Making Home Ch. 01

"I can do this. I can get this job."

Jess and the other girls weren't due to be home for another hour, but I needed to say the words out loud. Like a lot of things in my life, it seemed like it helped if I willed them to be.

Think it. Say it. Think it. Say it. Think. It. Say. It.

If I did that enough, maybe it would happen. Or at least I hoped that it would work. I stared at the computer screen, bright with the application glaring back at me. The obvious fields had already been filled in. Name: Avery Mitts. Age: 20. And the list went on. Phone number. Home address. Email address. Hobbies and interests. Skills.

"Post secondary educational background?" I suppressed a small laugh. I couldn't understand why that might be important for a live-in homemaker, but I filled it in anyway. Maybe the employer was into academic conversation? I highly doubted my less than perfect GPA could lend to that, but I could at least humor a person. After the general section had been filled out, I moved onto the more personal section.

Cooking abilities. My fingers paused in a curled claw-like position above the keys, but then I shrugged and resumed typing. I could cook well enough. Pinching pennies at home with Mama taught me more than a few of the basics. I decided to check the box of intermediate. I was no expert, but the employer wouldn't starve.

Workout ethic. I had to read this field twice. This shouldn't even matter, and it almost put me off of the whole thing. And then my nearly empty food cupboard called to me from the kitchen, or so I thought I heard it, and then realized it was my low blood sugar talking instead. I racked my brain for an answer. For argument's sake, it was currently a good mile walking distance to campus. I had classes five days a week. According to that math, I was standing pretty well in that department. I decided to check another intermediate category.

Organizational skills. Now here, I could excel. I checked expert. Have you seen my closet? All five shirts and two sweaters impeccably clean, hung up, and color coded. All seven colors.

Knowledge of house maintenance. A druggy mother and dead-beat dad didn't teach me much in that area, so I decided to go with beginner. If it was a deal breaker, then so be it. I could change light bulbs and clean a lint trap, bare minimum. So, I had potential.

Cleaning abilities. I could learn. I looked around my and Jessie's bedroom. My side was tidy with my spread pulled up my bed and my desk orderly. We had a chore chart in the house, and I was pretty good at keeping up with that, so, moderate it was.

Ability to learn. I mean, I was in college. Learning was basically my full-time job for at least another semester. Maybe a year if the University decided to change something about my graduation requirements, which they've done to other students in the past. I checked the 'other' box and wrote in: 'highly willing'.

I was about to hit the 'send' button but hesitated for a moment too long. Without warning, the door swung open. Like I had been caught looking at porn, I slammed the cover down and sat up on my bed, my heart racing.

I tried to lean back casually, but my body felt as stiff as my cheeks felt red. "Oh, hey, Jess! How was the study sesh?"

Jess was peppy and, despite that not being my thing, I still liked her. I felt like we got along pretty well, even though our personalities were miles apart. Along with two other girls, we were renting a cozy two-bedroom house for a small fortune to live close-ish to campus. A consequence of the outrageous rent was having to share a bedroom in order to afford it. Fortunately I lucked out.

She narrowed her eyes at me but entered the room. "Not bad. I mean, I'm getting super burnt out and could really use a lay, but you know how it is. Am I right?"

"Yeah, a lay. Totally want to get one of those in the immediate to near future." I cleared my throat and squeezed my eyes shut. I had no idea why I couldn't avoid being so stupid. I couldn't believe she hadn't written me off as a complete psychopath yet.

Her brows pulled together as she looked me over. She chuckled. "Is everything okay?"

Sweat began to bead at the back of my neck, and I bit down on the meaty part on the side of my finger. It hurt, but I needed the distraction from my crumbling social skills. "Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. You just seem a bit.. on edge." The backpack she had shouldered slid down her arm to the floor by her bed. She walked to my side and yanked my finger from my mouth. "And you always do that when you're guilty about something."

I shrugged a little too hard, feeling a pinch in my traps as a muscle seized. "Finals, I think." I rubbed at the spot with a wince.

"Hm." She turned away and went about her business as I scooted to the back of my bed and repositioned my tablet on my lap.

I pretended to be checking my phone while she finished putting her things away. She flopped down onto her bed with a small and contented sigh and stared up at the ceiling.

"Uh, Jess?"

