Page 22 of Not My Problem

“There’s this companywide picnic this weekend for all the staff and we can bring a date. Do you want to come with me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything, but I’d love to have you be my date. I hate going to things like that alone. Plus, I can introduce you to your new coworkers.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Zoe

I’d been at Gretchen’s house for a week now and things were really looking up in my life. My grandmother was coming back in ten days and sounded excited to see me. My background check had cleared, and I was starting training for my new on-call job for the shelter on Monday. And Gretchen had invited me to a company picnic as her plus one.

She’d also surprised me by buying me clothes. When she came home Friday night Gretchen handed me a bag with two pairs of shorts, a pair of jeans, a pair of khakis, and several shirts. When I protested that I had enough clothes she’d ignored my protest, saying that she’d been at something called Freddy’s and they’d been having a big sale, so she’d grabbed some things she thought I’d like.

I was conflicted. I didn’t want to owe her anything more than I already did, but the part of me that longed to be taken care of appreciated the gesture. She was trying to be nice, I know, but I also didn’t want to be a charity case.

Saturday was a beautiful warm summer day, not the kind of oppressive heat we had in Chicago at this time of the year, more of a mild heat. It was my favorite kind of weather -- warm enough to wear shorts but not hot enough to be miserable. I put on one of my new outfits and wrestled my crazy curls into a long braid that fell down my back.

Gretchen was wearing loose linen pants with a matching short-sleeve shirt and sandals. The outfit bared her tattoos, which I gathered wasn’t something she did very often. I studied them as we drove. I’d seen her bare arms every day but never close enough to get a good look at the artwork on her skin. And that’s what it was too – artwork.

“What?”

She must have felt me staring at her.

“Nothing, I was just admiring the quality of your tattoos. It’s funny, you dress so conservatively at work, but your tats and hair are anything but conservative.”

“I’m a woman of many contradictions,” she deadpanned. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“Yeah, I have a little butterfly on my hip, but that’s it.”

“Amateur,” she teased.

“Maybe I’ll get more sometime,” I said. “But for now, I’m happy with what I have.”

The picnic was happening at a large park outside of the city. It took us about forty minutes to get there, mostly because of the traffic, and the parking lot was already crowded when we arrived. Gretchen parked her car into a spot at the far end of the lot, and we followed the sounds of laughter and kids to find the team.

My eyes widened when I saw the crowd of people filling up the seating pavilion and surrounding grassy areas.

“My god, how many employees are there?”

“We’ve got about a hundred and fifty,” Gretchen said. “Plus whoever they brought.”

We’d scarcely made it to the edge of the crowd when a tall woman hurried up to us, her eyes taking me in curiously.

“Hi, I’m Rochelle, you must be Zoe.”

I shot Gretchen a curious look and stuck out my hand. “Yes, I’m Zoe, nice to meet you, Rochelle.”

“Rochelle is my work bestie and our quality assurance manager,” Gretchen told me.

“I’m not sure what that is,” I admitted.

“I audit files, compile data for reports, train new staff on file processes, and evaluate the efficacy of our programs,” Rochelle explained. “I heard you’re going to be working for Julia over at the shelter.”

My eyes bounced back to Gretchen again before I answered. “Yes, I start training on Monday.”

“I get notifications of all the new hires for training purposes,” Rochelle explained. “I’ll be working with you on things like privacy training and data entry standards.”

I nodded, then felt a sense of unease. Would my dyslexia be a barrier to that part of my job? I hoped not. I made a mental note to watch more instructional videos.