Gap Life

by John Coy

  As we waited, I thought about how hard it would be to work at the mall. I wouldn’t be able to borrow Mom’s car all the time, and it was a long way to bike. The bus would take forever. I needed something downtown, something closer to home.

  Nora came out of Malley’s and Jett flipped her bike into the back of the truck. The three of us squished together in front, with Nora, who smelled like ice cream and perfume, in the middle.

  Jett talked about basketball camp and Nora described how she liked working at the law office and seeing what it took to be a lawyer. I looked out the window at all the stores where other people worked. Jett had his job. Nora had two. They both were headed to college and now they had each other.

  I didn’t have shit.

  LUCKY DAY

  THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE UP ON JETT’S COUCH and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I shifted around but kept thinking about how screwed up not going to college was, like a bad dream with no end.

  I got up, dressed, and left quietly for the Edge. I walked the ten blocks hoping Rayne would be there, but when I arrived, she wasn’t. Instead a parade of businesspeople lined up for their daily fix and hurried off. I poured sugar into my cappuccino and checked out Instagram. I texted Jett thanks for letting me stay over and played Solitaire on my phone. I lost every time.

  And when I looked up, Rayne was sitting at her table, writing. How had she appeared without my noticing? She was wearing baggy jean shorts and a tight orange T-shirt with a broken peace sign down the middle. Disappointingly, she had a bra on underneath.

  She turned and met my gaze. “What are you looking at, Cray?”

  “Umm, nothing. I mean, your shirt.” I picked up my phone and coffee and went over.

  “They’re just boobs,” she said. “Women have ’em, you know.”

  “What are you writing?” I couldn’t believe she’d said that.

  “Not writing. Drawing.” She closed her book.

  “Can I see?”

  “Sure.” She slid it over and opened the page.

  Looking straight up at me was me. The drawing had my scar and short hair and big ears. The mouth was right. The eyes were right. But what surprised me was the expression—a certain sadness I didn’t realize anybody else saw.

  “Wow, you’re good.”

  “I hope it’s okay.” She ran her hand through her wild hair.

  “Okay? Are you kidding? It’s great.”

  “No, I mean that I was drawing you without your permission.”

  “That’s fine.” I peered at the drawing. It was like she saw inside of me.

  “How did you get your scar?” she asked.

  “When I was eight, I was chasing my cousin and tripped and hit my face on the corner of a slide and cut it open pretty bad. Dad rushed me to the clinic and stitched me up himself.”

  “Your dad’s a doc?”

  “Yeah, a cardiovascular surgeon.”

  “That’s close to your eye. You were lucky.”

  “I know.”

  “Everybody’s got scars,” Rayne said. “Some show more than others.”

  I nodded. This girl was definitely different. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “I don’t drink coffee, but I’d love a green tea.”

  The espresso machine whirred while I waited at the counter and Rayne resumed drawing. I ordered a large green tea and pointed to a blueberry-walnut scone. “One of those, please.”

  I returned to the table. “For you.”

  “That’s sweet, but I don’t eat wheat.”

  “Why not?” I glanced at her shirt again and tried to guess what a broken peace sign meant.

  “I’m allergic. I get bad headaches from wheat.” She blew on her tea and took a sip.

  “So you don’t eat bread or muffins or scones?”

  “Only if they’re wheat-free. Three days a week they have wheat-free muffins here.”

  I broke off a corner of the scone and ate it. “I can’t imagine not eating wheat. I love it.”

  “I do, too.” She smiled. “Sometimes what we love isn’t good for us.”

  I stared at her. She had clear natural skin. No makeup as far as I could tell.

  “Not eating wheat doesn’t make me love it less,” she said. “I probably love it more than you since you can eat it whenever you want. We’re human—we love what we can’t have.”

  I felt guilty about eating when she couldn’t. “Do they have anything that doesn’t have wheat today?”

  “Only chocolate-covered macaroons.”

  “Can I get you one?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got this.” She pulled a banana out of her backpack and peeled it. “Would you like a bite?” She held out the banana.

  “No, I’m good.” It felt a bit weird.

  “Sure?”

  What the hell—it was just a banana. I bit off the end and we both laughed.

  I picked a walnut off the scone and brushed crumbs off it. “Walnut?”

  She stuck it on the top of her banana and bit it in a sexy way. “Mmmmm.”

  Wow. Rayne wasn’t like Teagan or Kenna or any other girls I knew. “What are you doing this summer?”

  “Making money for my gap year.” She wiped her mouth.

  “What’s that?” I broke off another chunk of scone.

  “I’m taking time to travel. I want to see the world and experience new things.”

  “And you’ll still go to college?”

  “Yeah, at some point, but I’m in no hurry. The application process encourages dishonesty, and I’m glad to have a break.” She rolled the banana peel into a ball. “Last fall, one of the counselors told us to be sure to apply to a safety school. A safety school? Should we pick a safety career? A safety life? Who wants to live like that?” She shrugged and opened her arms. “So many people act like where they’re accepted determines their future. They’ve got way more control over their lives than that.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t thought about any of this. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be a doctor. I didn’t know what came next.

