Hadrian's Wall (12 page)

We were leaving New Hampshire whose motto is
“Live Free or Die.” In my case, it was more like “Get a job or
die.” I never imagined that my hometown would become “foreign” to
me. What happened to the good times of my life there? Would I
remember anything or nothing at all? On the other hand, I expected
to leave the bitterness behind.

It was easy to talk with
Bob. He was so open about his own life that I soon found myself
telling him excerpts of my personal episodes of
Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate
Events
. He sincerely regretted my bad luck
and then made a totally unexpected offer.

“I’ve got an idea! My sister Carmen works in
the personnel section of a department store in South Portland.
Maybe she can help find a job for you? Maybe she can find room for
you in her apartment. We’ll stop and see her. It costs nothing to
take a chance.”

I was speechless.

“What?” He laughed at the look on my face.
“Miracles happen, Melissa. Maybe the man upstairs sent me your way
today.”

“Yes...who knows?” I answered, but feeling
skeptical.

I was always wary of sudden offers because
they never occurred spontaneously or unselfishly—except those from
Mrs. Jones, who over time had proven herself to have good
intentions. I hoped the same would be true with respect to Bob. In
this case, time would be the judge. I didn’t want to repeat the bad
luck I’d had with the Jones family. If Carmen was as psycho as
Jennifer...well, I couldn’t bear another experience like that.

“...worst case scenario,” Bob was saying,
“If there’s no place for you in the store or with my sister,
Portland has other opportunities. I know some guys...they know
other guys...” He was laughing. “...who work for other guys. These
guys own bars and restaurants. It’s an area that always needs
waiters and waitresses, especially in the summer season.”

“Well...” I laughed too. “It would be great
if ‘the guys’ would give me a hand.”

We stopped a few times along the route to
make the Bob’s deliveries. I seized the opportunity to get out of
the truck and stretch my legs. Not long after we left Gorham, Bob
figured out why I didn’t go into the roadside cafes with him, when
he stopped to get a bite to eat. I told him I wasn’t hungry, but I
guess I wasn’t very convincing because just outside of Norway, when
I gave him the same excuse, then ducked into the restroom, he
brought me a hamburger and refused to accept repayment.

“Just eat it! If you pass out from
starvation and the police stop me, they’ll think I’m a serial
killer and you’re my latest victim. Girl, with your face, they’ll
think that I grabbed you out of a schoolhouse. Oh, I can see it
now!” He pantomimed with his thumb and forefinger. “Bang! Bang!
They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

I laughed. The way he put things, it
wouldn’t be impossible. I didn’t want to be responsible for a
tragedy like that, so I decided to eat the hamburger.

Later, as we crossed the state line between
New Hampshire and Maine, whose official state motto—“Dirigo”—seemed
very promising, it all started to make sense. I realized that I was
taking the reins of my destiny. The fact that Maine’s official
insect—the bee—was a good omen. I once read on the Internet that
the Greek origin of my name meant something like “bee produces
honey.” It was a sign.

When I was a little girl, my father always
told me to be alert to the slightest signs because they were “tips
of destiny.”

* * *

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must
have slept for quite a while. I woke up just as the lights of South
Portland appeared in the truck’s windshield. Night was
falling...

“Hey, sleepyhead! Did you get a little
rest?”

I covered a yawn with my fist. The gesture
made me more aware of the painful calluses on my fingers.

“I had no idea I was so tired,” I said.

He laughed and said something that I had not
picked up on about the picturesque region of South Portland. He was
driving to a periphery neighborhood where his sister lived.

“I’m worried that I’ve caused you to take a
long detour away from your usual route just to help me.”

His response was a brushing away gesture.
“Not at all! I intended to spend the night at Carmen’s apartment to
save money. I’ll be moving on to Nova Scotia tomorrow.”

“Oh, so your final stop is not Augusta...” I
was discouraged at the thought that I was going to lose the first
friendship that I’d made since leaving the orphanage.

