Chapter Nineteen #2
I smiled at her sweet face. “Si, Mamá.” I let her go and shortly after dark, left the house, walking to the bus stop a block away.
I missed the Thunderbird and the easy freedom of jumping in my car whenever I liked.
I got on the bus, finding a spot right behind the driver.
The bus driver was talking to me and I hoped he didn’t remember me as he let me know how proud he was to be driving one of the brand-new electric buses which were introduced just last year.
“They’re clean and run on hydrogen fuel cell electricity, you know,” he said.
I made interested sounds, but hoped he wasn’t taking much notice of me, and finally, the bus stopped a block from the pet store. Since it was a really nice evening; I enjoyed the walk.
After paying for the same brand of birdseed Marcello had given me, I was leaving the store when I saw a poster asking for volunteers to work at the local animal shelter.
My heartrate sped up with excitement. Maybe if I was working nights as a volunteer, no one would ask me for my ID and it would be safe to do.
I grabbed a pen from the cashier and hurriedly wrote down the number.
Taking it back to her, I waited patiently for her to finish with her customer before asking if she knew where the shelter was.
“Oh, yes, actually. I’m getting ready to go into veterinary school, so I work there part-time.”
I looked at her nametag. “You work there, Stella?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m a tech…for now at least. That means I help the doctor who looks after the animals. Why do you ask?”
“I saw the paper for volunteers.” I pivoted to point it out to her. When I looked back, she was grinning.
“I put that up. Are you interested…?” She paused, and I realized I hadn’t introduced myself.
“Oh, sorry…I’m Cachi,” I said, deciding after a short hesitation, that using my first name would be okay.
I put out my hand and she shook it. She was friendly and seemed warm.
I figured that was important when you worked around animals who were often scared to death when they were living in a shelter.
“Cachi. That’s an unusual name.”
“I’m from Puerto Rico.”
“Ah, that explains the accent. Well, if you’re interested, I should tell you, it’s not a glamorous job.
You’d be cleaning cages and feeding animals…
and the open position is the night shift.
That doesn’t mean it couldn’t eventually become a day shift, but for now, that’s all we have.
I get off in about a half hour and also work the night shift at the shelter.
You can come with me, and I’ll have you fill out a volunteer job form if you like.
The lady who handles hiring doesn’t work nights, but I’ll put it on her desk so she sees it in the morning. ”
It seemed like fate when she said it was for the night shift. Surely this would be okay.
I grinned at her, nodding vigorously. “Oh, yes, Stella. I wait for you. Thank you so much.”
Another shopper walked up and she nodded before turning away to help her customer.
I wandered around the store, finally going into the fish room where there were tons of tanks set up to sell tropical fish.
I spent fifteen minutes watching the brightly colored neon tetras, betas, guppies, and angel fish darting around their tanks.
When I finally came out of the room, Stella was walking toward me wearing a wide smile and carrying her purse.
“You got lost in the fish room, right?” At my nod, she chuckled. “A lot of people look at the fish.”
“Si. I love them. They are so pretty.”
“Agreed. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, we go.”
She turned and started walking to the front door with her purse slung over her shoulder. “You can follow me with your car.”
“Oh, I no have it. I take the bus.”
“Oh, that’s fine then. You can come with me.”
“Thank you, Stella. I need job.”
She walked over to a Honda Civic, unlocking the door with her key fob. “Here we go.”
I got into the car and once we were in seatbelts, she looked over with her brow furrowed. “You understand that the job doesn’t pay, right? It’s a volunteer position.”
“Oh, yes, I understand this.”
She smiled and started the car. “Oh, good. I was worried.”
I hesitated. “I can’t get job…without papers.”
She glanced over. “But you’re Puerto Rican. You don’t even need a green card, do you? I thought Puerto Ricans were automatically born as U.S. citizens.”
Shit. “Yes, pero, I lost my social security card.” I shrugged. I hated lying to her but it was a safer bet than the truth.
“You don’t know your social security number?” She gave me a puzzled look.
“It’s um…complicated.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay. I get it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.
We have a few volunteers without papers.
Maria—the lady who’s the head volunteer—came here from Mexico thirty years ago.
She was an illegal alien for years before getting her green card.
She’ll understand. You just need to be honest with her. ”
I breathed a sigh of relief, thanking my lucky stars for running into Stella. “That’s good. Thank you, Stella.”
She smiled sweetly. “You’re a very nice person, Cachi. I’m sure you’ll be great with the animals.”
I sat back in the seat as she drove, feeling like I’d won the lottery.
Once we got to the shelter, I was surprised by how large it was.
They had two separate sides. One was for dogs and the other was for cats and other small animals.
They even had a cat room which was a large space set up with multiple cat trees, hideaways, and bookcases which the cats used as cubbies.
Some had more than one cat curled up, sleeping together. Probably littermates.
As Stella showed me around the shelter, she took me to the sick room.
“This is where I work with the doctor. We have a very sick, orange tabby kitten who has to be isolated which is why he’s here.
He was born with respiratory problems but with lots of care and love, he’ll hopefully recover enough to be put up for adoption very soon. ”
She smiled, and I was already a little in love with this place.
“Well, what do you think, Cachi? Would you like to be a volunteer here?” Stella asked after our tour finished.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” I really hoped the lady doing the hiring would accept my explanation about not being able to show ID.
She smiled, reaching out to shake my hand.
“Can you work tomorrow evening? We need someone to clean the cages. Volunteers start the night shift at nine. And, like I said, it’s not a fun job, but it’s a good one to get a volunteer started.
At least that way, you’ll know if you want to stay, since it is the dirtiest job in the shelter. ”
“I no care. I’m happy,” I said, giving her a big hug of thanks.
I decided to walk home; it wasn’t far from the shelter. I felt happier and more normal than I had in weeks.