Chapter 3
Rosie
Ido not understand your interest in my position, but I prefer patrolling. Guard jobs do not allow for much activity. My favorite is emergency response, though I dislike the emergencies. I just enjoy the challenge and urgency of them. What is your position?
My laugh is smothered in my hand so I don't wake up Betty and Craig. Well, that was almost wholesome. I'm a little put off at the idea of him being in law enforcement, but maybe space cops aren't bad. Maybe? Hopefully. Sigh.
I think about answering him, but I don't really want to talk about the fact that the only job I've been able to hold down for the last two years is mixing up bougie coffees at a local coffee shop. I could tell him I'm a writer. It's almost true. I do write. But that's not what I want to do either.
Instead, I give into my inner slut and surf for a photo of a couple doing it doggy. Before I can think better of it, I caption the image with 'this is my favorite position' and hit send.
The message sends at the speed of old-school dial-up. Though thankfully without the demon screeching sound. I wait for the image to load before flipping tabs to look through the digital job boards.
Not that I have any hope. I've been looking for the better part of a year without any luck.
I am a pathological student. After high school, I went for my bachelor's in writing.
That's where I met Betty. When I told her I wanted to be a doctor in creative writing and literature, she'd supported me.
It took me eleven years to get it with me working part-time, going to school full-time, and Betty supporting me financially for most of it.
I'd thought getting my doctorate would be when I finally settled down and settled in.
I could get a job, easy. I'd be qualified for anything.
Except, Mom got sick and I'd put off looking for a job to care for her.
That year of full-time care was the hardest thing I've ever done and left me numb.
And now there was a year gap in my resume.
The doctorate that I so desperately wanted left me overqualified for many jobs in my field. My useless liberal arts degree didn't give me practical skills for other jobs. I was both too smart and too stupid to do anything but make coffee. It's fucking depressing.
The H.E.L.P. tab flashes and I flip over to see a new message from Rexus. An image is loading and my eyes bulge as it begins to come through.
Ok-aaaay then. I grin and settle into bed to see what exactly this spaceman is into.