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It’s so depressing.
He looks around to make sure no one is listening.
“Ok, I guess I can tell you. The rumors are true; tuition is going up because otherwise the school doesn’t have enough money and will have to shut down. They completely mismanaged their budget this year.”
His words send bolts of anxiety through my brain. I turn and leave the office as quickly as I can.
I can hear him shouting after me, “Hey, I wasn’t supposed to share that info with you, and I did. You owe me a date!’
My mind is racing. As I walk back outside, hurrying to work, I try to think about whether I can find any new clients or how to get extra shifts to cover this rising expense. Cleaning houses only pays so much, no matter how good of a job you do.
Though it’s not always easy work, its steady work, which is about all you can ask for when you are on a student Visa. Thank goodness the guy I clean these houses for is rich.
My job isn’t too far from the school, but that isn’t saying much, since everything is relatively close in this town. The only thing that is quite a distance is the house of my host family, or the people that I’m staying with while I study here.
As I approach work, I start to worry about the rising tuition again. I’m just about to knock on the door and it opens. I’m startled and so is the woman who opens it.
“Oh!” we both say in surprise.
She clears her throat and looks at my school bag and the outfit I’m wearing.
“You must be the cleaning girl,” she states.
“Yes, I’m Melissa,” I reply.
She nods.
“I was actually waiting for you; my father owns the house….” she says.
She hesitates, as if there’s something she wants to say, but is unsure how to say it.
“You were waiting for me?” I ask her after a few seconds.
“Yes, well, I don’t know how to say it, but my father just passed away…” she says softly.
I can feel a sinking sense of doom and sadness in my stomach.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply.
I meant it; the old guy was a decent guy to work for.
“Yes, thank you.”
She clears her throat and continues talking.
“I hate to do this, but because of his passing, you’re no longer needed here anymore. I’m sorry.”
I suck in a deep breath of air, but I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
“Oh, well, I understand,” is the only response I can muster up.
But after a few seconds, I add, “I should go then. Sorry again about your dad!”
I can hear the door close as I turn and walk away.
I can’t believe my bad luck.
I decide to head home to the house I share with my host family, feeling dejected.
Chapter 2
Melissa
Later I finally arrive at home. I walk in the door and am greeted with silence.
“Thank goodness,” I mutter to myself, because it means that my host family isn’t home.
I’m so grateful for that because, even though I like them, after the day I have had, I really don’t feel like dealing with anyone yet. I can feel a headache starting to build because of all the emotions from today.
I look at the clock and realize that it’s still a long while before everyone else is supposed to be home. I guess getting fired today means that I got here earlier than them.
I pull off my jacket and walk upstairs to the bathroom. I can feel my emotions taking over again, so I turn on the radio as loud as possible.
After putting away my jacket and bag, I decide to run the water for a bath. I’m trying to distract my mind to keep my emotions in check. I want so badly to cry and scream along with the music on the radio. I probably would, but I’m afraid my host family would come home and hear me and think I’m some kind of lunatic.
I’m adjusting the temperature of the water when the phone rings. I try to ignore it, but it just keeps on ringing.
I sigh in frustration and turn off the water. Then I hurry to answer the persistently ringing phone.
“Hello?” I ask, knowing that I sound a little irritated.
“Wow, is that any way to greet your best friend?” a voice asks from the other end of the phone.
My mood lightens a little as I realize I’m talking to my best friend from back in Idaho.
“Sorry, Sheila, I was in the middle of something,” I explain.
“That’s okay,” she replies.
There’s a momentary pause in the conversation. It’s been a while since we talked. I take the phone into the kitchen and sit in one of the chairs at the table.
“So, how are things with you?” I ask.
“Oh, I’ve been doing well; perhaps very well….” she says.
