A Miracle for Mackenzie - 3

            “If I need a job?” Several things went through my head. The first being that the note had been there for a long time, but then it looked fresh, the ink wasn’t smudged or faded. The second was that the nice, quiet man who had given me the tip had written the note specifically for me. Why would he do that? I tried to remember something about the man.

            I didn’t have time for this. I was running out of hot water. I went back towards the bathroom and dropped my clothes just outside the door. I stepped into the shower stall and doused my hair, before I realized it was still in a ponytail. I yanked the rubber band out and shampooed and rinsed as fast as I could. I was just about to start washing my body when the water started to cool off. It would be cold in thirty seconds. I’d have to wash up later. At least I had rinsed off. I turned the water off and stood there looking down at my belly. It was stretching so much. Who knew that skin was so elastic? Hopefully it would go back when the pregnancy was over. Would the skin hang loose and gross after Renee came? Oh jeez, just one more thing to think about.

            I pulled back the curtain and reached for a towel where I had installed a cheap ring rack.  I had three body towels to my name, a three pack at a discount store. They were already starting to deteriorate. The baby was going to need better towels. It was time to start a list, maybe pick up a few things, a little bit at a time, so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Buying stuff for the baby meant money would have to come out of my grocery and gas money. I’d have to eat more mac and cheese.

            I couldn’t very well wrap the towel around my body so I dried off and took my robe off the back of the door. Door hooks were an essential in a tiny apartment. I tied it and threw the towel over the shower rack. I had to use them several times before washing them since even doing laundry was a luxury at this point. Fortunately I had just done laundry, so all three towels were clean. That was something I could talk to Joy about. I bet she would let me come over once a week to do laundry at her house rather than go to the laundromat. Good thinking.

            I looked at the twenty dollar bill again. I tried to picture the guy who gave it to me, but I was so distraught over the news of being fired that I really wasn’t paying much attention to my patrons. He sat at the counter. That much I knew, because all of the other waitresses had willingly given up their shifts at the counter for me. Less walking around. I had only been at Pepper’s for about four months and hadn’t gotten close to any of the other waitresses, but they had all been so nice to me. I had actually enjoyed the job too, when I wasn’t completely wiped out with exhaustion.

            I looked at the bill again. Was the message really meant for me? The guy was nice enough to give me a good tip. Maybe he did write the note for me. What was the harm in finding out? But what if he was some kind of wacko? Or a pimp? Ok, now I was getting ridiculous. I was seven months pregnant, what kind of pimp would be offering me a job?

            I brought my cell phone to the window where the reception was best. I didn’t have a land line and kept the cell phone so I had a phone. I had changed my plan to be the cheapest possible. I never got calls, so it didn’t matter that my minutes were so few. Jason didn’t have the number, so he didn’t call it.

            I dialed the number that was on the bill. Before the second ring, a pleasant sounding woman answered and said, “Arlington Press, this is Barbie, how can I help you?”

            “Barbie?” I said before I could shut my big mouth.

            “Yes?”

            “Umm,” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t plan on what to say. “My name is Mackenzie Dalton. I got this number…I know this sounds strange, but I got this number off of a twenty dollar bill that a gentleman left for me as a tip. See, I’m a waitress…”

            “Mackenzie, Mr. Riley said that if you should call, to come down and fill out an employment application.”

            “Mr. Riley? Is he the one who…”

            “Yes, dear. If you have a resume, you may bring that with you, but don’t worry if you don’t.”

            “Ok. But what is Arlington Press?”

            “I’ll explain it all to you when you come down. I need to take another call.” She spouted out the address and told me she would be there until five. I hung up looking at the phone. A job? I was offered a job just like that? Well, I didn’t have it yet technically, but the offer was there. And he obviously knew I was far along in my pregnancy. A press company? As in printing press or publishing press? I wasn’t familiar with the company, but I was with the street. It was in a semi-industrial area about four miles away.

            I rummaged through my meager closet of clothes and decided to wear a black blouse that draped over my belly in pretty lines. The sleeves were little butterfly shapes. I only had black skirts with stretchy waist bands. I pulled a clean one out of the closet. What was I going to do about clothes for me once the baby came? Everything was going to be too big. I supposed I could just get fat so I could still wear them. That was an option. Not a very appealing one, but still. I put a brushed through my still damp hair and pulled it into a ponytail. I looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink. I needed makeup. Just a touch of it, to offset the paleness.

            After that I gathered my bag, cell phone and car keys. Outside was sweltering. And it was only June. It was going to be an intensely hot and sticky summer. The Camry started right up and I rubbed my hand across the dashboard. “Good girl.”

            I drove to the street, glancing at my gas gauge which was almost half a tank. At one point I was sure the car was excellent on gas but with all the miles on her engine, she wasn’t as good anymore, but still, not bad. I found the number of the building. 1125. It was a blond brick building with no windows. The parking lot to the right had about twenty to twenty-five cars parked in it. I found a spot up close because most of the cars were parked close to the tree line away from the building. Although there was a double set of doors at the middle of the building on that side, there was a sign posted in front of my spot indicating that the main entrance and visitors were to go around to the other side. I walked the paved path and felt the sweat beading up on my brow and under my clothes just in the short distance.

            There was a single glass door with the words Arlington Press spread across the front. There was a vestibule with a small sliding glass window to the right. A young blond girl, not much older than twenty slid the window opened.

            “May I help you?” She asked.

            “Are you Barbie?” I asked.

            The girl laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat and moved her hand away. “No. Do you have an appointment with her?”

            “Kind of. She told me to come down and see her.”

            “What is your name?”

            “Mackenzie Dalton.”

            The girl shut the window and picked up the phone on her desk. I could hear her through the glass. “Mackenzie Dalton is here to see you.” In a split second she had hung up the phone, used her head to indicate the interior door and a released the door lock. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open. There was a counter space to the right where the girl swirled her chair around and said, “Wait here. Barbie will be along in a minute.” She went back to whatever it was she was doing at her desk. Her phone rang and she answered, “Arlington Press.”

            I wondered why she didn’t answer my call earlier. In less than a minute, a well dressed woman in a two piece suit of a slim black skirt and a lilac jacket with four pearl buttons down the front came around the corner. Her hair was crisp blond and cut in a stylish short wedge that hugged her face. She either wore little makeup or was such an expert at applying it that you could barely tell she was wearing any. She wore high black pumps that looked so new that she could have just bought them. Her legs were lean and muscular and so tanned that I couldn’t tell if she was wearing nylons or not. Despite the fact that she looked amazing, she was clearly in her early forties. She held out a hand for me to shake.