Chapter 3
Zoey
“Good morning Verity,” I say as I walk into the library.
Narrators do not get paid a living wage, and I take on all the side gigs I can get. Bonus points if they actually have to do with voice acting, although, right now I waitress part-time, and I also have myself listed on Craigslist to give lessons for pretty much everything I know how to do. Reading, English as a second language, even math. I wasn’t terrible at it, and I can do elementary school math. I’m not sure I could tutor calculus, but no one’s ever asked me to. I actually have my hourly rate set at fifty bucks an hour for that, and if someone hires me, I’m going to be looking on YouTube channels to see if I can’t brush up my skills. I’m not going to turn a paying gig down, especially if it’s fifty bucks an hour.
But for today, I’m doing my charity work at the library. I do story hour, and it’s one of my favorite things that I do. After all, uses it relates to what I want to do with my life, which is be a voice actor, and I really love children too. So, there’s that. It’s adults that I shy away from.
“Hey Zoe. The kids are waiting for you.”
I look at my watch and see that I’m two minutes late. I used to be so punctual, but...maybe it’s the fact that I’m slowly but surely learning that I’m never going to pay the bills with voice acting.
My parents are going to gloat when I tell them that they were right, but...it’s a little depressing.
“All right. I’ll get started right away.”
I smile with the children as I sit down on the tiny little chair. I’m not that big myself, so while the chair is definitely too small for me, I fit better than most adults do.
“Good morning children,” I say, in my sweetest voice. Usually I don’t have too much trouble charming children. By the time boys get into fifth or sixth grade though, I’m ready to kick them into the world of adulthood, because they stop acting sweet and cute and start acting like men. Just smaller versions of them.
Yeah. I might be a little bit bitter. I’m on okay terms with both of my parents, but they don’t live together. They haven’t been together since I was maybe four, or something like that. Those years were so tumultuous, that they’re are a little blurry. Both of them have had revolving doors of people coming in and out of their lives, even though both of them are professionals, and should know better.
To save my life was unstable is a major understatement. But, it was the men that my mom had that really turns me against adults, in general, and men in particular. Enough said.
Dad is in now married to a woman who sometimes actually feels like a mother, although she loves my older sister more than me.
“Good morning, Miss Zoe,”
I greet them, and say, “I have the best book for you guys today. You are going to love it. Who here likes cows?” Hands shoot up all over the place, as I knew they would.
We’re going on a farm tour next week instead of story hour, all the library programs that morning are canceled, and the kids are going to get to meet cows and horses and donkeys and chickens and ducks and geese and all kinds of farm animals. I think I’m more excited than the kids are to go on this field trip.
I pick up my book, and I do my normal introduction, read the title, state the author, point out the pictures on the front that are relative to the story, and then, I do the thing that I’m really good at, which is reading upside down.
I know classroom teachers all over the world have this down to a science, but considering the fact that I’ve never set foot in a classroom, other than to entertain for hour or so, I feel like it’s a pretty impressive skill.
The kids are not overly impressed with that, but they love my voices. I’ve always had voices, and I choose appropriate voices for each character, never forgetting the voice I’ve chosen, and the kids just love it. That makes me feel good, although I wish that I could actually make money on this.
Why did God give me a skill that’s pretty much unmarketable?
All I do is make kids laugh and smile while reading them stories.
I do try to pick out books that have good lessons for the children, since in today’s world, they’re getting hit younger and younger with things that pervert decency and goodness.
Still, characteristics of courage and honor and integrity and love and sacrifice are still okay to talk about, and there are plenty of children’s books that encourage and celebrate those things. I probably have read every single one of them a hundred or more times. Today I’m reading Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hatches the Egg. It’s one of my favorite books of all time. I love the loyalty that Horton shows, and I love how it works out for him in the end.
I know real life doesn’t always work out that way.
Regardless, I spend an hour with the kids, but by the time I’m done, they’re ready to get up and move. I suppose I should be thankful that they come to the library at all on a Saturday, considering that there are so many other things vying for their attention. Mostly these are kids whose parents care about them, and don’t just let them sit in front of their electronics, although there are a few who I know chose to be here and don’t have great home lives.
“It was a really great story hour. I don’t think a single kid even got up to go to the bathroom,” Verity says, as I packed my books up, stick them in my bag and put it crosswise over my chest.
“I have good books. That really helps.”
“I wish we had more books like the old ones. It just seems like the stuff that’s coming out now is mostly junk,” Verity says, wrinkling up her nose.
I suppose this is a case of all the old movies are the best, everything that happened when we were kids was better than anything that happened today. Although, I agree with her, so I know that I’m probably biased. After all, the stuff you grew up loving, is usually the stuff that you love all your life, right?
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in face painting at the festival,” Verity says, as she set aside a stack of books, and leans a hip against her desk.