“Yes, but I’ll pass through
here on my way back to see how you’re doing in your new life,” he
said sincerely. He seemed like an older brother and I liked it very
much. However, that tiny inner voice reminded me that it wasn’t
good for me to become emotionally dependent on anyone no matter how
needy I was because one day, people will leave and I’ll
be alone...again.

We arrived at Carmen’s house when only a
trace of purple light was visible on the horizon. It was almost
completely dark. I could see very little of the city, but the
little I saw was very beautiful. Green spaces were interspersed
between urban, becoming denser the closer they were to the forest.
The neighborhood was nestled in a hollow between two small hills
and the sea. It was cozy and clean. I was absolutely blown
away!

Carmen received her brother joyfully and did
not seem surprised or upset to see me with him. She was very
young...maybe three years older than me. She lived in a small
apartment above a busy cafe. Bob told me that her place a rental,
but it was very practical because it was near Carmen’s
workplace.

He quickly introduced us and then insisted
on carrying my suitcase inside. I had the perverse
satisfaction—secretly, of course—of seeing a guy his size having
difficulty dealing with my suitcase’s temperamental wheels. That
would mean that I was not a weakling after all! A little
breathless, he reached the first floor.

To my embarrassment, Bob got straight to the
point about my sad situation. Carmen did not speak while her
brother explained everything. She nodded occasionally, interrupting
only to invite us to share her dinner, which consisted of a hearty
soup and homemade bread. I began to imagine that she was looking
for a polite way of saying she could not help me, but she surprised
me.

“Sure! It will be easy to find a position
for Melissa. The store always needs staff, especially with
cleaning.” She looked at me, suddenly worried. “That is, if you
don’t mind doing that kind of work. It’s hard work.” In that
moment, it seemed to me that both of them looked at me, evaluating
my physical condition.

Please!
Like I’d never wielded a broom before? Do they
think I’m made of plastic?

I hurried to answer before she misunderstood
my confusion. “Of course I don’t mind. I’m not afraid to work,
Carmen. All I want is an opportunity.”

Satisfied, Carmen smiled and then turned to
face her brother.

“Great! Problem solved!”

Carmen was single, but had an extra room for
when her brother appeared between his trips. Although Bob lived in
Vermont with his wife and two children, he frequently drove the
route that took him to Portland, Maine.

They both decided that I would stay in the
extra bedroom and this time, Bob would sleep on the couch. I
protested because I felt guilty. They had both been so kind to me,
while I was just an unexpected inconvenience that had appeared in
their lives. It was not fair to change their routine because of me.
Bob must have been exhausted, but wanted me to be comfortable. “But
I can sleep on the couch,” I said. Upon seeing their frowns, I
thought it was better to shut up.

I enjoyed the second decent shower I’d taken
since I left the orphanage. I sighed with relief, completely
relaxed, not wanting to leave the shower, but it wasn’t cool that I
use all the hot water. I was the guest, so reluctantly I turned off
the faucet and got out.

I peeked in the bathroom mirror and did a
quick review of my pathetic face. I seemed less downcast. The dark
circles were softer, my cheeks were flush, and my eyes didn’t look
so tired. Who would ever believe that just yesterday, I was a
desperate person with no prospects. Now, with a stroke of luck, a
path had been cleared for me.

I had a wonderful night’s sleep. The
mattress was comfortable and the pillows smelled like flowers. I
woke up the next morning with a vague remembrance of a clearing
bathed in moonlight where there was an enormous mirrored lake.

I had read enough about dreams and
hallucinations to know that the memory of a dream could be more a
manifestation of a desire than the result of repressed emotions and
day-to-day experiences. So, did this mean that I was dying to find
a lake? No big deal!

Bob left before dawn. I regretted not having
the opportunity to say goodbye, but he left me a note, wishing me
good luck!

After breakfast, I helped with the dishes. I
was elated. I think Carmen realized this and did her chores quickly
so that we could leave early. Thus, she would have time to show me
a little of the neighborhood.

