Save Me (The Me Novellas) (11 page)

Even though his eyes were on the road and all I saw was his profile, I could tell he was smiling.

“
Yeah.”

“
And did it help?” he asked as we took the on-ramp to the freeway.

“
Help?”

“
Put things in perspective.”

“
Oh.” I hesitated. “Yes. Absolutely.”

There were other cars on the freeway and I stared at their taillights, glowing red in the dark. They looked like rubies, weightless dancing rubies.

“
You wanna talk about it?”

And just like that first night, when he’d come into my room and asked if I’d wanted to elaborate on my living situation, I realized that I did. I wanted to talk about it. With him.

He listened as I told him about the job. Or rather, the lack of a job. I started to tell him about the SPAM conference and my parents connection to it, but changed my mind. I didn’t need to complicate the story any further. Or have him realize I was related to such insane people.

“
Wow,” he said. “I guess that sorta warrants the reaction you had.”

“
The hour-long tear fest?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“
You knew?”

“
It was kind of hard not to,” he admitted. “Pretty sure the neighbors would have heard you, too. If they’d been home.”

I groaned. “I didn’t know you were there! The house was quiet.”

“
I was reading, Kat.” He paused. “You know, like in my head. Not out loud. It’s pretty common to do that kind of thing quietly.”

Despite my mortification, I smiled. And giggled. “Yeah. I guess.”

“
Anyway, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “You had a shitty day. Hell, you’ve had a stretch of some pretty shitty days. I think you deserved your tear fest.”

“
Thanks.”

“
But now you need to refocus,” he said. We’d pulled off the freeway and were making our way through the maze of neighborhood streets. The streetlights were dim, the newly budded trees casting shadows on the road in front of us.

“
On
…
?”

“
On how to fix things.” He flicked his blinker on and made a quick left. Our street.

“
I know,” I said quickly. “Trust me, I’ll be able to pay next month’s rent.”

He turned to look at me, a frown on his face. “That is
not
what I’m talking about.”

“
Okayyy.”

“
I meant bigger things. Job, for one. Something for you to do in the here and now so you can feel self-sufficient.”

I knew exactly what he meant. I hated being in the position to ask for things—from my parents, from Dani, from Ben. From anyone, really.

“
But more than that,” he said. We’d pulled into the driveway and he turned off the engine. “You’re graduating from college. Not high school, you know?”

“
I know.”

“
So you need to find something that’s gonna make you happy.”

I started to protest that I didn’t know what that was going to be but he held up his hand.

“
It’s alright if you don’t know,” he said. “Remember? I graduated two years ago and look where I’m at. Bar tending. Pouring booze for drunks is not the high point of my life.”

“
But you’re working toward your masters,” I said. “You have a goal. What you want to do.”

“
I know,” he said. We walked to the house together, our pace as brisk as the wind that nipped at our cheeks. “But I didn’t have a clue two years ago. I was exactly where you’re at, Kat. A degree, yeah. But no job. No direction.”

“
But you found it.” I was pretty sure the only thing I was going to find was a job flipping burgers. And I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to make me happy.

Dylan unlocked the front door and we stepped into the foyer. The heat from the house wrapped around me and I unzipped my jacket.

“
You’ll find yours, too,” he said. “You just need to look.”

He started to say more but then stopped. Instead, he reached out and gathered me into a hug. His arms were warm and strong and I felt myself molding my body against his, snaking my arms around his shoulders.

“
I’m here if you need me,” he said, his mouth against my hair. He squeezed me tight one last time before stepping back.

I watched him walk up the stairs to his level of the house and all I could think of was one thing.

I hadn’t wanted him to let me go.

FIFTEEN

It was Friday morning and, more than a job, I needed a date.

Dani and Ron had decided to throw an impromptu engagement party. The catch? It was at a ballroom dancing place. And it was on Saturday night.

When she told me on Tuesday, I’d groaned in despair. Out loud. And loudly.

“
Why on earth are you having an engagement party at a dance studio?” I asked, banging my head against the desk. I had finished my last paper for my Comparative Lit class and was basically counting down the days until graduation.

I’d also had no success on the job front. With Dylan’s help, I threw together a few different resumes and sent them out. I’d also, at Dani’s insistence, scheduled an appointment at A+ Temps the following Monday. My three-fingered typing might be needed somewhere. Like the amputee society.

“
Oh, these kinds of thing are all the rage,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “I read about it in last month’s Bride magazine.”

I was ready to burn the entire stack of Bride magazines.

“
OK. Fine,” I said. “But why now? I mean, the wedding is over six months away.”

They’d picked December 7
th
for the big day. My comment that this was also Pearl Harbor Day, one of the biggest military disasters in American history, was met with blank stares. I’d bit my lip and refrained from further comment.

“
They fill up quickly,” she told me. The line buzzed. “Hang on a minute. It’s Ron.”

I held.

“
OK,” she said. “He needs me to stop at the grocery store. Toilet paper.” She said this out loud, as if she was making a mental note for herself.

