newspaper’s personnel office. Filling out the application took mere minutes because they all seemed to be set up the same way, and she’d filled out so many in the past several days.
“Sit in one of those chairs,” said the assistant who’d handed her the app. “Mrs. Fellner will call you when she’s ready.”
Maria sat in a beige vinyl chair and waited, her fingers twisting like a nest of snakes. A few minutes later, Mrs. Fellner opened her office door and came out, reading the page her assistant had given her. She took a look at Maria and then went back to the application.
“You’re older than we usually get.”
“I’m reliable, too.”
“You understand this job means early hours? People want to read the news over their morning coffee.”
“I’ll be here whatever time you want me.”
“For your route, the papers are dropped at the corner of Oak and Lafayette at four forty-five. Let me see your license.”
Maria handed it over, even though the assistant had copied it and stapled the copy to the application.
“Be at Oak and Lafayette in the morning.” Mrs. Fellner passed her license back. “You know tomorrow’s Thanksgiving?”
Suddenly, she had plenty to be grateful for. “Uh-huh,” she said, too stunned to offer more eloquent thanks.
“The current delivery boy will show you your route. Stop at Lisa’s desk to finish your paperwork.”
“Thanks.” Maria offered her hand.
“Oh, yeah.” Mrs. Fellner, already on the way back to her office, came back. She pushed her glasses up her nose and finally looked Maria in the eye. Maria quaked with a touch of dread. But no. The other woman shook hands. “Good luck. Don’t make anyone call me because his paper’s late.”
“I’d pull them off the press myself, if I had to.”
“Y OU’LL BE FINE,” Tommy Laycock told her the next morning after he’d tossed a paper into the center of a little Cape Cod’s door.
“Nobody ever complains about you hitting their houses?” He had a precise arm and aim.
“Sometimes, the dogs fly out of the doggie doors and chase me down the street.” He patted the tufted console between them. “I don’t have me any cool wheels like this. I have a bike.”
“I may be looking for one soon.”
He heehawed with earsplitting spontaneity, but it was a welcome sound. “You’re lucky. We used to have to leave envelopes for payment. Some people even stiffed me once a week with that stupid envelope. Then, about eight months ago, the paper finally started billing them from the office.”
“So I don’t have to collect money.”
“Or break any arms.” He flexed his hands, gave his knuckles a quick crack.
“Why are you quitting, Tommy?” His personality seemed like such a fit.
“I joined the band and we practice in the morning before school. There’s a girl in my class. She plays thetuba. I’m not saying she looks good in that thing, but when she takes it off…”
“Never mind.” It was the last conversation she needed to have with a kid. “Thanks for showing me the houses.”
“You think you’ll remember?”
“Sure. I wrote them all down.” She dropped him back at Oak and Lafayette.
“Bye, Dr. Keaton,” he yelled as he unlocked his bike.
She waved, surprised he knew her name. For a second she was tempted to ask if Tommy knew Griff. Common sense rescued her in time. She didn’t need to know if the kid was all right. He was someone else’s problem now.
At home, she washed the ink off her hands and fell facefirst onto the sofa, sleeping for the first time in weeks as if she weren’t anxious about her next meal. A paper route didn’t go a long way toward security, but it was a crack in the door.
Later, as bright sunlight crept across the sky through her family room window, she opened her eyes. And licked her dry lips. She’d slept for hours.
Coffee. Coffee would start her second try at a morning well. Attempting a lousy whistle, she got busy, putting together her meager
“Sit in one of those chairs,” said the assistant who’d handed her the app. “Mrs. Fellner will call you when she’s ready.”
Maria sat in a beige vinyl chair and waited, her fingers twisting like a nest of snakes. A few minutes later, Mrs. Fellner opened her office door and came out, reading the page her assistant had given her. She took a look at Maria and then went back to the application.
“You’re older than we usually get.”
“I’m reliable, too.”
“You understand this job means early hours? People want to read the news over their morning coffee.”
“I’ll be here whatever time you want me.”
“For your route, the papers are dropped at the corner of Oak and Lafayette at four forty-five. Let me see your license.”
Maria handed it over, even though the assistant had copied it and stapled the copy to the application.
“Be at Oak and Lafayette in the morning.” Mrs. Fellner passed her license back. “You know tomorrow’s Thanksgiving?”
Suddenly, she had plenty to be grateful for. “Uh-huh,” she said, too stunned to offer more eloquent thanks.
“The current delivery boy will show you your route. Stop at Lisa’s desk to finish your paperwork.”
“Thanks.” Maria offered her hand.
“Oh, yeah.” Mrs. Fellner, already on the way back to her office, came back. She pushed her glasses up her nose and finally looked Maria in the eye. Maria quaked with a touch of dread. But no. The other woman shook hands. “Good luck. Don’t make anyone call me because his paper’s late.”
“I’d pull them off the press myself, if I had to.”
“Y OU’LL BE FINE,” Tommy Laycock told her the next morning after he’d tossed a paper into the center of a little Cape Cod’s door.
“Nobody ever complains about you hitting their houses?” He had a precise arm and aim.
“Sometimes, the dogs fly out of the doggie doors and chase me down the street.” He patted the tufted console between them. “I don’t have me any cool wheels like this. I have a bike.”
“I may be looking for one soon.”
He heehawed with earsplitting spontaneity, but it was a welcome sound. “You’re lucky. We used to have to leave envelopes for payment. Some people even stiffed me once a week with that stupid envelope. Then, about eight months ago, the paper finally started billing them from the office.”
“So I don’t have to collect money.”
“Or break any arms.” He flexed his hands, gave his knuckles a quick crack.
“Why are you quitting, Tommy?” His personality seemed like such a fit.
“I joined the band and we practice in the morning before school. There’s a girl in my class. She plays thetuba. I’m not saying she looks good in that thing, but when she takes it off…”
“Never mind.” It was the last conversation she needed to have with a kid. “Thanks for showing me the houses.”
“You think you’ll remember?”
“Sure. I wrote them all down.” She dropped him back at Oak and Lafayette.
“Bye, Dr. Keaton,” he yelled as he unlocked his bike.
She waved, surprised he knew her name. For a second she was tempted to ask if Tommy knew Griff. Common sense rescued her in time. She didn’t need to know if the kid was all right. He was someone else’s problem now.
At home, she washed the ink off her hands and fell facefirst onto the sofa, sleeping for the first time in weeks as if she weren’t anxious about her next meal. A paper route didn’t go a long way toward security, but it was a crack in the door.
Later, as bright sunlight crept across the sky through her family room window, she opened her eyes. And licked her dry lips. She’d slept for hours.
Coffee. Coffee would start her second try at a morning well. Attempting a lousy whistle, she got busy, putting together her meager
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