s a lot more money, which is exactly what I need. I’m moving up. Getting a more impressive title. I could pay for the house. Isn’t that what I’ve worked for? Isn’t that the dream?
But I’ve had a lot of dreams, haven’t I? I’ve dreamed of a normal life. Of a father who I didn’t have to worry about stealing from me instead of giving me birthday money. Of an older brother who protected me instead of hurting me. Of a lake house with a happy family inside instead of people who care more about themselves than each other.
Not all dreams come true.
