Chapter Ten

Miranda gets called in for a job interview, after which she gets a call from Floyd, asking her to join him in visiting Alice at the institution.

There is something really weird about feasting on the dead body of an animal.

Don’t get me wrong, I love meat. But every once in awhile, when I’m eating a piece of chicken and I get down to the bone, I realize that I’m actually tearing away the dead muscle tissue of a once living creature, and my appetite begins to fade away.

I’m sure that I could never be a vegetarian, though.

It’s just some weird thing that happens to me every now and again, for reasons I can’t explain.

So here I am, on a bright and overly-sunny Thursday afternoon, my face loaded with dead chicken muscle, when my phone rings.

I check the phone. It’s a number I don’t recognize. In a hurry to swallow my chicken, a little bit goes down the wrong pipe, and I end up coughing what’s left of the meat all over my table.

I wipe my mouth, clear my throat, and answer the phone.

“Hello?” I wheeze.

“Hello,” comes a pleasant female voice. “May I speak to a Mrs. Miranda Vasquez?”

“Miss,” I correct. “And this is she. How may I help you?”

“Hi, Miranda. This is Courtney Hamilton from Willow Cleaning Services. Were you still interested in a job with us?”

I sit up straight. This was fast! It hasn’t even been a week since I applied.

“Well, yes!” I tell her. “I mean, definitely!”

“Oh, good,” says Courtney. “When do you think is the earliest you’ll be able to come in for an interview?”

I grin huge.

“I’m not busy today,” I say. “Do you have any appointments open for later today?”

“Sure thing. How’s…” I hear the sound of typing, and then Courtney’s asking me if 3 o’clock would be alright.

“That’s perfect,” I say. “Three o’clock.”

“Great! We’ll see you then! Oh, and please try to show up about ten minutes early so you can fill out some paperwork.”

Paperwork? This is looking really good.

“Alright,” I tell her. “2:50 it is! See you then!”

I hang up, happier than I’ve been in days and rush to my room to start getting ready.

I slip on my best suit and a brand new, run-free pair of panty hose, then mist myself with my best perfume before heading to the bathroom to take care of my hair and face.

So it’s a cleaning agency. I probably don’t have to look my best to clean houses, but I should at least look decent for an interview.

I get my hair straightened out and pin it back on either side with small, silver barrettes.

Next comes makeup, which is becoming much less difficult as I get better at doing it.

What once took about 20 minutes now takes about five.

I’m in high spirits today, and it feels good.

At least, it feels good up until the moment that my phone alerts me of a new text message and I flip it open to a nosy “What are you doing?” from Alfonso.

“What I’m doing,” I respond, “is I’m going through a really difficult time in my life, and I just need space. I’m sorry. When I made that ad on Craig’s List, everything was fine. But my life has gone to hell in the last few days, so please just give me some space, and maybe we’ll talk again someday.”

The reply sends as two separate messages and I hope that he gets them in the right order.

Even if he doesn’t, hopefully he is at least smart enough to figure it out.

But that’s it, and I’m not responding to him anymore after that.

This reminds me, I should probably go delete him from my friend’s list real quick, too.

Sitting down on my love seat, I grab my laptop from the side table and open it up.

I log into my social networking website and type Alfonso’s name into the search bar, which brings up his profile.

My stomach churns as I look at his status posts from the last few days.

“I wish I could talk to Miranda.” Sadface.

“Miranda’s not answering my texts. She must be asleep, still.”

“It’s always so boring without Miranda to talk to.”

My heart begins to drum as I scroll through all these statuses, where hardly a single one is about something other than me.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve just found the girl I’m going to end up marrying.”

I shut my eyes tightly.

I am never doing this again. I’m not meeting people over the internet anymore.

It’s obvious that this man is a stalker. Why did I not learn? Everyone I’ve ever tried to meet online has turned out awful.

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can’t I just go hang out at the bookstore a few days a week and hope that Floyd isn’t there to distract me from my true intentions?

I remove Alfonso from my friend’s list and then block him immediately afterwards.

Luckily, he hasn’t sent a reply to my last text message, and I pray that this streak will continue.

Looking at the clock, I find that it’s already past time for me to leave, so I grab my purse from beside the couch and march out the door.

In the car, I reach for a cigarette, and then stop myself.

I can’t show up at a job interview reeking of tobacco smoke. Bad form.

I thank God that the traffic seems to be fairly calm and almost every light I come to is green.

I arrive at the building not a moment before or after 2:50 and attempt to hurry inside without looking rushed.

In the lobby, there is a woman at a desk. She looks up at me, her perfect blonde curls bouncing, and says “Are you Mrs. Vasquez?”

“Oh, I’m not married,” I tell her. “But I am Miranda. I have a 3:00 interview with Courtney?”

“Mm-hmm. Just fill this out for me, if you will.” She hands me a clip board with a pen attached and tells me to go sit down.

