“To provide for my daughter,” Maeda declared, “I need a job to do that.”
“Beyond that. What do you want to do? I know most people view Lucky Lanes as a jumping off point, and that’s okay. I want to help in any way I can. You used to want to be an author,” I cleared my throat. Was it weird that I remembered that? “Is that still something you’re interested in?”
Maeda nodded. “Yes, but it’s a long slow process. As I said, taking care of my daughter comes first.”
“I didn’t know you were a parent,” came out of my mouth before I could stop it, but I recovered, “There are a lot of skills you could put on your resume from that.” I ran my hand through my thick wavy hair. “I see you have hereWriting Degree in Progress. Where are you going to school? Can you send me your class schedule so I can schedule you appropriately?”
“My program is asynchronous and entirely online. I do my schoolwork whenever I can.” I was curious as to who Maeda has become over the years. Maeda shrugged. “It’s stable.”
I looked over the other aspects of her resume. “Well, you have your caretaker role for your grandma on here from nine years ago. That’s good. And, you worked on-campus in the bookstore until…” I trailed off as I looked at the year.
Maeda was staring at the computer screen. “Until the last time we talked, yeah.”
My heart twisted at the memory.
That night when everything went wrong…
When she left…
“I just want to say,” she started.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I said. “The past is the past. It’s nothing.” If we started talking about it, it would bring up all the old feelings I didn’t have the energy for. It would hurt all over again. It would stain this opportunity for a new start.
She bristled. “It’s not nothing, but okay.” She took a deep breath. “I know my work experience is limited, but I am a hard worker.”
I nodded. “Well, let’s get you a work shirt. You’ll be shadowing Emma this week. Then, you’ll have a half shift where I observe you and see if you’re keeping up. You will be compensated for your time until you are fully onboarded.” I paused to let the information settle. I watched her warm brown eyes stare at the computer screen while she processed and nodded her understanding. “Do you have any questions?” I asked.
Maeda shook her head, no.
“Well then,” I clapped my hands on my thighs and stood up. I opened a cabinet and grabbed Maeda a work shirt and handed it to her. “Let me give you a tour of the space, then you can come by tomorrow morning for your first shift with Emma.” I gestured around the office. “This is the office. You can take breaks in here, if you want, but it’s small so people tend to take breaks outside at the tables and benches. We just ask if you’re going to be taking a break, take off your work shirt so people don’t bother you on your break. These lockers are for employees only. You can put a lock on it if you’d like, but most people don’t. We use an app to clock in and out and see the schedule and get shift coverage and all that.”
We walked out of the office toward the diner side of the building. Following the handrail that separated the diner from the lanes, we descended down a few stairs to the alley floor. Each lane had its own ball return and seating, standard for any bowling alley.
“We have 21 lanes, so we are considered a smaller bowling alley, but it’s Pine Grove. What do you expect?” I laughed.
“Why 21? That’s an odd number.”
“It’s Lucky Lanes. 777, seven times three is 21.” I shrugged. “Listen, the owner, Mike, never was one to gamble, but he liked the superstition of it.”
We walked down the lanes from 1 to 21. I thought about the Maeda I used to know and the woman who was next to me. “So, how old is your kid?”
“She’s five.”
I couldn’t help but do the math. It had been six years since she walked out of my life, and even if I believed in them, this couldn’t be a coincidence.
“That sounds like a fun age.” What else could I say?
Just as we were about to turn left to the pinsetters, the front door opened, and an old man walked in. Well, more like shuffled in.
“Mike, where is your cane?” I called out. The owner of Lucky Lanes swatted my question away like it was a fly. His beady eyes narrowed when they landed on us.
“You know better than bringing dates in here when you’re on the clock,” Mike grunted.
Maeda stiffened next to me.
“First, this is not a date.”
Mike huffed.
