so we were forced to walk back to the library.
This was fine with me. For one I needed the few blocks to let this all sink in. I had a job, one I was certain could not be more perfect. I now had a place to call mine. One that did not involve a kidney or any killing on my part. Soon I would be settled in to a brand new life.
As we walked past the lively neighborhood, full of diners and pubs and shops, I could barely contain my excitement. If something was going to ruin it, take this feeling of freedom and exhilaration away from me, it was going to do so with one hell of a fight from me. I wanted something for myself, wanted to be selfish for once in my god damned life. I no longer had to live for my family, for Tucker or anyone else. That life was over.
After a busy day of learning the routine with Sara, in between discussions about the new place, I was exhausted. I loved it though. Loved doing something that felt like me. Baking sweets, which had been my mother’s love and never mine, was exhausting in different way. An empty to-the-bones fatigue.
This exhaustion was from talking about books and life and aspirations. With people who knew nothing of my tragedies and didn’t have to pretend to care. It was fulfilling in a way nothing I had gotten to experience ever had been.
When I shoved into the hotel room that would be home just awhile longer, I was happy. Excited that the dingy four walls and tiny bathroom were no longer all I had to look forward to. Thrilled someone like Sara had found their way into my life. I loved to listen to her talk about the city and the library and her hopes for the kids who frequented it. Her heavy Irish brogue was melodic and warm.
Today she explained the after school programs she had championed that were finally finding purchase with some kids. Computer labs with courses on everything from creating resumes to detailed financial spreadsheets were offered, as well as language courses and even painting and creative writing classes.
“Now our focus is this mentoring program,” Sara was explaining a few days into my first week at Washington. “A chance for a few very different trades to talk with the kids, get them on the right path towards building something for themselves. We have a few mentors lined up, it all starts next week. Is it something you would be interested in overseeing?” Right away I knew I would absolutely be excited to be in charge of it.
“Why...why me? It sounds like you have the project well in hand, I don’t know if my coming in now could be of...” Sara leveled a look at me over sushi; she had insisted I try it and that was my new mantra. Try new things.
“Nonsense, pet. I have plenty to keep my plate full, which is precisely why I needed you. I have a few mentors ready to go for the next month or so, and I can explain the basics of the program. It’s so early in to it. I think it would be a great project for you to get under. Make your mark at Washington.” Dipping her Uni into a pool of soy, she pointed her chop sticks at me then took a bite.
“Sara,” For some reason as I picked at my own plate of sushi, wishing it were maybe battered and fried, my eyes flooded with tears, “this might sound insane or ungrateful. Why do you have such blind faith in me? I barely had the guts to try sushi because it’s like nothing else I would have done before.” I swiped my fingertips over my eyes hastily; I was a lot of things, but weak or pathetic had never been on that list.
“Oh pet. I joked with Deacon about feelings, remember? When you reached out to me for the position at Washington, like he said, I did research. Like I always do. Before you told me, I knew about your family, about your...about Tucker. Not the details of course, just what was on paper. The very first email you sent me, after the application process had begun, I had already begun interviews.” She smiled warmly at me, her hand reaching to stop mine from fussing with my sushi, “Then I read
This was fine with me. For one I needed the few blocks to let this all sink in. I had a job, one I was certain could not be more perfect. I now had a place to call mine. One that did not involve a kidney or any killing on my part. Soon I would be settled in to a brand new life.
As we walked past the lively neighborhood, full of diners and pubs and shops, I could barely contain my excitement. If something was going to ruin it, take this feeling of freedom and exhilaration away from me, it was going to do so with one hell of a fight from me. I wanted something for myself, wanted to be selfish for once in my god damned life. I no longer had to live for my family, for Tucker or anyone else. That life was over.
After a busy day of learning the routine with Sara, in between discussions about the new place, I was exhausted. I loved it though. Loved doing something that felt like me. Baking sweets, which had been my mother’s love and never mine, was exhausting in different way. An empty to-the-bones fatigue.
This exhaustion was from talking about books and life and aspirations. With people who knew nothing of my tragedies and didn’t have to pretend to care. It was fulfilling in a way nothing I had gotten to experience ever had been.
When I shoved into the hotel room that would be home just awhile longer, I was happy. Excited that the dingy four walls and tiny bathroom were no longer all I had to look forward to. Thrilled someone like Sara had found their way into my life. I loved to listen to her talk about the city and the library and her hopes for the kids who frequented it. Her heavy Irish brogue was melodic and warm.
Today she explained the after school programs she had championed that were finally finding purchase with some kids. Computer labs with courses on everything from creating resumes to detailed financial spreadsheets were offered, as well as language courses and even painting and creative writing classes.
“Now our focus is this mentoring program,” Sara was explaining a few days into my first week at Washington. “A chance for a few very different trades to talk with the kids, get them on the right path towards building something for themselves. We have a few mentors lined up, it all starts next week. Is it something you would be interested in overseeing?” Right away I knew I would absolutely be excited to be in charge of it.
“Why...why me? It sounds like you have the project well in hand, I don’t know if my coming in now could be of...” Sara leveled a look at me over sushi; she had insisted I try it and that was my new mantra. Try new things.
“Nonsense, pet. I have plenty to keep my plate full, which is precisely why I needed you. I have a few mentors ready to go for the next month or so, and I can explain the basics of the program. It’s so early in to it. I think it would be a great project for you to get under. Make your mark at Washington.” Dipping her Uni into a pool of soy, she pointed her chop sticks at me then took a bite.
“Sara,” For some reason as I picked at my own plate of sushi, wishing it were maybe battered and fried, my eyes flooded with tears, “this might sound insane or ungrateful. Why do you have such blind faith in me? I barely had the guts to try sushi because it’s like nothing else I would have done before.” I swiped my fingertips over my eyes hastily; I was a lot of things, but weak or pathetic had never been on that list.
“Oh pet. I joked with Deacon about feelings, remember? When you reached out to me for the position at Washington, like he said, I did research. Like I always do. Before you told me, I knew about your family, about your...about Tucker. Not the details of course, just what was on paper. The very first email you sent me, after the application process had begun, I had already begun interviews.” She smiled warmly at me, her hand reaching to stop mine from fussing with my sushi, “Then I read
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