I stare at the ad. Columbia University area. The words conjure an image of solid brownstones, oak trees, intellectualcalm. A world away from the frantic, creative scramble of the East Village. A place where people had families and routines and, presumably, a working knowledge of child development.
“What would I even do with a four-year-old forninehours?”
“I don’t know, color? Read books? Go to the park?” Cori shrugs. “You’d figure it out. That’s basically what the job is, just figuring it out as you go.”
“What if she hates me?”
“What if she doesn’t? Annie.” She taps the ad with one finger, her nails painted a dark purple that somehow manages to look both elegant and a little bit punk. “You’re running out of money. I know you haven’t said it but I can tell, and this guy is offering ten dollars an hour for childcare, which honestly seems a little desperate to me.”
“That doesn’t exactly instill confidence, Cori.”
“No, but think about it. If he’s desperate enough to offer that sort of money, he’s probably more willing to take a chance on someone without experience.” She grins at me, a smile that makes her whole face light up. “Someone exactly like you, who is very, very good at showing up with no idea what she’s doing.”
She’s not wrong. I am desperate, and I do need money, and nine hours a day might not actually be as terrible as it seems in my head. Maybe.
“I don’t know anything about kids,” I say again, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.
“So you’ll learn. You spent three days learning how to make hospital corners for that hotel job you didn’t even end up getting.”
“That’s completely different.”
“How?”
I don’t have a good answer for that. On the TV, Rachel’s crying about something—her job, maybe, or Ross, it’s hard to tell—and Monica’s hugging her.
“What if I’m absolutely terrible at it?” I ask quietly, and Cori looks at me for a long moment, really looks at me.
Cori’s gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching. “Then you’ll be terribly employed. You’ll fail while making the rent. That’s a luxury you don’t have right now.”
Despite everything, I laugh. She has a point.
I pick up the ad again, the paper thin and already smudged with newsprint from where we’ve been handling it. Maybe I could actually do it. Maybe I could figure out how to keep one four-year-old alive and reasonably entertained five days a week. Maybe I’m not completely useless.
“You should call him,” Cori says.
“Right now?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s—” I glance at the VCR clock blinking green numbers in the corner. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“That’s not that late, especially not for New York. And if this guy is desperate enough to be offering fifteen dollars an hour, he’s probably still awake, probably sitting by the phone hoping someone—anyone—will call.” She fetches the cordless phone from its cradle, its antenna extended like a tiny, hopeful flag.“Come on. Worst case scenario, he doesn’t answer and you leave a message.”
Worst case scenario, I sound like a complete idiot and he never calls me back and I add it to my growing collection of failures in this city, this place that was supposed to be my fresh start and instead feels more and more like evidence that I don’t actually know how to do anything useful.
But best case scenario—best case scenario I get a job, I make rent next month, I stop lying awake at three in the morning doing calculations in my head about how long I can stretch two thousand dollars if I only eat one meal a day.
I take the phone from her.
“Okay.” My heart’s beating too fast, that fluttery panic feeling I get before interviews. “Okay, I’m doing it.”
Cori grins and takes another bite of lo mein. “That’s my girl.”
I dial the number before I can change my mind, my finger shaking slightly as I press each button. The phone rings on the other end and I count them without meaning to. Once. Twice. Three times. Maybe he’s not home. Maybe I’ll just get an answering machine and I can leave a message and buy myself some time to actually figure out what I’m going to say—
“Hello?”
His voice is deep and a little rough around the edges, like maybe I’ve interrupted him in the middle of something or maybe that’s just how he sounds. For a second I can’t make my mouth work, like my brain has completely disconnected from my body.
