Page 2 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper

Chloe

Twenty-five years later

Junior year is important, but I don’t want you to stress out about it over the summer, okay?

” Chloe said to Xander, the student on the other side of her desk.

He had come in on the last day of school to talk to her, because he had to work at his family’s restaurant this summer but was stressed about not doing enough to prepare for college applications.

“Your dedication to your family is going to show, and admissions officers will recognize and appreciate it.”

“Are you sure, Ms. Quinn?”

“Positive. Look at it this way— I respect and admire you a lot, and that’s all based on stuff you’ve told me about your life, right? So just keep doing what you’re doing, and then when it comes time to apply to college, I’ll help you with your essays.”

Xander wriggled in his seat, looking unsure.

To counter that, Chloe sat taller. Even though she was petite, her superpower was a smile that made her seem bigger than she was.

Her penchant for bright clothes helped, too; today, a puff-sleeved red blouse provided a striking contrast against her straight dark hair, and her multilayered yellow skirt spread out like the petals of a buttercup.

“You’ll tell those admissions officers about how brave your parents were for coming to a new country.

How you’ve helped them since you were young, and how you’ve learned so much about running a business.

How, by being a waiter, you overcame your anxiety because you had to interact with the customers, and how these experiences have prepared you to take on all the new challenges that college will bring.

You’re an amazing young man, Xander. You’ve got nothing to worry about. ”

It was true, too. Chloe had worked with Xander a lot this year, since he’d needed some extra care and mentoring.

He was the first in his family to have a chance at going to college, and she had met with him for sessions twice a week to check in, listen to whatever was on his mind, or just be a reassuring adult presence while he got caught up on homework.

He was a great kid, and any university would be lucky to have him.

Xander blushed and looked down at his hands. “Wow… thank you. You really think that? You always make me feel better.”

They sat there for another minute, though, in silence. Unlike the other guidance counselors, who liked to quickly wrap up their sessions with their students, Chloe had learned that kids often had something else they wanted to say if you gave them enough space and time to bring it up. So she waited.

A few seconds later, Xander cleared his throat. “Um, Ms. Quinn? Before I go… Do you think, uh, I could have one of your yellow roses? You know, like, for good luck over the summer.”

“Of course.” Chloe beamed as she reached for a stack of origami paper.

Years ago, during college, she had fallen in love with the art.

She was a quarter Japanese—her great-grandparents had actually been in the internment camp at Rohwer, Arkansas—and Chloe loved origami not only for its elegant simplicity but also as a small way to connect with her heritage.

“Pick your paper,” Chloe said as she fanned out the stack. Every sheet was square and yellow, but in varying patterns—chartreuse with tiny birds, mellow daisy yellow made up of spirals, gold speckled with stars, butter yellow covered in smiley faces, and more.

Xander’s fingers hovered as he thought over his selection.

“This one,” he said, plucking a sheet of electric yellow in geometric, art deco lines.

“I love it.” Chloe took the paper from him, but before she began folding, she wrote a message in the center of the paper.

This was what she was known for among the students—making sure they always left her office with encouragement not only in their hearts but in their pockets as well.

Because, sometimes, it was easier to remember that people believed in you when you could see it.

All you have to do is be YOU , she wrote for Xander, finishing it off with her signature doodle of a very tiny rosebud shaped like a heart. Then, as he watched, she deftly transformed the square of paper into a three-dimensional flower—a yellow rose, which symbolized friendship and joy.

Xander perked up in his chair as he held the paper flower in his hand.

Chloe loved this part of her job. Xander had been slouched and despondent when he entered her office half an hour ago, and now his eyes sparkled again, a young man looking forward to summer with his family without the burdens of the shoulds and what-ifs that he’d been carrying.

He smiled as he got up. “Thanks, Ms. Quinn. I hope you have a great summer.”

“You, too, Xander. See you in a couple months, okay?”

Not two minutes after Xander left, there was another knock at Chloe’s office door.

Rob Petrunin, the principal, leaned in her doorway like an old, overgrown beanstalk gone gristly with age, salt-and-pepper stubble shadowing his face and gray hair sticking out at his temples as if the school year had finally gotten to him at the very end.

