~NARRATED BY VIOLET~
“Violet, wake up! You’ve got a job interview, and you’re going to be late!” I felt someone shaking my shoulders and patting my face.
Ugh!
“Just five more minutes, Mom,” I grumbled, pulling the sheet over my head.
“Five more minutes, my foot, and I’m not your mom! Now get out of that darn bed before I dump a bucket of cold water on you!”
Jennifer’s voice is shrill, and as soon as her words sink in, I snap my eyes open and sit up in bed.
Last night, I was so nervous and had such a pounding headache that I ended up falling asleep way too late, which meant a terrible night’s rest. Naturally, I overslept this morning.
“Good grief!” Jennifer, my roommate and best friend, exclaims. Of course, she doesn’t miss a chance to be dramatic, clutching her chest before saying, “I thought you’d slipped into a coma, girl!”
“Cut it out, Jen.”
“Violet! You’ve got a job interview. You can’t be late!”
I sigh. She’s right.
I drag myself out of bed and head to my closet, picking out a presentable outfit. After all, my interview is at a well-known advertising agency here in New York, and everyone there dresses to impress. I may not fit society’s beauty standards, but I’m not about to show up looking like a mess.
“Are you nervous?” Jen asks, handing me my hairbrush. I start combing through my hair, which looks more like a bird’s nest than anything else.
What kind of question is that? Of course I’m nervous—terrified, even. My heart’s practically in my throat, and I’m shaking like a leaf. This job means everything to me, and to her too, since we share an apartment and split the bills for groceries, gas, internet, and all the household expenses. I’ve been out of work for ages, and my overdue payments are driving me up the wall. If it weren’t for Jen, we’d probably be out on the street by now.
“Of course I am, Jen,” I say, heading to the bathroom. “You know how important this job is. You can’t keep carrying all our expenses on your shoulders.” I grab my toothbrush and squeeze on some toothpaste. “I’m beyond nervous. And if I don’t get this, I’ll have to ask my dad for money, and I really don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t worry. Besides, when I was out of work, you did the same for me.”
That was a really tough time. It happened almost a year ago. Jen lost her job, and I had to cover all the bills. She’s my best friend; I couldn’t demand anything from her, and I knew I could handle it. I had a decent job and made a reasonable income, I just had to cut back on a few things. There were days when breakfast was nothing but saltine crackers and coffee, and we couldn’t even afford gas for the car. Thankfully, we’ve always had good people around us, and my parents, Jen’s parents, and our friends helped us out a lot. Still, it was awful going through that.
“And that’s exactly why I need this job. I still haven’t forgotten that rough patch.”
“I remember it too,” she says thoughtfully, falling silent for a moment, probably reliving those days in her mind. “You cut back on everything and ended up not sending money to your mom for five months.”
When I called my dad to explain what was going on, he insisted on returning the money I’d sent him the day before. He told me not to send anything until I was back on my feet, that he could cover Mom’s medication. I felt so defeated. My parents have always taken care of me, and in that moment, I couldn’t take care of them. I felt completely helpless. I ended up agreeing and stopped sending money for a while. Instead, Dad doubled his work hours and started sending me money every month. My family has always been incredibly close.
I only started sending money home again five months later, after Jen landed a job. But now we’re in another rough spot, which is why this interview is so crucial, on top of needing to send money home every month.
“Santiesteban seems like a tough nut to crack,” Jen says while making my bed, “but I know you’ve got this.” She walks over and gives me a hug.
“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d do without your support, girl.” I give her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Now get ready. I’ve whipped up a feast for us,” she says with a wide grin before leaving my room. I sigh, thinking about the breakfast she must have prepared.
Jen is a culinary student and an assistant chef at a restaurant in the city. That’s reason enough for someone like me, who loves food, to adore her for life. She’s always been my best friend. We grew up as neighbors, and our parents were close friends. We learned to look out for each other from a young age. We’ve always shared the same dreams, one of which was to live in New York. When I passed the entrance exam for the psychology program and she got a scholarship for a prestigious culinary course, our parents supported our decision to move to the big city.
Of course, they were thrilled. My mom even fainted from excitement and then made a vow. She swore she wouldn’t cut her hair until she saw me graduate from college. That’s the kind of thing you hear from folks in a small, religious town. Even Jen’s mom joined in and made the same promise. Sadly, my mom couldn’t keep hers because of her illness.
Anyway, I’m Violet Spears. I’m a psychology student in my final semester, close to graduating, and soon I’ll have to tackle the dreaded final project. I’m 22 years old. I’m currently unemployed, but I’m hoping that changes today. I used to have a job, but the company went under and laid everyone off.
By the way, the interview I’m heading to today is for a nanny position for two young kids. The younger one is five, and the older one is eight. They’re the children of Miguel Santiesteban, the owner of a famous advertising agency. Some people say Miguel is a tyrant—controlling and self-centered. I’m not so sure about that yet.
I finish getting dressed. The weather today is freezing, so I opt for warm clothes, but I wear a sleeveless top under my blouse since the weather here can be so unpredictable. I apply a subtle shade of lipstick and take one last look in the mirror.
I grab my purse, keys, and phone. I leave my room, walk down the hallway, cross the living room, and step into the kitchen, already catching the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Jen is the best cook in the world, and I’m lucky to be her friend. I’m greeted by a table loaded with delicious food—fruit compotes, freshly baked bread, and an amazing pudding. I know she’s just as nervous as I am, and when Jen’s nervous, she wakes up super early and bakes all kinds of desserts. Today, she’s outdone herself. I sit down at the table and relax. My nerves make me eat more than I should, but it’s impossible to hold back when I’m faced with a feast fit for the gods of mythology. Sorry, Zeus, but this is all mine today.
“I’ve got to head out before I’m late. You know how traffic is at this hour,” I say, taking one last spoonful of pudding.
“Oh, I know. Just yesterday, I got into it with an old man who was in a rush,” Jen replies. She stands up too and takes our mugs to the sink. “He had the nerve to say women can’t drive.” Jen makes her signature grimace and continues, “I swear, if he weren’t such a cranky old geezer, I would’ve made him eat his words.”
“Did you tell him to shove it?” I sling my purse over my shoulder. “That’s not a crime, hon.”
“I did, and people stared at me like I was some kind of freak.” I roll my eyes. Sadly, we live in a hypocritical, sexist, and racist country. “Anyway, let’s drop it,” my friend says, coming over to give me a hug. “Good luck, my little gummy bear. I know you’ll nail it.”
“Thanks.” I kiss her on the forehead. “Honestly, everything was delicious. It’s given me even more energy.” I gesture to the desserts on the table, and Jen smiles, giving a little bow. “I’m heading out now.” I grab my purse and leave.