1
Kelsey
I was standing on a precipice. Technically, I was just standing in line at a temp job office in Oregon, but it felt like a precipice. Childhood, high school, and the illusion that life was good and times were easy were behind me. Ahead loomed the future: college, a variety of summer jobs to help pay for tuition, and the probability of a lonely adulthood.
The line inched forward. I’d been waiting for what seemed like hours trying to get a lead on a summer job. When it was finally my turn, I approached the desk of a bored, tired job placement worker who was on the phone. The woman gestured me closer and indicated that I should sit down. After she hung up, I handed her some forms and she mechanically began the interview.
‘Name, please.’
‘Kelsey. Kelsey Hayes.’
‘Age?’
‘Seventeen, almost eighteen. My birthday’s coming soon.’
She stamped the forms. ‘Are you a high school graduate?’
‘Yes. I graduated just a couple of weeks ago. I plan on attending Chemeketa this fall.’
‘Parents’ names?’
‘Madison and Joshua Hayes, but my guardians are Sarah and Michael Neilson.’
‘Guardians?’ Here we go again, I thought. Somehow explaining my life never got easier. ‘Yes. My parents are . . . deceased. They died in a car accident when I was a freshman.’
She bent over some paperwork and scribbled for a long time. I grimaced, wondering what she could be writing that was taking so long.
‘Miss Hayes, do you like animals?’
‘Sure. Umm, I know how to feed them . . .’ Is anyone lamer than me? Way to talk myself out of being hired. I cleared my throat. ‘I mean, sure, I love animals.’
The woman didn’t really seem to care about my response, and she handed me a posting for a job.
NEEDED:
A TEMPORARY WORKER FOR TWO WEEKS ONLY
DUTIES INCLUDE: TICKET SALES,
FEEDING THE ANIMALS, AND
CLEANING UP AFTER PERFORMANCES.
Note: Because the tiger and dogs
need to be cared for 24/7, room and board
are provided.
The job was for the Circus Maurizio, a small family-run circus at the fairgrounds. I remembered getting a coupon for it at the grocery store and I’d even considered offering to take my foster parents’ kids, Rebecca, who is six years old, and Samuel, who is four, so that Sarah and Mike could have some time to themselves. But then I lost the coupon and forgot all about it.
‘So, do you want the job or what?’ the woman asked impatiently.
‘A tiger, huh? Sounds interesting! Are there elephants, too? Because I have to draw the line at scooping up elephant droppings.’ I giggled quietly at my own joke, but the woman didn’t so much as crack a smile. Since I had no other options, I told her that I would do it. She gave me a card with an address and she instructed me to be there the next day by 6:00 a.m.
I wrinkled my nose. ‘They need me at six in the morning?’
The worker just gave me a look and shouted ‘Next!’ at the line shuffling behind me.
What had I gotten myself into? I thought as I climbed into Sarah’s borrowed hybrid and headed home. I sighed. It could be worse. I could be flipping burgers tomorrow. Circuses are fun. I just hope there are no elephants.
Living with Sarah and Mike was okay for the most part. They gave me a lot more freedom than most other kids’ parents, and I think we have a healthy respect for each other – well, as least as much as adults can respect a seventeen-year-old anyway. I helped babysit their kids and never got into trouble. It wasn’t the same as being with my parents, but we were still a family of sorts.
I parked the car carefully in the garage and headed into the house to find Sarah attacking a mixing bowl with a wooden spoon. I dropped my bag on a chair and went to get a glass of water.
‘Making vegan cookies again, I see. What’s the special occasion?’ I asked.
Sarah jammed the wooden spoon into the dense dough several times as if the spoon were an icepick. ‘It’s Sammy’s turn to bring treats for his playdate.’
I stifled a snigger by coughing.
She narrowed her eyes at me shrewdly. ‘Kelsey Hayes, just because your mother was the best cookie baker in the world doesn’t mean I can’t make a decent treat.’
‘It’s not your skills I doubt, it’s your ingredients,’ I said, picking up a jar. ‘Substitute nut butter, flax, protein powder, and agave. I’m surprised you don’t put recycled paper in those things. Where’s the chocolate?’