The form seems to be something of an emergency information sheet, asking for things like my doctor’s name, and names of people to contact in case of emergency.

Allergies to latex, or paint.

Known medical conditions.

Most of the things don’t really apply to me, so I fill out what I can and then return the form to the secretary, who informs me that Courtney will be right out.

And sure enough, before I even have time to take my seat again, a tall woman with dark brown hair emerges from a door and welcomes me back to her office.

“You must be Miranda,” she says, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m Courtney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I smile, assuring her that the pleasure is all mine.

Courtney sits down at a desk, and I take the seat opposite her.

Putting on a pair of glasses, she smiles at me.

“Well,” she says. “How are you today?”

“I’m alright,” I tell her. “It’s been kind of a crazy week, but I’m dealing.”

“Well, I appreciate the honest response. Now, Miranda… Have you ever worked for a cleaning agency before?”

I tell her that I haven’t.

“No,” she says. “Alright, well that’s not a problem. But you will need some training, so how about we start you… can you start tomorrow? Oh, that’s probably too soon, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. “I can probably come in tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. Well, let’s get you a uniform, and then I’ll send some papers and pamphlets home with you, too. Sound good?”

I nod, smiling.

Some interview! Not that I’m complaining, but no one has ever hired me so quickly before.

“What size clothes do you wear?” asks Courtney. Skinny Courtney. I can only imagine what size she must wear, so I’m embarrassed when I mutter that I wear a large.

“Large,” she says. “Okay, great.”

She rummages through a closet and then pulls out a papered hanger with a light pink dress attached.

“Here’s your dress,” she says, handing it over. “And here…” she reaches into the closet and pulls out something white, wrapped it shiny plastic. “Here is your apron. If they don’t fit you comfortably, just bring them back in, and we can get you a smaller size.”

I smile uncontrollably.

She actually thinks I’m too small for a large.

Courtney moves to the desk again, and pulls some things out of a drawer.

“This,” she says, handing me a little pamphlet, “is a safety procedure information guide. I highly recommend that you read through that completely before tomorrow. And this…” she hands me a loose piece of paper. “This is your tax information form. Please fill it out tonight and hand it into my receptionist in the morning. Okay?”

I nod, looking the paper over.

“Alright, so we’re probably good. Tomorrow morning, I want you to come in at 9:30. I’ll find someone for you to partner up with for the next few days while you learn. Normally, you’ll come here in the morning and I’ll give you the address of your client, as well as their key, but for the time being, I’ll probably just give the key to your partner, and you can meet her at the house. Sound good?”

I nod again.

“Alright! Well, thank you for coming in, Miranda! Welcome aboard! I look forward to having you here!”

I shake hands with Courtney and then exit the building, feeling amazing.

I got myself a job! And it only took a few days!

I’m going to start over new. My life is going to change, and I hope it’s for the better.

As I step into my car, I feel my cell phone vibrate in my pocket.

Tentatively, I pull it out, relieved to find that it’s only Floyd.

“What’s up?” I ask, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Alice checked herself into the nut house,” he says. “She checked in yesterday, but they wouldn’t let her have visitors the first night.”

“Well, at least she finally decided to seek help for herself,” I say. “I was worried about her.”

“Yeah, well… She wants us to come visit tonight if we can. I’m not busy. What about you?”

“Nope,” I tell him. “But check this out: I just got myself a new job.”

“A new job? What, are you done being a psychiatrist, or whatever?”

I heave a sigh.

“If only there were a word stronger than YES,” I groan. “One of my patients committed suicide last week, and it hit me really hard, so I felt like I should resign.”

“Oh, damn,” says Floyd. “That really sucks. How’re you handling that?”

“I’m better. It hasn’t been easy, but landing a new job and quitting my old one has helped a lot. I feel like I can move forward now and start over and all that happy junk.”

“Well, that’s good,” Floyd says. “Anyway, about tonight? Visiting hours are from six to eight, and I figure that if we’re both going, there’s no point in taking two cars, so do you want to ride with me? I can pick you up at around six. We shouldn’t need to stay the whole two hours.”

“That should be fine,” I tell him. “I’ll just go home and find something to scrounge for dinner. You wanna come over and eat with me? I imagine you’re pretty bored with no one around the house to lie there listening to music.”

Floyd laughs- something I rarely hear him do.

“You have no idea,” he says. “Sure, I’ve got nothing to do till then.”

“Cool. Well, I’m actually on my way home now, so maybe I’ll run into you on the way, or something.”

“Maybe,” says Floyd. “Well, I’ll let you go now, so you can drive. See you soon.”

“Yep. Bye-bye.”

I close my cell phone and put it back in my pocket before lighting up a cigarette and driving away.

With the windows down, the breeze rushes in, tangling my hair and giving me an overall feeling of peace.

I feel refreshed.

Please, God, don’t let anything ruin my day.