May 25

Ipark my car in one of the few spots left open and step out into the packed parking lot even though it’s barely noon. A couple of teens sit on the curb outside, while a set of small boys run ahead to the building in front of a woman calling after them. I should’ve expected how busy it would be during this long Memorial Day weekend, but I’ve had my head down, working on the tournament.

Briefly, I wonder if I should come back later, maybe on a different day, but I shake my head.

No.

There are only a few weeks left, and I need sponsors. Mr. Alvarado’s help has been sparse, even though this whole thing was his idea. I’ve kept him in the loop, telling him everything I’ve been doing, waiting for him to offer up suggestions on contacts or companies. He’s given me neither, although he was the first one to sign up a team. So I guess that’s something.

With so much stress, I haven’t been sleeping well, and I can only hope after all this is over, I’ll be able to sleep for fifteen hours straight. But to even put this memorial on, I need money, so I take a deep breath, double-check my folder, and smooth out my sleeveless black romper.

Sunny’s Sundaes is a small business owned by a woman who went to my high school and graduated a few years ahead of Raymond. For my first go at obtaining a sponsor, I thought this might be my best chance. A painted pink, blue, purple, and yellow sign decorates a wide window next to the door. Inside, I’m greeted with cool air conditioning and the distinctive scent of sugar waffles. I haven’t eaten dairy ice cream in a long while, but the pistachio almond fudge is awfully tempting.

As I rummage through my purse for lactose pills, a young man behind the counter greets me. “Can I help you?”

I skip the stomachache and tell him, “I’m here to meet with Sunita. My name’s Cassandra. She’s expecting me.”

“Okay, one minute.” He walks a few steps to a door that looks like it leads to some sort of kitchen and leans inside. A moment later, a woman with light brown skin and black hair tied up in a messy bun appears, stripping off rubber gloves that look like they’re smeared with chocolate. She smiles at me.

“Sunita?”

“Yes, hi. Call me Sunny,” she says then directs her thumb over her shoulder. “I was dipping some of the waffle cones.”

“Oh, you make everything yourself?” I ask as she scoots around the counter and gestures to a small booth in the corner.

“Everything but the little sugar cones. We always have at least twelve homemade ice cream flavors to pick from. The waffle cones and bowls, the cookies, we make everything here. I like to dip the cones myself,” she says with a laugh. “When I let the staff or my husband do it, they all end up with different amounts of chocolate.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t help that I’m a micromanager. Avyaan and I opened this place two years ago. I’m the creative, he’s the business.”

“Well, everything looks delicious.”

“Is this your first time here?”

I nod, embarrassed to be here asking this business owner for money when I’ve never frequented her shop. “I’ve got a bit of a lactose sensitivity, so I mostly stay away from ice cream.”

“I have two vegan flavors right now. Do you want to try one? Toasted coconut or dark chocolate peanut butter?”

I squeeze my thumb and forefinger together. “I guess I’ll have a smidge of the toasted coconut.”

She hops up and goes back behind the counter. In the meantime, I take out the sponsorship packet, which includes an outline of the event, why I am doing it, and the different levels of sponsorship. I keep from nervously chewing my lip, but my palms are moist. I’ve never asked anyone for money before, not in this sense, at least, and even though I’ve mentally rehearsed the spiel, it’s still nerve-racking.

My hand itches to text Vince. I almost asked him to come with me today, but I stopped myself before I sent the message. I agreed to put this fundraiser together, and I need to take these meetings on my own. If not because it’s for my brother, then to prove to myself I can do it. Vince’s been my crutch through everything, but I want to stand on my own two feet for once. I don’t want to need him as much as I do. Plus, I’m not comfortable with how we left things at his house. We’ve texted a few times about the tournament but nothing too personal. Nothing more than a friend helping out another, a guarantee for a sponsorship from the Mancini Funeral Home.

“Here ya go,” Sunny says, handing me a small cup and spoon as she sits down opposite me again.

“Thank you for this and for meeting with me.”

She inclines forward, one hand on top of the other on the table. “Of course. I’m happy to help. I didn’t know your brother personally, but I can sort of understand what you’re going through. My cousin died when she was thirty-two from complications of childbirth.”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, the spoon of ice cream paused halfway to my mouth.

She frowns, nodding solemnly. “It’s amazing that happens in this country, you know? My family came here for opportunity, a better life, right? And then something so preventable happens… It’s kind of unfathomable. We were all devastated.”

“I’m sorry,” I say even though I’ve come to the conclusion that is the dumbest thing to say to someone mourning. There is nothing I can do for her. There has been no wrongdoing, except maybe death coming too early for this woman and a messed-up healthcare system. “That’s awful.”

She brushes stray hairs back from her face and takes a deep breath. “So, what do you have for me?”

I hand her the papers and, in between bites of ice cream, explain to her what I’m doing for the tournament and that I need funds for rentals and permits. In exchange for donations, Sunny’s Sundaes would receive advertising on all social media platforms, in event emails, signage, and on our T-shirts. She listens intently and smiles encouragingly. I take it as a good sign that we pull out our phones to follow each other, but she doesn’t give me an answer now.

“Let me go over all of this with Av, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Great. Thank you again.”

“Good luck with all of this. It’s really cool you’re doing it,” she says as we shake hands. She’s so bubbly and friendly, I wonder if I put myself out there more, maybe we’d be friends. When I lived in New York, one of the biggest cities in the world, I didn’t go out often. My work schedule as personal assistant didn’t allow it, but if I’m honest, I didn’t try all that hard. I had a handful of friends yet never made an attempt to meet new people, and now I think it’s possible I’ve lost the ability to make friends. Perhaps that skill fades away if not used enough.

Though, this meeting is a turned corner. Proof I’m not totally inept at people-ing.

Later, at work, I sneak away to check my emails and find one from Sunny. She’s in.