Chapter Thirteen
I haven’t had much one-on-one contact with Jenny, a fortysomething white transplant from Kentucky, aside from my interview, but she seems fair.
She doesn’t complain about the occasional personal call at work or chatting when the floor is quiet.
She’ll either tell me there’s some wiggle room for additional hours or there’s not.
She won’t fire me for asking. With that silent pep talk out of the way, I knock on her door.
She looks up and jerks her head back in surprise, her long brown curls swaying with the movement. This is to be expected since I’ve never come by her office before without being summoned, and even that’s only happened once or twice. “Everything okay, Sabrina?”
“Do you have a minute?”
She tells me to sit, except there’s only one chair and an enormous box of books is taking up all the seat space. I chew my lip. Do I remove it? Try to squeeze in next to it? Sit on top of it? I try lifting it first. “ Umph .” It doesn’t budge.
Jenny chuckles. “Sorry about the box. Someone left it there this morning and I haven’t had time to do anything with it except confirm it’s too heavy to relocate without the help of a bodybuilder.”
“No problem.” I sit with three quarters of my butt dangling off the seat.
“What can I do for you?” she asks with a slight Southern drawl.
I take a calming breath. The only way to guarantee failure is to not even try. “I was wondering if there was any way I could take on more hours.”
Her eyebrows draw closer. “You’re working while studying for your master’s, right?”
“Yes. That’s kind of why I need more hours.
Living expenses combined with paying interest on my student loans, well, it isn’t cheap.
” I technically don’t need to start making payments until six months after I graduate, but my mom urged me to start earlier to lower the total cost. She’s the budgeting wizard; I just do what she says.
Jenny’s brown eyes soften, and she nods in understanding.
“I remember. I just finished paying off my loans a few years ago. The cost of living here… well, let’s just say I could buy a four-bedroom house back home in Kentucky for what I’m paying for my two-bedroom rental here in Park Slope.
” She exhales deeply as if it’s something that keeps her up at night. “How many hours are you working now?”
“Approximately fifteen a week.”
Jenny taps her pen along the scratched wooden desk, the diamonds from her engagement and wedding rings sparkling. “Hmm. You might just be in luck. Nancy gave her notice.”
My eyes widen. “She did?” Nancy is one of the branch’s two part-time library assistants.
She focuses mostly on youth services but sometimes assists Gabe in adult as well, much to his displeasure.
“I had no idea.” Clearly, Gabe didn’t either, or he’d be dancing down the library aisles.
He can’t stand her for featuring mostly books by white cis male authors on her displays and consistently misgendering Lane.
I’m not a fan either but try to avoid drama at work.
“It’s only been a few days. I figured she’d tell everyone herself… or not.” She wrinkles her pixie nose. “I know there’s some tension between y’all. Anyway, I haven’t had a chance to go through regular channels about her replacement, but would you be interested?”
I don’t need to think about it. “Yes!”
Jenny smiles. “That was easy. I’d need to formally interview you, but you have my support. It’s twenty hours a week with a small bump in salary.” She leans forward. “Part-time still, so no benefits.”
I nod. This is fine since I’m still on my mom’s health insurance.
“You’d have more direct contact with patrons and be involved in programming, creating displays, et cetera.
But you’d also be expected to assist with circulation generally.
It’s a natural progression from page given your intention to stay within the library system after graduation. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“I know I would!”
“Nancy’s here another week and then we’d need you Monday through Saturday, at least until we find your replacement. But we can still work with your school schedule. Most of your classes are in the evenings, right?”
“I have one late afternoon class two days a week but otherwise, yes.” My other class is in the evening after the library closes.
I itch to do a victory lap around the floor.
A promotion doesn’t make up for missing out on the fellowship money, but from a professional standpoint, it’s even better.
I wonder but don’t ask if Jenny would have offered it to me rather than putting out a formal ad if I hadn’t requested more hours. It feels like fate, so why question it?
We schedule the formal interview for the following day, I thank her again, then go find Gabe.
After I sum up my conversation with Jenny, he plays it cool on the floor but then drags me outside onto the street, into the cold, and yells, “Fuck yes. Fuck yes !” before calmly walking back inside completely composed.
I accuse him of being happier about Nancy leaving than my hopeful promotion, but he insists he’s equally thrilled about both.
I don’t believe him, but it doesn’t matter.
After work, I head to school, where I find it hard to contain my toothy grin.
It’s one of those days where the air is sweeter and the future looks bright.
I’m pausing to hold doors open for people, looking for reasons to offer up my seat on the subway, and stopping to give tourists directions.
With Jenny’s support, and assuming I don’t fuck up the interview, I’m getting a promotion!
The possibility didn’t cross my mind when I woke up this morning.
It wasn’t on my radar at all. I assumed I’d hold the lowest position at the library at least until I graduated, and I was fine with that.
