Page 51 of Last Letters to Ara
Dad
P.S. Don’t wait until tomorrow because tomorrow is never promised. Find your silver lining today.
I set the letter down before I ruin it with my falling tears. Once again, Dad is right. No matter how much I screw things up, when I’m designing, it all disappears. The fears, that part which isn’t really me that likes to take control of my life, the worries. Designing makes me happier than anything else in this world. It’s my silver lining. My purpose.
I stuff the remaining donut in my teary face and grab my keys.
Job hunting can wait until tomorrow.
Today, I’m going to Jane’s Material Store.
• • •
My heart starts racing as I walk up to Jane’s door, truly not able to believe my eyes when I read the sign posted on her glass door, reading it over and over and over. So simple, yet potentially so monumental.
Help Wanted
I open the door so fast, the usually soft tinkling bells slam noisily against the hard glass as I rush to the counter, where a young cashier looks startled, probably due to the crazed look in my eyes.
“Who can I speak to about applying for a job?” I haven’t even gotten an interview yet and I’m acting like a wild animal. Awesome.
“Jane is in the back unloading a delivery.” She looks me up and down. “You can speak to her about it.”
Taking off running down my favorite aisle, I know this place like the back of my hand, having come here since I got my first machine six years ago. I turn the corner and slow down as I approach the back door, which is currently propped open to the alley behind.
A woman who is obviously well into her sixties is standing at the back of a big truck, about to lift a box which is so big she can hardly get her arms around it. The delivery man is standing about fifteen feet away on his phone, and I realize that if I don’t quickly step in, she is likely to hurt herself.
“Let me help you!” I run to her side, helping to lift the box from the truck. It’s so heavy that even with my help, we struggle to get it to the ground inside the shop.
She wipes her hands on her thick jeans and lets out a breath. “Thanks, I don’t think I could’ve done that on my own.”
Surprisingly potent rage floods my veins, sending my usual anxiety in social situations to a screeching halt. Most of the time I find any route to avoid speaking to strangers, but someone needs to say something.
“Excuse me for a second,” I say as I storm back outside. I stomp right up to the delivery guy and poke him straight in the chest. “What thefuckis wrong with you!? Didn’t you see that old woman struggling to get a box out ofyourtruck? Yourjobis todeliverthe boxes!”
He has the sense to look nervous.
Good.
“I’m-m-m on my break!” He stutters. “I asked her to wait for me to take my twenty minutes, but she said there was too much to do.”
“Then don’t make her wait! Put your phone down and help her.” The look on my face lets him know I’m one-hundred percent serious, and he quickly pockets his phone and gets to work unloading the rest of the boxes.
The old woman walks out with a curious look and approaches me. She probably heard me swearing, and even worse, refer to her asold, making me instantly regret my word choice. “I’m sorry if you heard all of that, I just couldn’t believe his audacity.”
“That’s quite all right. It seems I’ve lost some of my fire, seeing as though I didn’t think to tell him off myself.” She smiles at me and holds out her hand. “My name is Jane.”
Shit.
She’snevergoing to hire me after witnessing that tantrum. All the same, I’m honored to finally meet the woman behind such an incredible store. I happily take her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane, I’m Ara. I’ve been coming to your store for a long time.”
“And what were you doing all the way back here to witness that?”
Cue anxiety.
“I was actually looking for you.” I look down sheepishly. “The girl at the front said you were the one to speak to about the job opening.”
“Well, good. It’s yours if you want it,” Jane says plainly.
