Becoming Johanna

by C. A. Pack

washing windows when her furniture arrived.

  She had them place the futon on the far end of the living area, and they leaned the folding table and chair in the part of the room nearest the kitchen. They dumped everything else on the futon.

  “Thanks.” She stood at the door waiting for them to leave. They seemed reluctant to depart until she said, “Don’t let me keep you. You must have other deliveries to make.”

  “Yeah, lady, and we usually get tips when we make them.”

  Josefina froze. She knew nothing about tipping. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar. “Here.”

  “You’re all heart, lady,” the delivery boy said with a sneer. “You’d better keep this. I think you need it more than we do.” He stuffed the bill back in her hand and slammed the door as he left.

  Josefina felt the sting of tears, but fought it. This is what she wanted—to be on her own—and she’d have to learn the ropes as she went along.

  It didn’t take her long to set up her new home. She opened the legs to the card table and pushed it into the corner with the chair under it. That took all of ten minutes. She played around with the futon, unfolding the cushion into a bed, and then folding it again into something resembling a couch. That took another ten minutes. She placed her pillow and blanket on top of the cushion, and then put the other items she’d purchased in the kitchen. She boiled some water for tea and ate soup and crackers for dinner. After cleaning up, there was nothing to do, so she put on her nightgown and made up her bed.

  She found it hard to fall asleep. Every time a vehicle drove by, the lights illuminated the room. Every distant sound she heard made her think there was a prowler outside. And softer sounds made her wonder if mice were skittering about inside her walls. She’d fallen asleep the night before on the dirty floor quite easily, but tonight—even in her new bed—sleep eluded her for hours.

  The next morning, Josefina looked for mouse droppings. She relaxed when she didn’t find any. Okay. I can live here. Now she needed an income so she could continue living there. She put on her skirt and blouse and walked back to the shopping area, inquiring at every store if they needed help. She struck out there but overhead a woman saying her daughter had just been hired at LOI Book Services. She had no idea what or where that was but figured it couldn’t be far. She approached the woman. “Excuse me. I couldn’t help hearing that your daughter had just been hired at a book services company. I’m wondering if you could tell me where it’s located?”

  “You must be a stranger to these parts. It’s right in the heart of town, across from the motor vehicle bureau.”

  “You’re right,” Josefina admitted. “I am new in town. I just arrived yesterday. Could you point me in the right direction?”

  The woman swung her arm in the direction of the grocery store. “It’s just down the road a piece—about a mile.”

  “Thank you,” Johanna said, and headed in the direction the woman had pointed. Twenty minutes later, she found herself on the outskirts of the business district. She kept her eyes open for the motor vehicle office. She had an idea that she hoped would work.

  Inside the MVB, she found herself waiting in a succession of lines. The woman at the head of the first line told her to stand in a second line, and the man at the front of the second line told her she would have to wait until someone became available to talk to her. She didn’t mind the wait at first, but as the hands on the clock slowly made their way around, she became more and more aware of the amount of time being wasted on a wisp of an idea, when she should have been looking for work.

  She heard the name Joan Carr announced over the loudspeaker—and froze. What were the chances that a girl whose wallet was stolen near the foundling home would be here today? Then she realized they were calling her and walked up to the counter.

  “Hi,” she said meekly.

  “What can I help you with today?” The guy on the other side of the counter was in his early twenties and had a friendly face behind his thick glasses.

  “It’s my license. I was in such a rush to replace it when it was stolen, I didn’t notice that they got the name wrong. It’s not ‘Joan A.’ It’s Johanna. And it’s not ‘Carr.’ It’s Charette. I just noticed the mistake, and I need a new one in a hurry. I’m going out of town, and I have to take it with me.”

  “What happened to your picture?”

  “I spilled something on it.” She didn’t go on to say she did it on purpose to make it harder to tell the photo wasn’t of her.

  The clerk peered at the picture and the information on the card. “How do I know this is your card? Do you have another form of identification?”