“No thank you. Mrs. Higginbotham already asked me if I would be at the dunking booth, and I told her that my grandma was going to die and I needed to go to her funeral.”
“Oh I’m so sorry,” Verity says, putting her hand on my arm.
“I was lying, Verity,” I say, putting my hand over top of hers, patting it once and then lifting it off of my arm.
“You’d lie to Mrs. Higginbotham?” Verity says, shrinking back as though I had coodies.
Maybe I do.
“I was kidding with her, but I told her, in no uncertain terms, that I was not going on the dunking booth.”
“So your grandma isn’t dying?” Verity says, and, while I appreciate the fact that she really cares about me, I sometimes wish that she was a little bit quicker on the draw. But Varity’s a great friend. Very loyal, and a total line walker if you know what I mean.
I am a line walker too, or at least I used to be. Not so much anymore, but I’m not sure what changed.
Maybe it was all the hoopla with me getting booked because of that animal-rights thing. It just made me feel like a person makes one mistake and all of a sudden they are the bad guy.
Regardless, I do feel guilty about it, but it also changed me. For one, I hate cops.
Not like I want to defund the police or anything. Nothing that stupid, but I just don’t want to see anyone in uniform anywhere near me.
“So, are you going to be at the festival?” Verity says, apparently reassured that my grandma is safe.
She died years ago, but there’s no point in bringing up old memories.
“I don’t know,” I say, and what I really mean is I’m not sure I can afford it. I haven’t been going anywhere I don’t have to go. I really, really want to make this voice acting thing work, but my jobs are few and far between, and the ones that I do have don’t pay that well. I have been trying to get my name out there, and doing everything I can, but... It’s been a rough road.
“I am supposed to be doing stuff with the library all day, but I can’t if I’m painting faces.”
Okay, it’s been a rough road, but I can still help out my town. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
She looks relieved, and I wonder why I resisted. Verity is a great artist, but I’m not terrible myself. I even give art and drawing lessons on top of everything else.
I say goodbye to Verity, and I head out of the library. Speaking of work, I’m in the middle of recording a sweet romance book, and while it’s not the best written book I’ve ever done, it’s still sweet and wholesome, which I appreciate.
I’ll go home and practice, doing the very best I can, and maybe this job will lead to an open door and tons of other jobs.
Or, maybe I’ll have to rethink my career choices.
I opened the door to my apartment building, and see the ladies who upholster furniture are still there. I love these ladies, even if they are a little bit pushy.
“Zoe!” Carrie says, her neon green hair sparkling in the florescent lights above her. She seems to be the ringleader, although maybe Phyllis is her co-ringleader.
“Hello, ladies,” I say, stopping and figuring that I’ll chat for a bit. I sometimes try to avoid them, especially when I’m depressed, since they don’t always help with that.
“My grandson is really excited about the farm field trip next week. That’s all he’s talked about all week,” Leslie said. She’s a little bit younger than the other ladies, and she’s super sweet.
“I hope they all have their tetanus shots,” Tammy says. She usually has something negative to add to the conversation, but I think I like her the best. Sometimes I don’t want to have a positive spin. Sometimes I just want to know life the way it is, and a lot of times, Tammy’s right on. Or maybe I’m just negative too, and I just really relate to Tammy.
“I’m excited about it. It’s been years since I’ve been on a farm.”
“When you’re married with children, you’ll be taking a ton of farm field trips, and you know all about it,” Miss Phyllis says, eyeing me over top of the table leg that stuck up from the floor.
“You’re absolutely right. When you find some guy who’s willing to have me, despite the fact that I have no looks, no money and no personality, let me know.”
I’ve been told by various guys over the course of the last twelve or thirteen years all of those things. So, I am in tune with my faults. Of course, I’ve been ghosted by more than one guy too, so maybe I have more, they just didn’t have the courage to tell me. See, I value courage.
“Oh you have plenty of personality,” Carrie said. She looked confused for a minute and then she says, “You have plenty of voices, which I assume goes with every personality you have.”
I bite back a laugh. I think she’s trying to give me a compliment, but isn’t quite sure how to go about it considering that my talent is not exactly mainstream.
“Yeah. Thank you,” I say, figuring that it’s better to just graciously accept the compliment than try to split hairs.
“I have a guy I could set you up with,” Carrie says.
“Not now. Maybe... Next year?” I say, raising my brows hopefully. It seems a little far-fetched that I could actually put her off that long, but I feel like it’s going to take me that long to catch up on all my bills so that I don’t have to sit across from dinner with some dude who’s going to be asking me about my plans in life, while I’m trying to figure out if I have enough money in my bank account to buy beans and rice so I don’t starve for the next week.
“No wonder you’re not married if that’s the way you put things off,” Miss Phyllis says.