"Hm?"

"If I were to, I don't know, find another place to live and it happened to be a really good opportunity for me, would you and the girls be okay if I moved out?"

She turned onto her side and looked over at me lazily. "Of course. There are a ton of girls who are looking for another place to live. From what the landlord told me she has never had a problem filling rooms in this house." She cocked a brow. "Why? Find something better?"

I crossed an ankle over the other as I tried to play nonchalant. "I found a live-in job, but I don't know a whole lot about it just yet. I was thinking of applying."

She turned onto her back and threw her arms out to her sides. "You totally should apply. I mean, I like you and think you're a pretty awesome roomie, but I would never want to hold you back from anything."

I studied her as she moved about casually, as if she hadn't just said something super deep and meaningful to me. "That's really sweet."

She gave a small laugh and rolled over to lean over the edge of her bed to reach her backpack. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it." She began to rummage through it.

A stupid smile crept across my face, and I returned to the task at hand. Resting my back against the wall, I opened up the screen. I looked over the application one more time and made sure everything was as I wanted it to be. Forcing a breath between pursed lips, I clicked submit and waited for the confirmation screen. A little bead of excitement wormed its way through my chest.

Okay. So, I just did that. If I got the position, I would get spending money on top of free room and board. I would have been an idiot to pass up an opportunity like that, but a small part of me just needed Jessie's blessing to move forward with it. Satisfied with my accomplishment, it was time to study.

I glanced over at my roomie and noticed that she was heavily engrossed in texting. I vaguely wondered if it was a guy. I envied her. She was the type who made friends so easily. Sure, she invited me out when she and her other friends decided to go bar hopping, but I couldn't seem to get away from the awkward teen phase. I had the same problem all throughout high school and couldn't imagine why I expected college to be any different. That, and going out meant spending.

But, despite it all, Jess never seemed to mind me. She didn't make fun of me or push me away like the other girls I went to school with, and she always seemed to try so hard to include me. She remembered my birthday and had surprised me each year with something small waiting on my bed. Part of me was sad to think that we might not be roommates anymore if I did get this job.

Pushing the negativity aside, I rolled over in bed and pulled a notebook out of my backpack. I would begin with virology and end the night with gross anatomy. As I flipped through the notes, my mind began to wander to the person behind the want ad. It had seemed too good to be true when I first came across it; A hand written flyer on a tack board in the food court that said:

Wanted: Highly motivated individual to work as live-in homemaker. Please email for more information.

Maybe it was some strange creepy dude old enough to be my grandfather. Or maybe it was some lonely middle-aged woman who didn't want the hassle of keeping house anymore. Whatever. I didn't care so long as I was getting paid. My mind began to fantasize a bigger bedroom. Maybe it would be fully furnished like this one. Even if it wasn't, I would be willing to sleep on the floor to be able to pay my bills.

Jessie's voice tore me from my fantasy, "Oh, Hannah and Emily wanted me to tell you that we're getting together at Applebee's on Saturday to celebrate the end of term. We're all going back to our folks' places during the holidays, so it'll be our last time to hang before the break is over. You in?"

i didn't even have to think on it. It would be a hard pass, but I couldn't turn her down just yet. I was always turning them down to go out. But if I got this job, I would be able to treat myself once in awhile. I might be able to make it work, but the timing had to be right.

"Yeah, I'll let you know."

"Cool." She turned back to her phone.

I forced a smile before I returned to my notebook. When I finally got to the point where my head felt like it was swimming, I crawled under the threadbare covers of my bed and turned off my side table lamp. That night I dreamt of mixing up the levels of bifurcation for the abdominal aorta and the inferior vena cava on my lab final. That would mess up my answers for the secondary and tertiary questions that followed. The result? A gross anatomy student's nightmare.

Finals were drawing nearer and I needed to spend the next day studying. With the idea of that job in the back of my mind, I tried to blot out my daydreaming as I poured over humanities notes. I didn't think that the final wouldn't be anything too difficult, but that was no reason to be lax about reviewing.

Staying home made me too comfortable. I just wanted to lay in bed and scroll on my phone. I knew I could focus if I found a spot at the library. I glanced at the window, the sheer curtains offering a plain view. The poplars in the yard boasted naked branches that swayed relentlessly. Windy today. Just like every day in winter. With a grunt, I flipped over in my bed and forced myself to start moving around to get ready.

