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“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” More wrinkles seem to appear on her face as it lights up. “I am so excited.”
“So you won’t be staying here anymore?”
“No,” she answers. “And actually, no one will.”
I give her a puzzled look.
“My son wants to have the building renovated since it’s old and all. He has a friend who will be taking care of everything. He’s already made the arrangements.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Are you kicking me out, Mrs. Garland?”
She takes my hand. “I’m sorry, dear. I know you’ve stayed here longer than all the others, and truth be told, I’ve grown rather fond of you. Molly has, too. But it is my son’s decision and he’s made up his mind, so yes, you’ll have to move out after two months.”
My head drops along with my heart. I have to move out?
“Well, Charlie says you can move back in when renovations are done, though Lord knows how long they’ll take,” Mrs. Garland adds. “He said the rent will be higher, but I can ask him to give you a small discount.”
I give her a weak smile as I start to walk away. “Thank you.”
I’m not sure it’s any comfort, though. If the renovations start in two months, I have to find a new place to stay as soon as possible, and doing that will take time, time away from my job hunt. And money, money I don’t have right now.
How am I supposed to move?
My mother’s face and her words immediately come to mind.
If you need anything, anything at all, just call.
I’m sure if I ask her, she’ll be here by tomorrow and help me find a place by next week, even help me move. She and Hal will probably pay for it, too. But I don’t want to. She’s already done so much for me. For God’s sake, I’m twenty-six now. I’m not a child anymore. I shouldn’t be relying on my mother anymore, not for stuff like this.
I have to grow up and get a job.
As soon as I get back to my apartment, I turn my laptop on and start searching for employment opportunities again. I’ve already applied to most of them, though. Should I just email them again? Should I call? Or should I just get a part-time job in the meantime?
I’m contemplating all that as I fidget with the charms on my bracelet when the words on the side of the page catch my eye.
Interns Wanted. Hourly wages. Graduates welcome.
An internship. It’s not the same as a job, of course. It only lasts for a few months and I’ll get paid by the hour. Still, I’ll get paid. And it might just give me the experience I need to land a real job.
I draw a deep breath and click on the ad.
Guess it’s time for me to switch from job hunting to internship hunting.
~
Looking for an internship is nearly just as hard, though. Or so I’ve learned after two days of applying.
There are limited slots and plenty of applicants – not just college graduates but undergraduates as well. And while no experience is required, many of them have tedious screening procedures. No, thank you. I’m not going to waste a whole day taking tests and going through interviews for a ten percent chance of securing an internship which has just a five percent chance of becoming a permanent job.
I take one hand off the wheel to pop a Life Saver into my mouth. Afterwards, I glance at the piece of paper on the passenger seat.
Hopefully, the restaurant that placed the last ad on my list for today doesn’t have too many applicants or a complicated screening procedure.
It’s quite far, I realize as I keep driving towards Sausalito. Farther than I thought. I’m guessing it will take me more than an hour – maybe an hour and fifteen minutes – to drive from my apartment to the restaurant. That thought nearly makes me turn back. I’ve already come so far, though.
Oh well. I might as well take a look at this one.
Finally, I see the restaurant, or at least the house that’s being renovated into a restaurant. There are workers on the roof and on the scaffolding. Planks of wood and piles of sand sit in the front yard.
“Excuse me,” I say to one of the workers as I approach the building. “Would you know who I have to see to apply for an internship?”
He gestures inside the house. “Boss is in the kitchen. Just go around the back and go in through the smaller door.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I go around the back just as he instructed. Sure enough, there are two doors. As I approach the smaller one, which is slightly open, the aroma of butter, spices and seafood drifts to my nostrils. My mouth waters.
I must be going in the right direction.
