Ghostwriter

Chapter 13

     "So, what's it like? Being a local Gothamite? It might help me with perspective and stuff." Gwen sips a hot latte and types on a tablet across the table.

     "It's like wanting to go out and have a late night, but you end up binge watching Netflix instead because you're afraid of the dark."
Not completely true for me (Getting a full eight hours is like the sun), but it was a joke my friends and I made in college a lot. I lost contact with a lot of those friends once school stopped and baby drama started.

     I sigh and lean back in my chair. I'm on lunch break at Piggly's. A true reporter, Gwen managed to track me down (I'm not sure whether to be creeped out, warmed, or annoyed), and badgered me into having lunch with her. So here we sit in the puny coffeeshop portion of the grocery store, her grilling me on different aspects of my life via twenty questions (I'm convinced she's a high-schooler now).

     Gwen peeks up from her tablet. "Aw, but what about all those heroes? Don't they help?"

     I spoon my microwaved ramen noodles and glance at the clock. My break ends in fifteen minutes. "Yeah. But if heroes are proportionate to crime, what kinda state do you think Gotham's in?" I ladle the broth and pour it into my mouth. It burns as it runs down my throat.

     Gwen shrugs. "Well, yeah, I guess. One more question, then it's your turn. We'll switch every five. Why'd you lie about your job? I mean, being a mom is a job, but that's not the answer most people give when they're working."

    I still. "Being a mom is my main job. I didn't lie." I know what she means. I withheld the truth. I work at a grocery store as a bagger.

     "I'm not mad, Antigone. Just curious." Gwen frowns. My chest deflates.

     "Well, it's just, being a mom's my real job," I fumble with my words and trip over my sentences, "I mean, this is my real job too, but I don't... this isn't a part of me. I didn't go to college to work here. I mean, I didn't go to college to be a mom either, but I'm just here to get by, you know? I'm just here now. I'm a mom forever."

     I'm a mom forever. That's a big thought.

     "That's so poetic! Can I write it down? Wait, that's not one of my questions, but still."
I nod and return to my food. Her fingers clack on the keyboard hookup thing that's attached to her tablet.

     Gwen brushes one of her bushels of curls out of her face. When she settles down, I ask my questions. "So, why Gotham city?"

     "Like I said earlier, there's so much to write about here. All the insanity, all the bravery, all the cowardice... it's a bubbling pot of conflict. Not that I plan to get near it, but I don't have any problems with interviewing those who have." Her eyes light up and she gazes into nothing.

     I snap my fingers in front of her eyes, but a grin finds its way to my face. "How old are you?"

     "19." No wonder.

     "College?" There's no way.

     "I'm working on a journalism major and psychology minor at Grow U. Online school, you know." She landed a job in Gotham without a degree? (A job that's better than mine?)

     "How's you get your job then?"

     "Connections, mostly. But they were pretty impressed with the writing I've sent in, too." Gwen smiles. "Careful, you only have one more question."

      I hesitate, but ask anyway. "...why me?"
Gwen frowns and looks up at the ceiling. "You didn't give me the death glare when I spoke to you." She glances down. "Also, you... you don't walk like everyone else. Like, most people here walk around and their eyes glance everywhere and their shoulders hunch. Even the Hill—that his name, right?--- does it. You stare straight ahead, and your shoulders pull back. I just I just... well... it drew me."