  She reached for her wallet. She couldn’t use the library card or credit card, because they were in the other girl’s name. Then her hand brushed against another piece of paper. She pulled it out and stared at the name on the top. She had tried out the name Johanna Charette the day before, when she asked to have her futon delivered. Luckily, they hadn’t written the address on her copy. They had scribbled it on a separate form that they taped to the furniture.

  “I don’t know if this would help,” she said, thrusting the yellow receipt into the clerk’s hand. She opened her eyes really wide and sighed. “I really need your help.”

  It took him a while to respond. “And you say everything else is the same?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “They just muddled the name. Everything was crazy that day,” she continued, warming up to her deception. “Something broke down that wasn’t supposed to break down, and everyone was running around. I was so interested in watching the chaos that I never checked my license before leaving. Please help me.”

  Again, he hesitated and looked like he internally debated the veracity of her story. Then, he smiled. “Okay. Give me your information, and I’ll have a new one sent out to you.”

  “No!” she exclaimed. “I mean you can’t,” she corrected herself. “I’m going out of town, like I said before, and I need it right away.”

  A real tear slipped down her cheek—a tear of frustration—and the clerk could not bear to hurt a pretty girl during her moment of need. “Okay,” he said. “Wait here.” He went to one of the many vacant desks clustered behind him and inserted a form. He typed in her information with the corrected name. He returned to the counter with part of the form he had just filled out. “I’m going to have to take another picture. I can’t call up your old one right now. And you’ll have to take another eye test.”

  “Okay,” she said. She read the eye chart, smiled for the picture, and held her breath while she waited for the machine to spit out the finished product.

  “Here you are.” He handed her the license. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” she whispered, studying the card with her picture and new identity. “This is perfect.” She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”

  He smiled back. “Any time, Johanna Charette. You know where I am if you need me.”

  She walked out of the motor vehicle bureau and spotted LOI Book Services across the street. She took a deep breath before walking inside. “Hi. My name is Johanna Charette,” she said, extending her hand. “I heard you were hiring from a neighbor whose daughter just got a job here. I absolutely love books and spend all my spare time reading. Please tell me you’re still hiring.”

  “What kind of experience do you have?”

  Johanna only hesitated a moment. “I have experience working in a school. I think it’s so important for children to read.”

  “You hardly look old enough to have been a teacher.”

  “I graduated high school early. And,” she lied, “I was a student teacher.”

  “Why did you give up teaching?”

  “I moved. And I could really use a job. I’ll do anything.”

  “We have an opening, but you’re probably overqualified for it.”

  “What is it?” Johanna asked.

  “We need an account specialist. Someone with excellent telephone and
organizing skills who enjoys dealing with the public.”

  “I’m your girl,” Johanna said. She had never had much reason to speak on the phone, but how hard could it be? She could make up for her lack of phone skills with her organizing skills. And she’d be happy to meet the public. As long as none of them are from Peakie’s.

  The receptionist took a form out of her desk drawer and attached it to a clipboard. “Fill this out and return it to me when you’re done. Meanwhile, I’ll see if there’s anyone who can interview you this afternoon.”

  Johanna wrote her new name and new address on the form. She filled out the other information to the best of her ability. She changed a couple of the digits on the social security number she had taken from Peakie’s so she wouldn’t be linked to the home. When it came to past experience, she froze. She couldn’t write Peakie’s Foundling Home as her place of past employment. LOI Book Services might contact them, and Peakie’s could try to track her down. Instead, she made up the name of a school in a small town on the other side of the country. Maybe they’d be so impressed by her work skills that they wouldn’t care about her lack of experience.

  Johanna was right. LOI Book Services needed customer service clerks so badly, they never bothered to check her references. From what she’d told them during her interview, none of her past experience would come into play for this particular job. Besides, it was an entry-level position.

