Inveigle

Chapter Four:Nowhere to Go

I arrived just as the librarian unlocked the door, so I was first to sign up for an hour of computer time. A few minutes later the seats around me filled up with others who had no internet access at home. The chair next to me was taken by a man in a brown coat that reeked as if the original color of the coat had been white. As I waited for the home screen to load, I took my hood down to let my hair thaw.

Inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. Breathing in deeply to remind myself not to get my hopes up, I typed my username and password into my email account. I filtered through multiple spam messages before I saw it, an email from Rucker's Law Firm. I clicked on it. I exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My stomach sank as I read, We thank you for your application with Rucker's Law Firm. Regretfully, the secretary position has been filled. Best of luck. None of the other applications I had sent even replied.

I logged off, too upset to search for another job. Thinking about The Palace as my home and work place for the foreseeable future made my stomach flip. I had looked almost every day for the last few months. There were no job openings in this city, at least none that I was qualified for. It had been 8 months since I was let go from my job as the secretary at Blake and Dunn, an attorney's office a few townships over. The funny thing was, when the business was suffering, I was the one who mentioned to the office manager that restructuring and downsizing could save them. I had even spoken with him about moving offices to a more affordable area. The next week he held a meeting for the whole nine people he employed and informed us that he had been doing a lot of thinking as of late. That he had solely bore the burden to fix his business. The only thing to do was restructure and move. By restructuring he meant he was letting me and another girl go.

Sarahi, was her name. I haven't heard from her since, but I can imagine she is at least warm today. She was a few years younger than me, and still lived with her parents when the company was "saved". I never told my parents I was fired. Actually, I couldn't remember if I told them I had been hired.

The last time I saw them was my second Christmas break from college. My baby brother sat in a high chair, only three months old. It was the first time I had seen him. My parents had been too busy studying up until the birth and the weeks following for me to visit. M-115 D-120. The tattoo shone brighter than any Christmas ornament on the tree that year. His head was kept shaved, so no fine baby hairs would cover the numbers.

I wasn't surprised when they told me they couldn't help me with my tuition anymore. I wasn't really theirs, and this was their way of telling me I wasn't their child anymore. I was a government placement to grant their wish 19 years earlier when they thought they couldn't get pregnant.

I walked in between the false wood shelves, waiting until my hair was completely dry before I ventured outside again. I flipped open the occasional book as I walked, more out of habit than interest, a good way to avoid eye contact with some of the less upstanding patrons of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library.

I passed a shelf with SAT prep books on it. Thoughts about my time at college swum up out of the depths of my memory. What a wasted degree, communications. Why didn't I pick something in the sciences? Would it have mattered? I did nothing with it, found a job as a secretary my last year of college and kept it for four years, and now it is worthless. Who wants to hire someone that has never had experience in the field after four years? But before I could get lost thinking about my past dream job as a social media director, the shaking of coins in a styrofoam cup pulled me back into reality. "Spare change, Ma'am?" asked a man wearing jeans that were more air than material. I shook my head.

The man continued past me mumbling, "Have a blessed day. Persim cares for you." I did not return his government blessing and made my way to the door. Pam will be mad at me if I am not back before noon to help with the bedding. Not that there is much to wash. I touched my hair to feel that it was dry and braced myself for the cold. The metal push bar was freezing, and a burst of icy air seeped through my cotton jacket. I quickly pulled my hood up again and reinserted my hands into my pockets as I set a fast pace.