“Where’s your parakeet?” I asked, knowing that they had had someone watching it for a while, and it was back, for maybe less than a day, now it’s gone again. Anything to change the subject. I do not want to talk about all the reasons I’m not married with these ladies.
“We have someone taking care of it for a bit.”
I wonder if it’s my neighbor. I’ve heard a strange voice in his apartment for the last few days, and I kind of assumed that he had a girlfriend with a weird frog in her throat or something. But...maybe not.
I haven’t seen my neighbor. He works odd hours. He’s hardly ever around, which is really great for me.
I don’t mean that in a mean way. I should have a padded room in order to do my recordings, but I can’t afford that, so I did my best to make a little booth in my bedroom closet. The one wall borders my neighbor’s apartment, and occasionally I can hear things through the wall, noise my mic picks up and I have to re-record or try to edit out. It’s better for me when he’s not there.
“Alright ladies, I’m off to do some reporting,” I say, liking it when I’m able to say that. It’s not like I’ve got jobs lined up, but when I have a job, it makes me feel good to talk about it.
“Come see me when you’re ready to get set up,” Carrie calls after me.
“I’ll do that,” I say as I disappear up the steps. I don’t trust elevators. And, I’m on the first floor, so it’s not like I have a whole slew of them to go up.
My apartment building is kind of weird because you walk in the basement, it’s set against a bank, and the whole downstairs/basement is basically the sitting room, which the ladies are always in. It’s where they reupholster their furniture.
Someday, someday I’ll be able to afford something a little nicer. Actually, I’d be real content to someday just be able to afford to eat vegetables along with my beans and rice.
Speaking of something nicer, my phone rings as I’m walking to my apartment, and I see that it’s my sister. She married money, divorced it, and is convinced that people are out to get her, because of it.
I suppose she could be right, but sometimes it’s a little bit hard to deal with.
I swipe my phone, knowing that if I don’t answer I will hear about it later, and it will be better for me if I just face her now.
I steel myself, paste a fake smile on my face, and put my phone to my ear. “Hey, Kylie,” I say.
“Zoe! Oh goodness, I need your help. Immediately. This is an emergency. I’m so glad you picked up.”
Everything is always over dramatized with Kylie. I love her. She’s a great sister. She would help me in a heartbeat, and would be horrified if she knew the true state of my financial situation. The fact that she has more money than she would ever be able to spend a lifetime, and that’s saying a lot, doesn’t make her any less wonderful. But the drama. Goodness. The drama.
“Glad I picked up too,” I say, wishing I wouldn’t have, but knowing I can never just ignore her. It might really be something serious this time.
“I need a security guard for Bexley. People are figuring out where I live, and I’m heading to France, and I’m afraid for her life.”
Bexley is the sweetest. I’m not sure how she’s managed to be such a cute, innocent little girl with so much going on in her life, and so much drama for her mother, or maybe that’s what has done it. I don’t know. Sometimes it seems like the harsher circumstances we’re in, the better people we become.
“Don’t you think that’ll be a little ostentatious at school?”
“Oh I’m not worried about her at school. They have metal detectors, and armed guards in the building. It’s when she’s home, when she’s outside. I see cars on the street and all I can see are people who want to kidnap her and hold her for ransom. I have to do something about it.”
“All right. So... Do you need me to get you the number of a security firm?”
“It has to be someone local. I don’t trust those big-name companies. I’m taking my month-long trip to Paris and it needs to be someone I trust, someone I know.”
“All right. Do you want me to help you come up with a list of names?” I’m kind of grasping at straws here. It’s not like I’m the kind of person who needs security, and has ever even researched this topic.
“I need to know the name of the policeman who arrested you. I read that article, by the way. It’s so embarrassing that my sister was running around topless.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, closing my eyes and wondering if that will ever go away. I answer my own question. No. No it will not. I will never live that down.
“Anyway, after I got past the picture, the article said all kinds of wonderful things about the cop who arrested you. I know he handed you over to a female officer to take you in, but... was it Officer...” She drew the name out, like she was thinking. I could hear something that sounded like her snapping in the background.
I don’t know his name. I deliberately do not know his name. I tried to block out every possible thing I can from that day, and I do not want anything to remind me of it. Not even his name.
“I was hoping you could help me,” Kylie says, sounding exasperated, like I was supposed to fill in the name.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was concerned about animals that day, and I wasn’t paying attention to the policeman who arrested me.”
“You read the article. You have to know his name. You probably have the article hung up on your refrigerator!”
“I do not,” I said, trying not to sound exasperated. If I tell Kylie that I want to put that behind me and never talk about it again, I love her, bless her heart, but she’ll bring it up in every conversation that we ever have for the rest of my life. And since I’m planning on living another fifty or seventy years, that’s going to get old really fast.