  Unfortunately, the position was not what Johanna expected. She thought she would be surrounded by books and interesting people. Instead, she sat at a desk piled high with invoices, and a stack of ever growing book requests. She didn’t get to meet the public, just speak with them over the phone, and most customers were gruff, economized their words, and weren’t afraid to criticize her when they thought she was wrong. Still, it was better than sweating in a laundry or ladling out what-passed-for-food to youngsters who couldn’t differentiate it from the real thing because they had never eaten a wholesome or delicious meal in their lives.

  There was a high turnover rate in the office, with new faces coming and going every few weeks. The only exception was Lucinda, a middle-aged woman who would probably die of old age at her desk. Johanna could sense Lucinda marking her territory every time she spoke. To make matters worse, she reminded Johanna of the matron at Peakie’s. If ever a relationship was doomed to failure, it was any semblance of friendship between Johanna and Lucinda. But the young girl did manage to cultivate a couple of friendships outside of work.

  Johanna ran into Amaranda—a catalogue copywriter—almost every day in the coffee line, and she found Amaranda had a sharp wit and a comical rejoinder for nearly everything said to her. Amaranda had graduated from a college specializing in fashion design and illustration and hoped to work for a major fashion magazine one day. Right now, she only got to write short catalogue descriptions, but she studied all the latest styles and pored over fashion blogs, reading every description and studying the words the writers used.

  Then there was the clerk from the motor vehicle bureau. Derrick frequented the same coffee truck and made it a point to say hello to Johanna whenever he saw her. Eventually, he got up the courage to question something she had told him. “Johanna?”

  “Yes, Derrick?”

  “I thought you had to leave town in a hurry, and that’s why you needed your license so quickly.”

  Amaranda sneezed, jostling Johanna and making her spill the coffee just handed to her. By the time Johanna had recovered, she knew just what to say.

  “I was supposed to go away with my father on a trip, but my sister wheedled and whined until he asked me if I would mind staying home while he took her on vacation instead. It really made my blood boil, because she always gets what she wants. She’s the baby in the family. Anyway, I had given up my job because I thought I’d be spending the summer … away. So, when I heard about an opening here, I decided working in a new place would be my summer adventure. I rented a small cottage across town and settled in.”

  “Really? You’re living here now?”

  “Um-hmm. It’s tiny, but it’s mine.”

  “Did you change the address on your license?”

  “Not yet. I want to make sure I’m going to stay first. My father may have a hissy fit when he finds out I moved away from home.”

  “Well, you know where to find me when you need to have that done.”

  “Thanks, Derrick.” Johanna smiled to herself. She thought she was going to have to take a bus out of town to another motor vehicle bureau to avoid suspicion when changing her address. But since Derrick offered to do it, she could hardly turn him down.

  “Would … uh …” Derrick blushed, “would you have dinner with me on Friday?”

  She froze. She didn’t want to date Derrick but felt she could hardly turn him down. Not to mention, she’d be getting a free meal out of the deal. Still, she didn’t want to lead him on, so she lied—something that came all too easily to her lately. “I’d love to have dinner with you, but to be honest, I’m currently dating someone. He’s in the military … in the Middle East.”

  “Oh.” Derrick paused for a second. “I understand, but since I already asked you, I’d still like to take you out … as a friend.”

  Johanna smiled. “Okay, Derrick. Dinner would be very nice.”

  He got his coffee and returned to work with a smile on his face.

  “Do you really want to go out with that guy?” Amaranda asked.

  “Not on a date, but I certainly don’t mind having dinner with him as a friend. I can use all the friends I can get.”

  “Well then, I hope you enjoy yourself. But next Friday, why don’t you go to the movies with me and the girls?”

  “Okay,” Johanna answered. “It’s a deal.”

