Lesha told me I can ask for money orders.
No, I just have to get to a town, hide out, maybe in a women’s shelter or something, and try to set up some kind of life.
This job is a long shot, but I finish by explaining that if he would like to contact my references first (Lesha and one of my professors), he can get back to me, and we’ll work out the rest later.
OCTOBER 28TH, 2025
Pine Ridge, NY
SLEEP DEPRIVATION IStaking its toll. I’m starting to see things when I take Laurel to the park. People with green skin.
A man with a wolf’s head.
It’s almost Halloween, and the town really goes all out. That’s all.
Still, I don’t go out often, and I always keep Laurel covered up, the hood of her stroller hiding her face, booties over her teensy hooves.
I sit for a few minutes and watch a group of people decorating one of the floats for the Halloween parade. My pocket buzzes, and when I retrieve my phone, I groan.
It’s a message from that shady employment site. The fiftieth one in two days. I’ve been offered multi-level marketing deals, a chance to star in a porno, and six brides from various countries who would have to go through a long, laborious process to get over here.
I’m going to delete the ad, I decide, but I open the message anyway.
And stop.
Read. Re-read. Read again, heart curiously light.
This message doesn’t have a scammy tone to it, which makes me worry that it’s actually just an even bigger, better scam.
But the person, Imogene Sommer, sounds genuine. She sounds like she needs me as much as I need her, and she actually provided references.
Two references, both in New York!
I peep into the stroller. Laurel is content, watching the men with hammers and a giant pumpkin. “I’ll get you some books at the library. We’ll get an hour a day in, kiddo. Even if it’s just listening to boring stuff, I’ll be reading it out loud,” I murmur,rocking the stroller lightly because Laurel likes it when things bounce.
I call the reference listed first—Lesha.
“Hi. I’m calling about Imogene Sommer. She applied for a—well, for a live-in nanny position.” I cough, unsure if Imogene mentioned the title I gave my want ad.
Lesha gasps and sounds genuinely excited. “Oh! Oh, my gosh, hire her. She’s the nicest girl. Super smart. She will be an amazing nanny.”
“How do you know her?” I ask. “Have you ever seen her work with kids?”
There’s a second’s pause, but Lesha is just revving up. “Absolutely! She babysits for me all the time. I mean—not now. She’s in Alaska. But when she came for a visit, she babysat my kids. They love her. Aunt Immy, they call her. She’s so good with kids. Like, you don’t meet people with good, kind, genuine hearts like hers. And, frankly, she needs the job, and she’d work for a very reasonable price.”
Yeah. Essentially free. “My job is not for everyone. I can’t pay much, and my daughter has special needs. Do you know why she’d want to take this job? It’s also on the other side of the country from her. She says she’s in Alaska, and I’m in New York.”
There’s a thoughtful, enthusiastic humming, like someone revving up to tell a big story. That could mean Imogene has coached her pal really well, or else that this person is truly jazzed about her.
I think it’s the second one when Lesha starts speaking.
“First off, she’s a student at a university in New York—the online program. The tuition is free for two-year degrees for eligible students, so she’d probably love to be closer to the school, to some of her fellow classmates. And...”
“And she mentioned she’s in a hard spot, too. That she doesn’t have a loving family.”
“Damn, girl. Just putting it all out there,” Lesha sighs. “It’s true. She’s in a bad living situation. That doesn’t make her a bad person or an unsafe person. She’s one of the sweetest, kindest, and most sincere people I know. You won’t regret it—but you might regret it if you don’t, because you’re never going to find another person like her. She goes above and beyond in every class, with every response, with every—yeah, with everything she did with my kids.”
“Well. Thank you very much. That’s really informative.”