  “Besides, living abroad will make me more interesting to colleges when I do apply. It’s not why I’m going, but I get the game.” Rayne wrapped the banana peel in a napkin.

  “Where are you traveling?”

  “Scotland to start. I’ve got a thing for bagpipes and guys in kilts, and my grandfather, who was Scottish, taught me ‘Over the Sea to Skye’ when I was little.” She leaned in and started singing, as if singing in a coffee shop was no big deal.

  Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,

  Onward! the sailors cry;

  Carry the lord that’s born to be King

  Over the sea to Skye.

  Rayne looked at me as she sang, and I suddenly felt like every girl I’d ever known had been practice for meeting her.

  Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,

  Thunderclaps rend the air;

  Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,

  Follow they will not dare.

  The song was mysterious and I wanted more. I could have stared at her and listened for hours.

  “So I’m working to save money to get to Skye.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “Two places. One’s in the art department at the university, and the other’s a place called Oakcrest where four adults who have disabilities live. They all have jobs during the day, and I sleep over four nights a week.”

  “You get paid to sleep?” I finished off my cappuccino.

  “Exactly,” she said. “I go in at ten and leave at seven when the morning person comes in. I’m there in case of an emergency. What about you? What are you doing this summer?”

  “Looking for work. I need a job.” My heel tapped away as I talked.

  “What kind of job?” She swirled the tea in her cup.

  “Anything that pays.”

  “Today might be your lucky day, my friend.”

  “I could use some luck.”

  “Rebecca, the woman who
works opposite me on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, is having hip surgery,” Rayne said. “Everybody loves her, but she’s out for the summer and we need someone to cover three nights a week. I can’t because they don’t like paying overtime.”

  “I’m good at sleeping. I’ve had lots of practice.” Finally something I was qualified for.

  “Do you have any experience with people with developmental disabilities?”

  “Yeah, my cousin Jacob, the one I was chasing when I cut my face, has Down syndrome. We’re the same age and always hang out at family events.”

  “Good.” Rayne finished her tea.

  I thought about anything else that would help. “I shut up a couple of guys last night who used the word retard.”

  Rayne nodded. “Ever been convicted of a sex crime?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “I didn’t think so.” She laughed.

  “Why are you helping me like this?” As soon as I said it, I knew I sounded suspicious.

  “I like your vibe, and helping people is good karma. Besides, I think you’d be a good fit.” Rayne stood up.

  I was glad to see she was tall. Not as tall as I was, but at least five foot ten. Tall was good.

  “Let’s go see about getting you that job.”

  EXPERIENCE

  I FOLLOWED RAYNE DOWN THE HALL OF THE THIRD floor of an old building, a place I never would have looked for a job. She pushed open a door marked CLAIREMONT SUPPORT SERVICES and held it for me.

  “Rayne.” A large woman greeted her.

  “Lydia, this is my friend Cray.” She turned to me. “Lydia’s the office manager. She’s the one who really runs things around here.”

  Lydia smiled. “What brings you in so early?”

  “Cray’s a possibility to sub for Rebecca.”

  I shifted my feet while Lydia looked me over. “Do you have experience with adults with developmental disabilities?”

  Experience. Experience. Experience. It seemed impossible to get started if you didn’t have experience.

  “Yes,” Rayne said. “His cousin has Down syndrome.” She looked at me to see what I’d add.

  “Yeah, my cousin’s name is Jacob. He’s my favorite cousin.” Rayne waved her hand for me to say more. I must have sounded stupid. “Jacob and I are the same age and I’ve always been close to him.”

  Lydia handed me a card with a website address. “Fill out an application online. You’ll need to list three references.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  * * *

  “WALK WITH ME OVER TO THE UNIVERSITY,” Rayne said when we were outside.

  I took a deep breath and looked around. The leaves on the trees seemed greener and the sky shone a brighter blue. Across the street, a catalpa tree sparkled with a cascade of white blossoms.

  “I’m not sure about references. I’ll choose my favorite teacher, Señor Martinez, but I don’t know who else.”

  “Me, of course.” Rayne put on a pair of oversize sunglasses.

  “But you hardly know me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m on your side. Did you have Reinertsen for biology?”

  “Yeah.” My face was reflected in her glasses.

  “Put him down. He gives excellent recommendations.”

  “He won’t remember me.”

  “That doesn’t matter. He doesn’t remember most students, but he always gives glowing recommendations.”

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  “I pay attention.” She crossed the street and I hurried to keep up. “What will you put down for work experience?”

  I told her about the country club.

  “Yuck.” She made a face like she couldn’t imagine a worse job. “Did you work with anybody there with a disability?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “None of the busboys or dishwashers?”

  “Oh, yeah, Kevin, one of the dishwashers. He was the hardest worker and has been there for years. I don’t even think of him that way.”

  “Good answer. Put that down.”

  “Why are you so eager for me to get this job?” I sounded a bit paranoid.

  “If someone offers you help, take it.” She punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Besides, you’ve got good energy. I’m looking out for myself, too. I don’t want to share this job with some tight-ass.”

