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I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t feel the same. You’re a great guy. I’m sure you’ll find someone else before you know it. I promise.
I stare at the screen for almost ten minutes, waiting for a reply. I don’t get one. Maybe that’s for the best. What a fucking mess.
I still feelbad when I get ready for my interview the next day, but I force myself to focus on something other than Sam. He’ll get over it. Right now, I need to ace this interview. I can’t be distracted like this.
The drive over to the North Pole Home for Seniors only takes a few minutes, and I park right outside the big building. I’ve never really noticed it before, even though I know I’ve gone past it many times. It’s kind of grand, actually. Old, but carefully looked after. I get out of my car and take a deep breath. Okay, showtime.
A smiling woman around my mom’s age greets me behind the front desk down in the lobby. She’s round and plump with kind eyes, and I realize that this is the person I had spoken to on the phone.
“You must be Sophie,” she says before I get a chance to introduce myself. “It’s so nice to meet you. My name is Rachel, and if you need anything at all, just let me know.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Rachel,” I greet her and smile.
The corners of my mouth are shaking a little. Now that I’m here, I find myself more nervous than I thought I would be.
“Pauline will be with you in just a moment. You can hang your jacket out here if you like.”
I thank her and put my jacket on a coat rack near the entrance, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants. Pauline must be the boss; I realize that I never actually got her name when we spoke on the phone.
A large woman, with purpose in her step, comes out a moment later. She gives me a curt smile, shaking my hand with a firm grip.
“Hello, Sophie,” she says. “I’m glad you could come in today. We can go talk in my office.”
As we pass the front desk, Rachel gives me a little wave. I relax a little; she seems nice. Pauline takes me to a room with a large desk and some chairs. That’s about it. No pictures on the walls, not even books on the bookshelves.
“Have a seat,” she says, and she sits down on the big office chair on the other side of the desk. “Tell me about yourself.”
I tell her about the work I did at the grocery store, only embellishing a little. I tell her that I grew up in town, and everything else I can think of. Except for my social media profile. I don’t think she’ll be particularly impressed by some suggestive images online.
We talk for another half hour, and she tells me more about what the job entails. It sounds pretty straightforward, and I relax more and more the longer we talk.
“Well, I think this all sounds very good, Sophie,” Pauline finishes and places her hands on the desk in front of her. “If you’re interested, I would be happy to give you the position.”
I nearly jump out of my seat. “Really? Thank you so much. I’m very interested!”
“Good.” A small smile tugs on Pauline’s lips. “You’ll be following a more senior member of the staff for your first week or so, but then you’ll be expected to work independently. It can get a little stressful at times, so I hope you can handle that.”
I nod eagerly. “Not a problem.”
“Great. So, how soon can you start?”
“I can start right away,” I tell her, still in awe that I actually got the job.
“Okay, then. How about you get here around seven-thirty tomorrow morning?” Pauline asks. “We’ll get you some scrubs, and you can get started with your training.”
“Sounds good to me!”
Pauline leaves me there for a moment to get some paperwork, and I do a little dance in my seat. I’ll be making money again. I didn’t even ask about the pay, but it can’t be worse than what I made at the grocery store.
When she places the contract before me, I see that it is, in fact, almost as bad as the pay at my last job, but I don’t care. It’s a salary, at least. I don’t have a lot of other options, so I sign my name on the dotted line, and Pauline shows me out.
“Welcome to the North Pole Home for Seniors,” she congratulates me and shakes my hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
CHAPTER 13
Iget to work right on time, and I’m greeted by a woman about my own age named Allie. She shows me where I can find the scrubs that everyone wears, and I get my own locker for my things. I’m not allowed to have my phone on me when I’m working, and it kind of sucks having to leave it in my bag. But I can’t exactly do anything about it, so I just leave it there with a smile on my face.
“We’ll start with Mrs. Johnson,” Allie says as we walk to the first floor. “She’s an early riser; most of the others prefer to sleep in.”
