Monday at work, and Kevin is everywhere I go. The worst part is how he makes it look so natural. Just a boss checking up on his employee, a mentor making sure his young employee stays on the straight and narrow.
I even take a job helping one of the guys shingle a roof just to get space from Kevin. Doesn’t work. Around lunchtime, he climbs the ladder and “asks” if I’d like to help him do the lunch run.
What can I say? I toss my stuff in a pile and climb down after him.
We get in the truck, and he talks nonstop. Sports. Celebrities. All unimportant. All to show me he’s got so much power he doesn’t have to talk about anything that matters.
I wish I could get mad. Rage could be my doorway to actually doing something. But I can’t get past the fear. I can’t find my righteous indignation. Kevin pulls up to a Greek restaurant, and we join the lineup. He takes off for the washroom, and I hold our place. There’s nothing to do, so I scan the restaurant and see Mrs. O’Toole. The bike-courier lady.
It’s a long shot, but I wonder if I could talk her into hiring me, giving me a chance. Maybe. I ask the guy behind me to hold my place, then book it over to her.
“Mrs. O’Toole.”
She looks up from her gyro. When she sees me, her expression makes me take a step back. I’d expected hesitation or maybe wariness. Irritation for sure—after all, I am interrupting her meal. But none of those emotions are in her eyes.
All I see is contempt.
“Yes?” She spits the question.
I’m confused. Last time I saw her she wasn’t impressed with me, but she didn’t despise me either. Now it’s different. The look on her face is the same one Dwayne the Dick had when he challenged me to steal the car. Like I am nothing. Like I am less than nothing.
She shifts away from me. Pulls her purse closer to her body.
Right. Because having a record suddenly means I’m liable to do all kinds of things. Like rob some woman in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you I got a job.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Her upper lip curls for a second. “How wonderful for you.”
Her tone implies the opposite.
I’m confused and angry. What’s with the attitude? But it seems stupid to pick a fight here. Besides, Kevin will be back soon, and the last thing I need is for him to see me talking with Mrs. O’Toole.
There’s nothing else to do, so I turn to walk away. Then I stop and spin back to her. “You’re a smart lady, Mrs. O’Toole.”
She frowns.
“I’d think you’d know the difference between screwing up and being a screwup. I’m one, not the other.” I walk away before she can answer.
I’m back in line when Kevin returns from the washroom. He scowls at the fact that I’m still not at the cashier. “What’s taking so long?”
I shrug. Then I have to get away. The room is suddenly smaller, hotter. My stomach’s rolling at the smell of onions and lamb. “Be back in a sec.”
He grabs my upper arm as I move away. “Where’re you going?”
“Bathroom. Geez.” I pull out of his grip. “A little late to worry about leaving me unattended, don’t you think?”
He has no answer, and I walk away. From the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. O’Toole watching us. There’s something about her posture that jacks my interest. I go toward the bathroom, but instead of going in I do a five count, then peer around the corner. Sure enough, she’s making her way over to Kevin. The crowd is my cover as I sneak back to them. I hover in the background and eavesdrop.
“—you made the right decision?”
I frown, certain Mrs. O’Toole isn’t questioning Kevin’s decision to have Greek for lunch.
“These kids need a second chance,” says Kevin. “That’s what I’m giving him.”
“I’m not arguing that,” she answers. “But in his case, I think you’re making a terrible decision.”
“Javvan? No. He’s a good kid. Just made a bad choice.”
“That’s what I thought too, until I talked to his probation officer.”
My insides turn to ice.
“She said Javvan’s the kind of kid who’ll only break his mother’s heart. She said it’s just a matter of time before he ends up back in the system. That any attempt to rehabilitate him is just a waste.”
She said. The words are clanging in my ears, drowning out all the noise of the crowd, the sizzle of meat on the grill.
“I’m not here to tell you how to run your business or who to hire,” she says, “but reconsider what you’re doing.”
“I thought about it, trust me.” Kevin’s words are smooth, and I hear the smile in his voice. “And believe me, I took Mary’s words into account. But I have to believe these kids can change. Javvan’s been a good kid. Works hard, shows up on time, pitches in.” He steps toward her. “I’ve lent him the truck to do food and supply runs, gotten him to pick up checks from clients. He’s never let me down.”
I can almost hear the clang of the jail door slamming shut. It’s a beautiful setup. He’s painted himself as the good guy. If anything goes wrong, I’m the one who’ll come off as deceitful and manipulative, not him. It’ll be me who abused his trust, played the mind games. He’ll be the regretful adult who tried to give some kid a second chance and got burned.
Mrs. O’Toole shakes her head. “I hope you’re right.”
Kevin turns sober. “Yeah.” he says, “Me too.”
And in that moment, I find the thing I’ve been looking for. My anger.