Jess was still sleeping and probably would be for another hour. I made sure to get up before the others because if we weren't awake at the same time, they wouldn't have an opportunity to see what was stored in my food cupboard. Or lack thereof.

Coffee grounds, my French press, cereal and oats, bread and peanut butter. My shelf in the fridge usually only had milk, a jar of jelly, carrots, and eggs. Broccoli was also cheap, and I kept that in the freezer. Chicken was the cheaper option for protein compared to other meats, so I grabbed it whenever it was on sale and stored that in the freezer as well. No butter. No extra sugar. No herbs or spices. Not even salt or pepper. Extras were a luxury. Necessities were survival. Surviving was my current game with luxury as the end goal.

My diet was bland, but I made sure to hit as many food groups as possible. I was fortunate enough to learn a little more about nutrition and balance out my diet more than my previous habit of boxed dinners. Regardless, I splurged once in a while on boxed macaroni and cheese because even if it wasn't the healthiest, it was still really tasty.

Aside from what I kept in the house I had learned other ways to be frugal. I was unofficially part of a variety of campus clubs, many of which had taco bars or Mediterranean food delivered during lunch meetings. My scanty diet made it easy to stay slim, although I knew I was a little skinnier than was considered healthy. Psychology dictates that healthy is attractive. My body was a walking advertisement for infertility: 'You do not want to mate with me!'

I finished making myself a weak cup of coffee and poured it into my thermos. I scarfed down a bowl of cereal and filled my water bottle. After washing my dishes, I made my way to the front door and began to pull my winter gear from the closet. Coat, boots, and warm wool mittens. Lastly, I wrapped a scarf around my face and opened the door to begin the trek to campus.

A gust immediately hit me as I stepped outside, as if the weather knew my situation and was purposefully trying to make life difficult. A familiar arthritic-esque ache bloomed in my cheekbones, and I hurried my steps. The cold was unforgiving this morning. Every breath I took in was a little painful.

The Mississippi River bordered the east side of campus, and I had to cross a long bridge to get to class every day. The walk didn't usually bother me until winter hit. And this December was especially brutal and windy. As I carefully ambled over slick patches of ice on the sidewalk, I looked over the rail at the opaque ice that covered the river. During nice weather, it was actually quite serene and beautiful. But right now, an open span of water was the perfect recipe for super gusts to reach through stitching in my clothes and bite at my skin.

By the time I reached the library, snot had ineloquently frozen to the flares of my nostrils, and it was thawing in stringy tendrils that dripped. As if I didn't look bad enough already. I quickly dug in my coat pocket for a handkerchief and vigorously rubbed at my nose until it was red and dried.

"Good morning," I offered to the work study student sitting at the front desk. She smiled at me and took a sip of her cardboard cup of Starbucks.

That must be quite the life, having money for a four-dollar cup of jo each morning. I silently saluted my thermos to her and zoned in on an empty partitioned desk close to the computer lab. I settled into the hard wooden chair and pulled out my notebook and laptop. As soon as I cracked open the cover, a ding sounded on my phone before I had a chance to silence it. I looked to the screen and noticed I had a new email. My heart beat a little faster as I swiped the screen open. The subject line of the email was, 'Interview'. I clicked on the message:

Thank you for your application. Mr. Crawford is interested in setting up an initial meeting for formal interview. He has availability at either 1830 Tuesday or 1800 Thursday. Which slot would best fit your schedule?

-Patricia

Wow, that was fast. I pulled open my planner and scanned the calendar. I didn't have any finals that late on Tuesday, but I had my composition final the very next morning. Looking at Thursday evening, I had my physics final. I typed in a reply for Tuesday and hit the send button. So, Mr. Crawford, was it? I guess he was a creepy old dude then. Or maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be a creepy old dude. Maybe he was a spicy dude. But I shook that thought away as it was never my lot in life. It was more likely that he was old, crotchety, and a regular consumer of prunes.

I pushed the thoughts aside and tried to return focus to the notes set in front of me. These finals were everything and I needed to do well. If I ever wanted to be able to make a difference. If I ever had any hope of breaking away from it all. If I ever had a shot at happiness, this was it.