“
OK,” I said. I was anxious to get the image of Ron on the toilet, waiting for toilet paper, out of my head. I redirected back to the conversation at hand. “Engagement party. This week. Why?”

“
Well, they do fill up quickly,” she said. “They’re booked solid through the summer months. And Ron will be busy, too. It’s high season for him.”

Yes. There were precious few months in Minnesota where one could actually ride a bicycle without sliding on snow or ice so I knew the summer was busy for him.

“
And I don’t want you to repeat this to anyone,” Dani said, lowering her voice a little. “But
…
he could really use the practice.”

“
Ron?”

“
Yes. He’s not much of a dancer.”

I sighed. “OK. Fine. Engagement party Saturday night. Check. Wear shoes that I won’t kill myself in. Check.”

“
And bring a date.”

“
A what??”

“
A date. I mean, you can dance with one of the instructors, but if you could bring someone
…
” her voice trailed off.

“
Dani? I know you’re getting married and you’ve been a little preoccupied. Totally get that. But aren’t you forgetting something?
I don’t have a boyfriend
.”

No, I know,” she said quickly. “I just thought maybe you could bring one of your roommates. What’s his name? Andy?”

No, I could not bring Andy. Not unless I wanted to bring Meg, too. Which would still leave me partner-less.

“
No,” I said firmly.

“
OK,” she said, thinking. “I could ask one of Ron’s friends–”

I cut her off. “Never mind. I’ll think of something.”

“
Are you sure? I think we could talk to Gerald. Do you remember him? He lost his ear in that car accident, but he’s super nice and can be funny. Sometimes. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

I cringed. Dear God, no.

“
Nope. I’m good,” I said, as brightly as I could manage.

She’s your best friend, she’s your best friend, I kept telling myself.

“
I’ll find someone. I promise.”

“
Perfect!”

I hung up.

“
Is there another tear-fest coming on? Should I break out the headphones now?”

Dylan was in my open doorway, grinning. He had a Gophers shirt on and a matching baseball cap. On backwards. I looked away.

“
Hey,” I said.

“
Hey yourself.” He waited in the doorway.

“
What’s up?”

“
Well,” he said. “I have some news.”

I picked up stuff laying on my desk—pens and pencils, stray paper clips—and stowed them in the top drawer. “What kind of news?”

He took a step into my room. “It’s actually about a job.”

“
You got a job?” I smiled wide.

He started to speak but I cut him off. “Really? A job? That’s awesome! Congratulations!”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. Can you just listen? Like, for a minute?”

I waited.

“
I meant a job for you.”

“
For me?” I knew nothing about bar tending. Still, I was flattered that he’d thought of me, that he’d taken the time to put in a good word for me at The Ale House.

“
Yes,” he said. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“
I don’t know the first thing about bar tending,” I told him.

He helped himself to my bed. He sat down and cradled his head in his hands. “Who the hell said anything about bar tending?”

“
I don’t know
…
” My voice trailed off. “I just thought
…
”

He looked up. “Not bar tending. A real job.”

“
Okayyy.”

“
So I went in to DSS yesterday,” he said. “Not to volunteer but to drop off some case files. I have a mentor in my grad program. Andrea. Anyway, I review case files and do write-ups and she looks at them. Offers advice.”

“
OK.”

“
So I stayed for a bit,” he said. “Just chatted with some of the folks there.”

“
The kids?” I asked. “How is everyone?”

I could picture several of them. Maria, the dark-haired kindergartner with the gap-toothed smile. Neveah, with skin the color of chocolate and midnight black eyes, who sat curled in my lap as I read book after book. Jerome. Aidan. There were so many.

“
They’re fine,” he said. “But I was talking about the social workers. The director. They asked about you.”

“
They did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. The kids liked you. A lot. And when they like someone, they talk about them. A lot.”

I felt the heat in my cheeks and I felt the heat in my heart, too. It felt good, knowing I’d made a good impression on those kids. Knowing they’d liked me.

“
Anyway, there’s a position open. In their summer daycare program there.” He studied me, waiting for my reaction. “They wanted to know if you’d be interested. It’s full-time during the summer. If you like it and they like you, they’ll transition you into the after-school program during the Fall. The pay is decent—$14 an hour.”

I think I gasped out loud. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “It’s good money, Kat. And it’ll get your foot in the door. Expose you to some new stuff. New experiences.”

I felt my eyes moisten. He was right. It was exactly the answer I was looking for. A full-time job. A chance to try something new.

“
But I don’t have a teaching degree.”

“
You don’t need one.”

“
And I’ve never worked with kids.”

“
Yes, you have,” he said. “Last week.”

I drummed my fingers on the desktop. It was a habit I hated in everyone else but I couldn't help myself. “Do you think they’d hire me?”

“
I know they would,” he said firmly. “They want you, Kat. The job is yours. If you want it.”

And I did. More than anything, I wanted that job.