  Johanna was disappointed when she didn’t receive a paycheck after her first week but thought she had enough savings left to get her to the next payday. Maybe she could even afford a lamp. Sure, she had a futon and a table, but the only lights were in the kitchen and bathroom. She planned to pick up a few books at the library, but she didn’t want to read them in the kitchen or the bathroom. After carefully counting her savings, she figured she had enough money for a lamp and maybe even a little table to put it on, as long as she stayed on the lower end of the price range. She stopped by the bargain store on her way home from work and picked out what she wanted.

  “You want us to deliver that?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll take the lamp now and come back tomorrow for the table.” She took the money for the purchases out of her wallet.

  “We’re not in the habit of storing purchases. I’m going to have to charge you a fee for that,” the salesman said. He reached for the money, but she snatched her hand away.

  “On second thought, I’ll just take the lamp.” She laid half the money on the counter.

  The salesman’s features hardened. “I can’t promise the table you want will be here when you come back for it.”

  “And I can’t promise I won’t go to Danny’s Den of Deals in town to buy one.”

  “Really? You’re going to carry a table all the way home from town?”

  “I will if I have to,” Johanna answered. If it kills me, she thought to herself.

  That evening at dinner, Derrick told her all about his plans to study architecture. “My father owns a construction company, and I worked for him during summer vacations, but I want to do more than build someone else’s design. He ridiculed the idea. He told me contractors, not architects, are responsible for working out the logistics to erecting all the great buildings in the world. According to my father, studying architecture is a waste of time, and I should work with him to build up the company.

  “That’s the day I stopped working for him. I knew my old man would keep chipping away at my plan to continue my education. So I took a job at the motor vehicle bureau, even though I make less money and it will take longer to save up tuition, because I refuse to abandon my dream to become an archite
ct.”

  “Following your dream sounds really noble.” Derrick reminded Johanna of herself, but she didn’t want to talk about her past, so instead, she told him how much the guy at the bargain store had upset her when he tried to wrangle extra money from her.

  “You know, if you want me to go with you when you buy the table in town, I can drive it back to your place in my car.”

  Johanna’s mouth dropped open. “You would do that for me?”

  Derrick smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “I grew up alone. No one ever helped me out like that before.”

  A fragment of information poked at his brain cells. His eyes narrowed. “I’m sure your sister would have, if you gave her the chance,” he said tentatively.

  “I don’t have a sister.” She suddenly realized she had fabricated a story about her sister going away in her place, to get Derrick to change the name on the license.

  “What?”

  “At least, that’s what I pretend,” she continued. “I find her so exasperating that I’ve written her off completely.”

  “Oh.” Derrick smiled. “For a moment, there, you had me going.”

  Johanna felt a headache coming on. When she used it as an excuse to ask Derrick to take her home early, it wasn’t a lie.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow around one o’clock to go to the furniture store.”

  “Thanks, Derrick. I’ll see you then.”

  That night, she tried to sleep, but her head pounded, and she had no aspirin. She put it on her virtual list for her post-payday shopping extravaganza.

  Johanna had dark circles under her eyes the next day when Derrick picked her up. “You feeling all right?”

  “I don’t have any aspirin. I just moved in and there are a lot of things I haven’t stocked up on yet.”

  “There’s a drugstore down the block from Danny’s Den of Deals. We can pick some up. Do you want to go there first?”

  “No, I’d better buy the table first. I want to make sure I have enough money.”

  “I could always lend you money if you need it.”

  “I can’t take your money, Derrick.”

  “Because your boyfriend wouldn’t approve?”

  Johanna felt uncomfortable. That’s another whopper I told him. Creating a new license was one thing; her entire identity had depended on it. But lying to Derrick about having a boyfriend was something else entirely. She did it to spare his feelings. Now she felt trapped in a web of lies. She had never lied before. The punishment for getting caught in a lie at the foundling home had been brutal, and the children there quickly learned to take their chances with the truth, rather than be punished for a lie. Now, everything about her was a lie. She had abandoned her old life only the week before, and apparently, her ideals along with it. She felt her headache returning.

  She found an end table at the furniture store that was nicer than the one she had seen at the bargain