Page 79 of When a Soul Cries

Eventually, enough time passed that I started believing he wasn’t coming.

That didn’t mean I trusted the situation.

It just meant I was tired of letting fear keep me frozen.

So I learned.

At first, investing sounded like rich-people language.

Stocks.

Bonds.

Funds.

Markets.

Numbers going up and down for reasons nobody seemed capable of explaining in regular-ass English.

But I had time, and I had money I wasn’t trying to lose.

So I started teaching myself.

I read everything I could get my hands on. Watched videos. Took notes. Started small instead of throwing everything into something I didn’t understand.

Some investments worked.

Some didn’t.

I lost enough one time to sit in front of my laptop staring at the screen like I could intimidate the money into coming back.

But I kept learning.

I got smarter.

More patient.

Stopped moving off excitement and started paying attention.

Then I hit.

Big.

The first time one of my investments really took off, I refreshed the screen so many times I thought the website had to be broken.

It wasn’t.

Then another investment moved.

Then another.

And suddenly the girl who used to calculate whether she had enough gas to make it through Friday had money sitting in places Sol didn’t even know existed.

I still didn’t tell her.

I didn’t tell anybody.

Not because I knew Sol was struggling.