It took me a second to think through this scenario. “If I believe there’s a reason behind it, one that will help them, then yes. I think so.”
“Huh.” He held my gaze in his, refusing to let me look away. “There are kids here who are gay and mayeven flirt with you. There are kids who have been prostitutes and have molested other children. What would you say if a boy came up to you and told you he was gay and asked if you would be interested in doing something with him?”
I flinched. Was he kidding? Did he think I was here to try to have sex with kids? What made him even consider such a possibility with me? Maybe I shouldn’t have said I was here tolovethe kids.
His eyebrows furrowed, taking in my startled expression, as he clarified. “Would you tell them they were going to Hell? Would you try to change them using the Bible?”
“Oh”—I realized where his questions were coming from—“because of where I went to school and my degree?”
“We’ve had several well-meaning people come in with the thought of saving all the kids and making them change their beliefs—outside their goals based on therapy, obviously. It has always been a very painful experience for the staff and the kids alike.”
I breathed out in a small amount of relief. “I understand. No, I doubt I’d feel the need to preach anything to the kids at all. I think how I’ll treat them will say more about God and love than anything I could say. And if a boy came up to me and told me he had a crush on me, I’d just tell him I’m an adult and his counselor, and a relationship like that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Very good.” He looked away for a second and then caught my eyes again. “And what if you walked in on them masturbating?”
I felt my face flush with heat. I wiped a hand over my mouth. “I guess I’d walk away and not say anything. I’d try to find someone to tell.” What the hell? Did he askeveryone these questions? Or did I have “child molester” scrawled across my forehead?
He relaxed more fully in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He opened his mouth to speak. Just then, someone knocked on the door and cracked it open. “Lester?” It was the pretty receptionist. “You’re needed upstairs. Do you have a second?”
“Of course, Linda. Be right there.” He glanced over to me. “I am sorry, please give me a moment, and I will be right back with you.”
He shut the door behind him, and I was alone again in the office. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t try to work with kids. I thought it would be better if I weren’t in a church. Apparently, it was the same everywhere. My mother had been right. I wouldn’t be allowed to work with kids.
What did this man see in me? There was no way he could know anything about my life. Maybe it was in the way I walked. Maybe in the color of tie I chose. Maybe my hair wasn’t messy enough.
I should just leave. Why wait around just to be told no? I got out of my chair and took my résumé off his desk. I reached out to the door handle. A candy crunched beneath my foot. Shit. After a second’s hesitation, I put the résumé back and bent down and resumed the task of picking up the pieces of candy. A brightly wrapped red candy had somehow managed to get lodged between the back leg of the desk and the wall. “Still at it, I see.” He motioned back to the seat I had occupied before. “You didn’t need to worry about those. Thank you, though.”
I gave him a sheepish grin and returned to my chair. I should’ve left. Candy be damned.
Lester remained standing, soaring over me to an even greater degree than before. “Things are really chaotic upstairs right now, and I need to be there to help. So, I’m sorry I have to wrap up so abruptly.”
“It’s okay, sir. I appreciate your time.” I began to stand up.
“Oh, please. Call me Lester. We’re not formal around here.”
I looked at him, baffled, but decided to go with it. “Okay, thanks, Lester.”
Lester held out his mammoth hand to me once again. “So, I was thinking of waiting until after the first of the year. That’s only two weeks or so away. A new year, a new beginning. Seems to make sense. Will that work for you?”
“Sir?”
He shook his head as I neglected to use his first name yet again, but smiled at me. “Just talk to Linda about what day you would like to start at the beginning of January. We’ll begin your training after that.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. That’ll work.” Shouldn’t I think about this first, or consider other offers? Not that I had tried for other offers. “Sure. January should be fine.” I placed my miniscule hand in his and let him shake it emphatically.
“Wonderful. I will look forward to seeing you in January,Brooklyn.” He grinned at the use of my full name. “Until then, have a great Christmas. Be careful out there tonight. I just glanced out the window, and the roads are looking bad.” With one final grasp of my hand, he turnedand walked out of his office, this time leaving the door open.
After confirming a start date for the eighth of January, I got into my car, put the key in the ignition, and just sat there. What had just happened? Had I really just accepted a job? What had Lester seen in me? What could possibly make him ask such bizarre, random questions? And if he really had those concerns, what would make him hire me? I’d worried about the questions I’d have to endure during an interview for a church, but I doubt any of them would have been about masturbation.
However, I was excited that I already had a job, and I wouldn’t have to stress about going to more interviews. Having the next couple of weeks off before I’d have to begin working was an added bonus.
His questions left me feeling confused and dirty for some reason. Was I so easy to see through? I prayed silently for some clarity and peace. As always, everything remained as it was; if anything, my emotions grew more intense. I turned the key, put the car in drive, and left the parking lot, heading downtown. There was more than one way to get a clear head.
Mymind still spinning from my interview, I ambled through the masses of the five o’clock crowd making their way along the sidewalks on Denver’s 16th Street Mall. The December breeze was biting and did little to soothe my nerves. I wrapped my copper-colored scarf tighter around my mouth and nose and buried my gloveless hands deep into the pockets of my coat. The sleet hittingmy face made it easy to block out the people around and continue obsessing over the implications of my interview.
As I turned right onto Welton Street, the breeze became a gale and caused me to close my eyes tight as I continued to move forward.
I collided into something. The strap of my workout bag slid off my shoulder, and the bag landed with a splash in a pool of dirty slush.
