realize, it’s Monday. The day of my interview at the gallery.
My phone rings again. “Where are you?”
“Rebecca?”
“We have plans, Cal.”
“We do?”
“Hello? What’s going on? I’ve been away a week but you’ve forgotten our reunion?”
Now I remember. Rebecca and I planned a ridiculously early reunion breakfast because she starts work at eight today. “Sorry. I, um, went out last night. I could be there in ten minutes?”
“Where’d you go?”
“To … BEneath.”
“What? Without me? Callie!”
“I’m know. God, and I got drunk and—”
“Okay, can I have my friend back now? Whoever this is, get off Callie’s phone.” She’s trying to make a joke of it but her voice is tense.
“You’re mad at me.”
“No. Who’d you go with?”
“Ivy.”
“What? Ivy’s back?”
“Um, yeah.”
There’s silence. We’re both thinking it. She says, “Are you seriously doing this again?”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then?”
“You were away.”
“Oh my God, Callie. Forget breakfast.”
“I’m already walking toward your house.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Don’t be mad. I can explain.”
“What? I don’t even want to hear it. Call me when you get over your girl-crush.”
I say, “That’s not what this is about.”
“No?”
“Give me a break, Rebecca. I just went out to a bar with an old friend. You’re being insane.”
“Am I?” She pauses. “Maybe I am. I just … I figured … I thought we’d go to BEneath together the first time. Is that dumb?”
“No …” It’s my turn to backtrack. “It’s me who’s sorry. I really am. I didn’t even think.”
She sucks in a breath. “That’s what bothers me. You didn’t even think.”
“Can I just come over?”
“I’m not really in the mood now. I’ve got to get to work anyway.”
“But how was your trip? How’s your dad?”
“I’ll call you later, okay? I’m not mad.”
“You are.”
“Okay. But I’ll get over it. I’ll call you later.”
I sigh. I guess I should just go for the interview. My clothes are okay: normal, clean. I check my face in the mirror in my phone and use a little of the makeup Ivy gave me to make myself look less tired. During the call, I’d started walking to Rebecca’s, but now I change direction. I head across the bridge, passing the construction where they’re fixing a crack in the barrier. I amble by the old hotel, with its pretty flower gardens and tacky fountain that spurts water from fish-mouths. WhenI arrive at the art gallery, I pull off my sweater and check the time. It’s way too early for the gallery to be open. Wow, my brain is fried. I go into a new breakfast place next door to the gallery and eat bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast, and as I eat and drink bad coffee I feel myself come to life, a little.
By ten, I’m ready. I go inside to look for Ana. I’m told she’s setting up in the Kids’ Studio at the back, a small room furnished with three round tables and loads of small stools.
A smiley woman with dark hair pops her head out of the storage cupboard. “Callie? You’re here about the job?”
I have a moment of panic. It’s ridiculous to come for a job interview feeling like this, but I’ve been too foggy all morning to figure that out. “Hi, yes, that’s me.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
I sit on a stool and Ana smiles warmly at me. She has crow’s feet round her eyes that make her look like she might be in her forties, but she has a surprisingly young voice. She says, “So, you enjoy art?”
“And creative writing.”
While we talk, she folds piles of paper in several colours. “And you’re good with children? I need someone to help clean up, help if anyone’s struggling, hold down the fort, that type of thing. You’d never be on your own with the kids; you don’t have to worry about that.”
“That sounds okay to me. It sounds good.” There’s a screen on one wall and it comes on then,
My phone rings again. “Where are you?”
“Rebecca?”
“We have plans, Cal.”
“We do?”
“Hello? What’s going on? I’ve been away a week but you’ve forgotten our reunion?”
Now I remember. Rebecca and I planned a ridiculously early reunion breakfast because she starts work at eight today. “Sorry. I, um, went out last night. I could be there in ten minutes?”
“Where’d you go?”
“To … BEneath.”
“What? Without me? Callie!”
“I’m know. God, and I got drunk and—”
“Okay, can I have my friend back now? Whoever this is, get off Callie’s phone.” She’s trying to make a joke of it but her voice is tense.
“You’re mad at me.”
“No. Who’d you go with?”
“Ivy.”
“What? Ivy’s back?”
“Um, yeah.”
There’s silence. We’re both thinking it. She says, “Are you seriously doing this again?”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then?”
“You were away.”
“Oh my God, Callie. Forget breakfast.”
“I’m already walking toward your house.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Don’t be mad. I can explain.”
“What? I don’t even want to hear it. Call me when you get over your girl-crush.”
I say, “That’s not what this is about.”
“No?”
“Give me a break, Rebecca. I just went out to a bar with an old friend. You’re being insane.”
“Am I?” She pauses. “Maybe I am. I just … I figured … I thought we’d go to BEneath together the first time. Is that dumb?”
“No …” It’s my turn to backtrack. “It’s me who’s sorry. I really am. I didn’t even think.”
She sucks in a breath. “That’s what bothers me. You didn’t even think.”
“Can I just come over?”
“I’m not really in the mood now. I’ve got to get to work anyway.”
“But how was your trip? How’s your dad?”
“I’ll call you later, okay? I’m not mad.”
“You are.”
“Okay. But I’ll get over it. I’ll call you later.”
I sigh. I guess I should just go for the interview. My clothes are okay: normal, clean. I check my face in the mirror in my phone and use a little of the makeup Ivy gave me to make myself look less tired. During the call, I’d started walking to Rebecca’s, but now I change direction. I head across the bridge, passing the construction where they’re fixing a crack in the barrier. I amble by the old hotel, with its pretty flower gardens and tacky fountain that spurts water from fish-mouths. WhenI arrive at the art gallery, I pull off my sweater and check the time. It’s way too early for the gallery to be open. Wow, my brain is fried. I go into a new breakfast place next door to the gallery and eat bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast, and as I eat and drink bad coffee I feel myself come to life, a little.
By ten, I’m ready. I go inside to look for Ana. I’m told she’s setting up in the Kids’ Studio at the back, a small room furnished with three round tables and loads of small stools.
A smiley woman with dark hair pops her head out of the storage cupboard. “Callie? You’re here about the job?”
I have a moment of panic. It’s ridiculous to come for a job interview feeling like this, but I’ve been too foggy all morning to figure that out. “Hi, yes, that’s me.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
I sit on a stool and Ana smiles warmly at me. She has crow’s feet round her eyes that make her look like she might be in her forties, but she has a surprisingly young voice. She says, “So, you enjoy art?”
“And creative writing.”
While we talk, she folds piles of paper in several colours. “And you’re good with children? I need someone to help clean up, help if anyone’s struggling, hold down the fort, that type of thing. You’d never be on your own with the kids; you don’t have to worry about that.”
“That sounds okay to me. It sounds good.” There’s a screen on one wall and it comes on then,
Similar Books