  * * *

  AFTER RAYNE WENT OFF TO THE ART DEPARTMENT, I returned home to fill out the application on my laptop, confident nobody else would be there. The first questions were easy—basic information about myself and the position I was applying for. I paused at the one about days available and then checked all of them to show how eager I was. For the question about how I learned about the job, I answered honestly. From Rayne.

  The one section I got stuck on was education. There were boxes for the names of schools, degrees, majors, and scholastic honors. That obviously meant college, and I was stumped about what to put down. In the end, I just listed my elementary, middle, and high school, which looked super lame.

  I filled out the references and the employment history and made a point to list Kevin as one of my coworkers. Maybe I made it sound like we worked together more closely than we did, but it was a job application, after all. I finished up with a couple of easy questions about possessing a valid driver’s license and not having ever been convicted of a felony. I checked it over, made a couple of small changes, and sent it in.

  An hour later, while I was staring at videos on my laptop, my phone buzzed.

  “Cray, this is Lydia at CSS, Clairemont Support Services. We’d like you to come in for an interview. Are you free tomorrow morning at ten?”

  “Yes, yes, absolutely.” Finally something good. Something that came directly from Rayne.

  * * *

  AFTER SOME HOOPS AT THE PARK, I went home for dinner. I hadn’t seen Mom or Dad since the college confrontation because I hadn’t wanted to go back until I had a good shot at a job.

  “Did you find work?” Dad zeroed in as soon as I sat down at the big rectangular table in the dining room. The room, as usual, was spotless thanks to the cleaning service.

  I scooped up some lettuce and avocado. “I’ve got an interview with a social services agency tomorrow.”

  “Which one?” Dad ground pepper on his salad. He didn’t allow salt at the table because of his high blood pressure, so he compensated by using plenty of pepper.

  “CSS, Clairemont Support Services. They run programs for adults with disabilities.”

  Mom handed me a basket of warm crescent rolls. “How’d you hear about this job?”

  “My friend Rayne works there.”

  “Rayne.” Lansing looked up. “That’s a peculiar name. As if it’s raining.”

  “Like you should talk, Lansing.”

  “That’s enough, boys,” Mom interrupted. “What’s Rayne’s last name?”

  I paused. It hadn’t come up. “I don’t know.”

  “She’s your friend and you don’t know her last name?” Lansing said.

  It was strange how we were talking about the job and Rayne, but we weren’t talking about college. Dad must have told Mom and Lansing not to bring it up, and I was suspicious. He attacked his chicken and I tried to guess what scheme he had to make me do what he wanted. It was like trying to stay one step ahead in a video game, but in this case, it wasn’t a game. It was my life.

  “What kind of job?” Dad asked while he chewed.

  “An overnight position where I’d be responsible for the house.”

  “You’d stay up all night?” Mom said. “I don’t like that.”

  “Actually, I’d sleep. I’d be there in case of emergencies.”

  Dad put his fork down and stared at me. “That’s not a job. A job is one where you get up in the morning and go to work. It’s not a place to sleep.”

  “It’s a job. I’d get paid.” My chest tightened.

  “Is it full-time?” Mom asked.

  “Part-time. Three nig
hts a week.”

  “You need a real full-time job.” Dad’s face flushed with anger. “Not some half-assed sleeping job.”

  Across the table, Lansing tried to hide a smile, and I wanted to kick him.

  “You’re the one playing games with college, so you’re the one who needs to earn money for rent.” Dad’s face got redder. “You’re creating this situation, not us, so you’re going to live with the consequences.”

  “I didn’t make up the rules.”

  “They’re for your benefit,” Dad shouted.

  I looked down. That was total bullshit.

  “I’m doing this for your own good so you see what life’s like in the real world. You have an unbelievable opportunity with college and need to change your mind. I’m doing you a favor. You may not like it now, but you’ll thank me later.”

  I pushed chicken around my plate.

  Yeah, right. I wasn’t thanking him. What he wanted was for him, not for me. I’d never seen that more clearly.

  INDEPENDENT LIVING

  THE NEXT MORNING, my phone buzzed. It was Jett.

  “Hey, Cray Man, you awake?”

  “Am now. What’s up?”

  “Nora’s folks were out of town last night so I stayed over at her place. I’m just leaving now.”

  “Wow.” I stuffed a pillow behind my head.

  “She’s wild, way different from what everybody thinks. I didn’t sleep at all and I’ll pay for it at camp today, but it was completely worth it.”

  “You finally got her.” Knowing what he wanted had paid off.

  “Yep.” Jett laughed. “What’s up with you?”

  “Rayne lined up an interview for me. I told her I needed a job and she knew about one.”

  “Where?”

  “A place called Oakcrest. Get this: I’d be paid to sleep.”

  “No way.”

  “That’s what Rayne does, and I’d work the nights she doesn’t.”

  “I thought being paid to hoop was good. Paid to sleep—that’s unreal.”

  “Yeah. I’ll let you know how it goes. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  “Going bowling with Nora. Why don’t you ask someone and join us?”