We crossed the block
without hurrying. The day was perfect for walking.
A perfect day!
Carmen
gestured all the time, pointing out the sights, including the
beach. I was fascinated! However, I knew that all I’d see tomorrow
would be the inside of the department store.

* * *

The store was not as large as those I’d seen
on television, but it seemed majestic, especially for a girl like
me who knew nothing of life beyond Coos. I remembered two of the
‘80s comedies whose settings were department stores.

It
was still closed when we arrived, but there was activity going
on as employees were stocking the shelves and arranging the
merchandise before customers arrived. Some looked at me with
obvious curiosity, while others didn’t notice me at all. Carmen
asked me to present myself to the head of the cleaning crew,
delivering to her the note that Carmen had written as head of the
personnel department. I took the note and off I went.

I was still looking for the elevator when I
saw an employee standing in an open area, admiring his own image
which was being broadcast on a big TV screen. When he saw me
standing next to him, he asked me to stand in his place. Although
somewhat confused, I agreed. I honestly thought he was crazy. Soon
my face appeared on the big screen. The recording device oscillated
from the young man to me and then finally settled on me. I was
amazed to see my own image.

The young man explained that he was
adjusting the webcam on the computer to capture images of customers
and display them on the TV screen. That’s when I realized I was
being filmed by a tiny camera. The young man thanked me for my help
and offered to take me to the elevator.

“By the way, my name is Stanley Marsh, but
you can call me Stan.”

“Melissa Baker.”

“Nice to meet you, Mel.” He shook my hand
vigorously. “Can I call you Mel?”

Why do people feel compelled to abbreviate
my name? Well, I knew it sounded impolite to correct them all the
time, so to avoid any problems, I gave up trying long ago.

“Sure.” I shrugged.

We talked a bit while I waited for the
elevator. I promised to return to the electronics department later
to tell him about my first day of work.

Following Stan’s directions, I easily found
the cleaning department office. The nameplate on the door confirmed
that I was in the right place. I felt a pang in the pit of my
stomach, silently hoping that the woman would like me enough to
give me a job. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door
hesitantly. I heard an almost inaudible “Come in,” so I put on my
best smile and entered.

I approached the desk,
which had obviously seen better days. The woman sitting at the desk
didn’t return my smile. Her expressionless face just evaluated
me—more like
dissected me!
Mmmm... this is not a good sign.

After reading Carmen’s note, the woman told
me to go into the locker room next door to her office, find a
uniform, and put it on. She told me to choose one that fit me and
then give her my measurements so that she could give me an extra
one.

I went to the locker room
without really knowing what to expect, but do you know what?
Honestly, I loved my uniform! It was blue...a lighter shade on a
darker shade. It was brand new, very clean, and stylish.
Since when do you know anything about fashion,
girl?

I defended myself, mentally arguing that at
least I tried to get interested in the subject. After all, fashion
is an expression of art too, even if directed to a particular
market—like movies and books are, but that was not the point here.
For someone who had always worn clothes donated by others—mended,
worn, and most often the wrong size, this uniform was the height of
elegance...and it was my first brand new outfit.

My new boss found me in the locker room and
looked at my sneakers—the only pair of shoes I had that didn’t hurt
my feet.

“You don’t have a pair of black moccasins or
ballet flats?” she asked with obvious annoyance.

I thought about my black
ballet flats with the hole in the right sole...
the
ballet flats that almost killed
me...

“I don’t.”

She sighed. “We’ll have to get you a
standard pair of shoes.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment I
thought I’d be in trouble because of my shoes. The woman appeared
to be like those leaders who pride themselves on “going by the
book.” As if to prove my analysis, she told me to put my hair in a
bun and tuck it underneath the blue cap. I didn’t know to make a
bun or braid hair or any more elaborate hairstyle, so I improvised
a ponytail and wrapped it around the elastic.