Despite the heat, he wore his usual starched white shirt, sweater-vest, and wool slacks, and his tie was choked tight against his neck.

Rob wrinkled his nose at the handful of paper roses that were scattered on Chloe’s desk.

He’d never liked her approach of treating her students as adults and telling them to consider her their friend when they needed advice.

“Hi, Chloe. Was that your last meeting of the school year?”

“It was. I’m going to miss the kids over the summer.”

“Yeah, about that…” Rob reached over and helped himself to a Jolly Rancher from her candy dish. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ve had some budget cuts in the district, and I’m afraid I have to let you go.”

She blinked at him. “I’m sorry… what?”

The plastic wrapper crinkled loudly as he popped the candy into his mouth. “The thing is, we have three counselors here, and I think we can make do with two. It’ll be more efficient.”

Chloe’s stomach plummeted, and she had to fight the urge to fall with it and hide under her desk.

“B-but what am I supposed to do?” If the budget cuts were district-wide, that meant she wasn’t the only counselor in New York being let go.

There would be very few job openings for her to apply to, if any.

“I’m sure you’ll get something.” Rob looked again at her origami flowers. “Maybe art classes or nannying. You were always a little… soft with the students here. You might find your skills are actually better suited to an adjacent field.”

Chloe had no words.

“Anyway,” Rob said, “I’m sure you’ll land on your feet. You’re a diligent worker. It’s been great having you on staff these last two years.” He swiped two more Jolly Ranchers from her dish and left.

Chloe gaped at the empty space where Rob had just destroyed her life in five glib minutes. And then she looked at the empty chair across her desk, where Xander had sat not long ago.

She wouldn’t be here, like she’d promised, when he and all his classmates returned for the next school year.

She wouldn’t be here to help them with their schedules, with choosing which vocational schools or colleges were right for them, or to let them unburden their troubles about their friends and romances and their lives outside the school walls.

She couldn’t give them encouragement to keep in their pockets.

As Chloe packed up her office—the senior photos her students had given her, the yearbook all the kids had signed, and the stacks of yellow origami paper she always kept on hand—she tried to hold herself together. But then she realized no one was there anymore.

So she let it all go, and she cried.

New York had always been a lonely place despite all the people.

When Chloe first moved here, she’d thought she would never feel alone in a sea of so many faces.

But it turned out that isolation and loneliness were different things—you could spend your days watching kids laughing together in the halls or families picnicking in the park, yet still come away from it feeling lonely because you didn’t have those kinds of people in your life.

On her way home, it all seemed even worse, as if isolation and loneliness had now conspired to amplify their effect.

All Chloe could see was how turned inward everybody was.

Maybe it was because Rob had laid her off so callously, but everywhere Chloe looked, people rushed past each other as if no one else mattered, like they were simply extras in a movie that featured one—and only one—actor.

A man walking into a sandwich shop let the door drop shut after him, instead of holding it open for the mom with two kids in a double stroller who was two steps behind.

A young woman on the subway didn’t get up to allow an older man on crutches to sit down.

And everywhere, everyone was focused on their phones, supposedly engaged but all haunted by a glazed loneliness in their eyes.

She really needed someone to talk to. But she was alone in an enormous city.

So, aware of the irony, she pulled out her phone and opened up the text conversation with Zac Billings, a British guy she’d been seeing for about six weeks.

He wasn’t her boyfriend—Chloe wasn’t ready to be exclusive and put a label on things—but they saw each other once or twice a week and that was good enough for now.

Chloe: Hey… bad news

Zac: What happened?

Chloe: I got laid off

Zac: WHAT?

Chloe: I didn’t see it coming. I mean, I knew there were going to be budget issues… but I didn’t think it would hit us. Those kids need more caring adults in their lives, not fewer.

Zac: I’m so sorry, Chloe.

Chloe: Can I see you tonight?

Zac: Ugh, I wish I could. But I have the Steinbrenner dinner. I can come over afterward? It’ll be late though

Chloe: No, it’s fine

Zac: You’ll be all right?

Chloe: I’ve… lost important things before.

Zac: ??