‘I use carob sometimes.’
‘Carob is not chocolate. It tastes like brown chalk. If you’re going to make cookies, you should make—’
‘I know. I know. Pumpkin chocolate chip or double chocolate peanut butters. They’re really bad for you, Kelsey,’ she said with a sigh.
‘But they taste so good.’
I watched Sarah lick a finger and continued. ‘By the way, I got a job. I’m going to be cleaning up and feeding animals at a circus. It’s at the fairgrounds.’
‘Good for you! That sounds like it will be a great experience,’ Sarah perked up. ‘What kind of animals?’
‘Uh, dogs mostly. And I think there’s a tiger. But I probably won’t have to do anything dangerous. I’m sure they have professional tiger people for that stuff. But I do have to start really early and will be sleeping there for the next two weeks.’
‘Hmmm,’ Sarah paused contemplatively. ‘Well we’re just a phone call away if you need us. Would you mind taking the brussels sprouts casserole a la “recycled newspaper” out of the oven?’
I set the stinky casserole in the center of the table while she popped her cookie sheets in the oven and called the kids to dinner. Mike came in, set down his briefcase, and kissed his wife on the cheek.
‘What’s that . . . smell?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Brussels sprouts casserole,’ I answered.
‘And I made cookies for Sammy’s playgroup,’ Sarah announced proudly. ‘I’ll save the best one for you.’
Mike shot me a knowing look that Sarah caught. She snapped her dishtowel at his thigh.
‘If that’s the attitude you and Kelsey are bringing to the table then the two of you get cleanup duty tonight.’
‘Aw, honey. Don’t be mad.’ He kissed Sarah again and wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to get out of the task.
I took that as my cue to exit. As I snuck out of the kitchen, I heard Sarah giggle.
Someday, I’d like a guy to try and talk himself out of cleanup duty with me in the same way, I thought and smiled.
Apparently, Mike negotiated well because he got put-the-kids-to-bed duty instead of cleanup, while I was left to do dishes on my own. I didn’t mind really but as soon as I was done, I decided it was my bedtime too. Six o’clock in the morning was going to come awfully early.
Quietly, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was small and cozy, with just a simple bed, a mirrored dresser, a desk for my computer and homework, a closet, my clothes, my books, a basket of different colored hair ribbons, and my grandmother’s quilt.
My grandmother made that quilt when I was little. I was very young, but I remember her stitching it together, the same metal thimble always on her finger. I traced a butterfly on the worn-out, raggedy-at-the-corners quilt, remembering how I had snuck the thimble out of her sewing kit one night just to feel her near me. Even though I was a teenager, I still slept with the quilt every night.
I changed into my pajamas, shook my hair free from its braid, and brushed it out, flashing back to how Mom used to do it for me while we talked.
Crawling under my warm covers, I set my alarm for, ugh, 4:30 a.m. and wondered what I could possibly be doing with a tiger so early in the morning and how I would survive the three-ring circus that was already my life. My stomach growled.
I glanced at my nightstand and the two pictures I kept out. One picture was of the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me at a New Year’s celebration. I had just turned twelve. My long brown hair had been curled but in the picture it drooped because I’d thrown a fit about using hairspray. I’d smiled in the shot, despite the fact that I had a gleaming row of silver braces. I was grateful for my straight white teeth now, but I’d absolutely hated those braces back then.
I touched the glass, placing my thumb briefly over the image of my pale face. I’d always longed to be svelte, tan, blond, and blue eyed but I had the same brown eyes as my father and the tendency toward chubbiness of my mother.
The other was a candid shot of my parents at their wedding. There was a beautiful water fountain in the background, and they were young, happy, and smiling at each other. I wanted that for myself someday. I wanted someone to look at me like that.
Flopping over on my stomach and stuffing my pillow under my cheek, I drifted off thinking about my mom’s cookies.
That night, I dreamed I was being chased through the jungle, and when I turned to look at my pursuer, I was startled to see a large tiger. My dream self laughed and smiled and then turned and ran faster. The sound of gentle, padded paws raced along after me, beating in time with my heart.