“Pete!” I can almost hear Kylie jumping up with her hand in the air. “His name was Pete. What was his last name?” she asks, snapping her fingers again.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“I think it was an Irish name. One of those Mac names. Macintosh...McKinley!” she shouts, well, not shouts, but you know what I mean.
“Maybe?” I say, even though that does sound familiar.
“I know it is. Pete McKinley. All right. That’s all I needed to know. Thank you so much for your help. And, you are coming to lunch on Sunday, right? After all, it’s the last time you’ll see me until I get back from Paris.”
She said it kind of a singsong voice like I didn’t see her multiple times every week, and, actually, I will miss her. She’s my sister, and while she and I are as different as two people can be, I love her. And that’s the way it is.
“Oh!” she says like she has just remembered something, but I’m thinking that she meant to ask me all along, because she says, “I’m hoping that you’ll help you’ll still help with Bexley?”
“Of course. It’s a lot for my parents to do, and I’m happy to help. Bexley is a sweetheart.
“I know you don’t make a whole lot at your job, so you know I’ll pay you.”
I know she would. But I love hanging with Bexley and don’t want paid. That’s part of the reason I am rushing to try to get done with the book that I’m currently recording. I know I won’t have a whole lot of time if I have Bexley evenings and weekends.
“Wait a second. Where does the security guard fit in?”
“He’ll follow Bexley around wherever she goes when she’s not in school. I mean, I’ll probably let him go home for the night if she safely tucked away at the house, but... I would rather he stay. I’m going to talk to mom about it. I think she’ll let him stay in the guestroom.”
“He can’t be on duty all the time,” I say quickly, and with not a little bit of panic in my voice. After all, this is the man that I have been avoiding for the last year. It’s a small town, and that’s no easy feat. I don’t want to be face-to-face with him every time I see my niece.
“You’re right. I should tell him he can go home as soon as she’s in bed and the doors are locked for the night.”
“He doesn’t have to be here at my apartment. You need a key to get in the door, and then you need a key to get in my apartment. It is perfectly safe here.”
“We both know that you don’t spend any more time than what you have to in your apartment for your job. You couldn’t spend an hour cooped up inside unless someone makes you do it, which I’m not going to attempt to do. So no. He follows you and Bexley wherever you go.”
There isn’t too much she could have said that would make me feel worse. But I try to shake it off. There’s gotta be a way around this. Just like I’m not actually going to be in the dunking booth, or participating in the festival at all. Other than face painting. I really like that.
My sister and I hang up, and I apparently was able to keep my voice modulated and my tone light, and she doesn’t realize how devastated I am with her news.
I see as I’m hanging up I see that I have a message.
I feel a thrill of excitement. Most of the time, messages are because someone has taken me up on my tutoring offers. I offer piano lessons, in the student’s home, since I don’t have a piano. I don’t play very well either, but I do read music and I can teach beginners. Most people quit before they get through the beginner stage, so I’ve never been challenged on this. I also get guitar lessons, same deal, although I do have a guitar, along with tutoring of math, reading, reading as a second language and drawing lessons.
The drawing lessons are what I really love, and that’s what I’m being asked for in this message.
I try not to sound too enthusiastic as I reply.
I like to start someplace neutral. I prefer the library. That way if it truly is a character who’s up to no good, I’m in a public place.
This person messages back immediately, and that makes me feel like they also prefer a neutral place and feel safe with me.
Sounds great. When can I start?
Again, I don’t want to sound like my schedule is completely open. As in wide-open, other than my waitressing job. My narrating job, I can do anytime. My waitressing job is just in the mornings. Usually I’m done by two.
I’m free tomorrow anytime between two and seven PM.
I try not to cross my fingers as I wait for the reply, walking to my living room and sitting down. Once I’m done with this conversation, I need to go to my closet and continue to record.
How about 2:30?
Perfect. I’ll meet you at the library. I’ll be the one sitting at the table in the corner with a box of crayons sideways on the table beside me.
That’s how I always identify myself to drawing customers. That way they don’t have to look around the library and wonder who in the world they should be approaching.
There aren’t too many adults that sit with a box of crayons at their table.
See you then.
I do a little fist pump, and then, push myself out of my chair and head to the booth. I want to redo the kiss scene from the day before. I just wasn’t happy with the way it turned out. It doesn’t sound realistic. Maybe two...dramatic. Not tender enough. I can’t quite put my finger on what I did wrong, but when I listen to it, it just wasn’t giving me the feeling that I wanted. Once I finish, I can get back to what I do on the side when I don’t have any work coming in, which is recording public domain works and putting them up on my social media channel, and putting short teaser snippets on social media. I did Pride and Prejudice, and it was a lot more popular than what I anticipated. I didn’t make bank or anything, but if it continues to grow, I might actually be able to pay my rent out of it.