It was a job at a library , my favorite place since I was a little girl and got lost in the latest of the Avalon High or Gallagher Girls series while Nana hunted down new books by Jennifer Weiner and Eileen Goudge.
And now I was climbing my way up the ranks and making more money to boot.
I’m still drunk on happiness when I get home. Adam and Marcia are in the kitchen, side by side with their backs to me at the breakfast nook with a laptop on the counter between them.
“What are you guys up to?”
They both jolt at the sound of my voice, their shoulders lifting slightly and heads swinging to the right like a choreographed dance. I smile at their identical reactions. Genetics.
“Nothing much. What’s up?” Adam swivels his stool and lowers the laptop cover before facing me again. “How was your day?”
“Yes, how was work and school?” Marcia asks.
Adam’s smile is a little too bright to be real and Marcia is wringing her hands nervously.
It’s cagey, but nothing can mess with my mood right now.
“It was excellent! I’m up for a promotion at work!
” It’s been about ten hours since my conversation with Jenny, and I still can’t keep the exclamation point out of my voice.
“My interview is tomorrow, but my boss says it’s basically a formality. ”
Marcia’s mouth drops open in sync with her eyes widening to full moons. “That’s wonderful, Sabrina!” She stands and hugs me. “I’m so proud of you.”
My chest swells as I squeeze her back. I’m almost as thrilled to make her proud as I am about the promotion itself. “Thank you!” I work to relax my jaw from its permanent smile.
“Congratulations!”
I separate from Marcia and beam at Adam. “Thanks!”
He extends his hand. I instinctively take it, not knowing where this is going, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s pulled me to him, squeezing me like a papa bear.
“Oh! Um. Thank you!” I murmur into his chest while breathing in his Cremo Pacific Sea Salt and Grapefruit exfoliating bodywash.
I squeeze him back while also running my hands up and down his strong back because…
hello muscles! The hug is over all too soon, and when he pulls away, I feel the absence of his touch.
“Hopefully, you feel better about missing out on the scholarship now,” he says.
I smile softly. “I do.”
Marcia beams between us. “When a door closes, a window opens.”
I nod enthusiastically. “I need to text Carley and call my mom!”
“They’ll be delighted. Go and come back with details when you’re finished,” Marcia says.
I tell her I will before heading to my room. I’ve barely taken five steps when I overhear Marcia hiss, “How are we going to fix this?”
“I don’t know. Let me think,” Adam says.
I backtrack to the kitchen. “Fix what?”
Marcia blinks rapidly. “Nothing.”
Adam dips his head.
Cagey.
“Spill,” I demand, but then my stomach knots. What if this is a personal family matter? I swallow hard. “Never mind. It’s probably none of my business.”
“It’s not that. We’re just in a bit of a pickle, but we’ll figure it out, right, Adam?”
“Uh…” Adam shrugs weakly and rubs the back of his neck. “Sure?”
A swarm of butterflies takes flight in my belly. “You’re making me nervous. Please put me out of my misery.”
Marcia slides into a chair at the table. “I’m locked out of my banking website.”
I let out a breath of relief. “That’s it? What happened?”
She darts her eyes to Adam, who leans against the island looking guilty.
“I wanted to transfer money to my IRA but forgot my password. Adam told me to click ‘reset your password,’ which sounded simple at the time, until I answered the security question wrong three times and I got locked out.” She scrubs a hand down her face.
“Why did I think the name of my first-grade teacher was a good security question? It’s been sixty-five years! ”
“Why didn’t you just look up your password or wait for me to help you?”
She pushes out her lips. “I figured you’d be tired from working and school. Adam volunteered to help.”
“Oh he did, did he?” I level my eyes at him with a hand on my hip. Not this again.
He grimaces. “I was only trying to be helpful.” In a lower voice, he adds, “No other reason, I swear.” He raises his palms. “But I fucked up.”
I chuckle. “First of all, calm down.” I glance between them. “I can fix this. Hand me the laptop.”
He does, and I sit down at the table with both of them on either side of me.
Within a minute, I’m on the phone with the bank.
Within five minutes, Marcia has verified her identity and her account has been restored.
Ten minutes later, her password manager has been updated.
I log out of her computer and lower the lid.
“In the future, just wait for me to get home, okay?”
Marcia slides her chair closer to me and gives me a one-arm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
I make a gloating face at Adam, but he looks so sheepish, I burst into laughter. “I’m sure you are great at many things, but please leave the computer stuff to me. Okay, boomer?”
He chuckles. “Lesson learned.”
I stand, prepared to go to my room and finally share the news about my promotion with my mom and Carley.
Before I go, I say, “If you want to be useful with all the free time on your hands, my library will be looking for a page to replace me. Maybe you should apply for the job.” I imagine Adam discovering a PB&J sandwich inside a book and repress a laugh.
Since this is obviously a joke, I’m not at all prepared for his next words.
“Actually, I like that idea a lot. How do I do that?”