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“So,” said Mrs. Tanaka, still holding the cat, “your mother tells me you intend to quit being my house cleaner.”
The brush in Brielle’s hand stopped mid-scrub as she stared back up at the slightly elderly woman. “That’s not true,” she said.
“She said you’re looking for a ‘better’ job.”
“Oh,” said Brielle, moving her hand in a circular motion again. “That’s true, but there’s nothing promising yet.”
Tigger squeaked and started pushing against Mrs. Tanaka’s shoulder, so she bent over to let him scurry off behind her. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
She crossed her arms and stared down at Brielle, strangely interested in Brielle’s life instead of her own for once. “I’m not sure,” admitted Brielle, cringing. “I studied history and philosophy, so I thought maybe a museum. Or research. Or something.”
“You don’t sound like you have much of a plan.”
Dipping the brush in a bucket of water, Brielle shrugged. “I never knew what I wanted to be. I just knew what I liked studying. I figured the rest would fall into place later.”
Snorting, Mrs. Tanaka fluffed at her hair in the bathroom mirror. “To be young and hopeful,” she said. “And what about a boyfriend or fiancé, hmm? How does he play into this?”
“I don’t have one.” The words came out so quickly, she almost regretted it. No, she just had a guy she couldn’t stop thinking about, a guy she practically had to force herself to wait and see. Part of her wasn’t sure why she’d feigned being busy until the weekend, but she was afraid of giving him too much hope. Only one more day. Archer had said he’d blocked off the entire day for her, had asked her to a movie and said Pauline was giving him a ride so he could meet her there. Maybe he thought it too awkward for them both to ride with her like school kids.
Her blurting didn’t go unnoticed. “You sound defensive,” said Mrs. Tanaka. “Recent breakup?”
“Yes,” said Brielle, knowing she wasn’t lying since she had just been dating Daniel a few months ago. The thought made her want to hurl just a little. “But that was definitely for the best. Believe me, I’mnothaving second thoughts there.”
“You should get back into the dating scene.” Mrs. Tanaka grabbed her hair brush off the sink—Brielle hoped she wouldn’t expect her to wipe the stray hairs away again. “A rich husband could solve all your problems.”
Brielle had to laugh at that. Somehow, she couldn’t picture herself wining and dining the days away, arm-in-arm with a rich guy in a suit who would trade her in for a newer model in a decade or two.Archer’s rich, apparently. Sort of. Or his parents are.She wasn’t sure why she’d thought about that. Even if she married him, she wouldn’t be hobnobbing about town arm-in-arm. Where did rich people hobnob in a small town anyway? The country club? That tiny downtown art gallery? But that was all beside the point. She was in no position to consider marriage.
“I’m not opposed to dating again,” said Brielle. “I’m sort of seeing someone,” she added before Mrs. Tanaka could offer up some nephew or cousin’s son. “But I don’t want to get settled in a relationship when I don’t even know where I’m going to be in a few months.”
“Be here,” said Mrs. Tanaka, looking over her shoulder, where several drawn-out meows were echoing throughout the hallway. She patted Brielle. “You’re a good cleaner.”
“Thanks,” said Brielle, spraying some more cleaner around the base of the toilet.
For some reason, being told she was good at this job instead of just being talked her ear off about how she needed to do better made her feel even worse about the prospect of being stuck with it.
* * *
The breeze wasthat deceptively tepid kind that made you feel like if you closed your eyes, you just might be on a tropical island instead of the Midwest (before the occasional blast of cold air snapped you out of it), so Brielle waited for Archer outside of the cinema. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a movie in the afternoon instead of the evening—or the last time she’d seen a movie in a theater, period.
Her eyelids were still closed when she jumped at the sound of a van door opening and a familiar voice. “Did we keep you waiting so long you fell asleep?” asked Pauline. “You’ll have to excuse him. My grandpa drives faster.” She stepped aside and gestured behind her through the open passenger door toward the driver seat. Archer sat there in his wheelchair in front of the steering wheel.
Brielle covered her mouth in surprise. “You can drive!” It sounded stupid when she said it.
She could have sworn she saw his cheeks color. “Driving’s one thing. Parking is another.”
“Oh, you can park just fine. It’ll just take some more getting used to.” Pauline turned around to grab her purse from the van floor. “In fact, I’m going to let you handle this one solo.”
“I’m not supposed to drive without supervision yet,” said Archer, the panic clearly coloring his face. He winced as his gaze brushed past Brielle’s. “Learner’s permit.”
“Dear me, I think you already technically put the car in park just now.” Whipping a pair of sunglasses out of her purse, Pauline slid them over her nose and shut the van door. “Guess I’ll be on my way.” She slid her glasses down to wink as she passed Brielle. “Seriously, though, come get me if he crashes into anything. I’m going shopping while you’re at the movies.”
Archer visibly took a deep breath and then shifted gears on the wheel, pressing some buttons that didn’t exist on a typical car to get the car moving. His eyes widened as the car pulled away from the corner a little too fast, but he pushed some buttons again and seemed to get a handle on it. Brielle lost sight of him as his van found an open handicapped spot a few rows over from where she stood. She walked down the sidewalk and watched as his door opened and a ramp extended to get his chair down. It was actually pretty cool. She didn’t know cars could be made that accessible for disabled drivers.
He started heading toward her, then turned in the completely opposite direction. Brielle stood puzzled for a minute and then felt dumb when she realized there was only one ramp up to the sidewalk and she was standing nowhere near it. She walked toward him.
He paused in front of the theater door, rifling through his pocket to pull out his wallet. Brielle realized the door wasn’t one of those automatic ones, so she pulled it open for him.
“Thanks,” he said, pulling out his credit card and going through.
