Page 4 of Unsupervised

A relieved smile bursts across her face. “It’s waiting at the library. You’re a lifesaver.”

Remee pops her head into the room. “Don’t forget your resume and the stuff we practiced.”

Remee not only helped me put together a resume, but spent a good hour giving me mock interview questions and tips to prepare for the job fair today. “I have it.” Turning to face her, I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Serena speaks up as she puts her shoes on. “Glitties is hiring.”

I don’t have any issue with her job but dressing in booty shorts and a glittery crop top to sling food doesn’t sound the least bit appealing. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’m…qualified.”

She grins as I nod toward her substantial chest. “Big boobs aren’t a requirement. Guys like little titties too, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Serena glances around the room. “We should have a little party this weekend. We haven’t had anyone over since we moved.”

Zara shrugs. “Fine by me. I’ll invite Graham and his friends.”

Serena gets to her feet and looks down at me. “Tomorrow night, okay? Invite whoever you want. And let me know what alcohol you want since I know you can’t buy it yet.”

It feels a little embarrassing to have to admit I don’t have anyone to invite. “I…um…haven’t really made any friends here yet.”

“You better mean other than us, or we’re going to be super offended,” Zara says, and all three of them regard me. I can’t help the wide smile that spreads across my face.

“Of course.”

“All right, then,” Serena says. “Let’s get today over with so we can get fucked up tomorrow night.”

Why not? The only thing I have to do tomorrow is attend the introductory session of the Adulting Club and it’s not supposed to be long.

The companies participating in the job fair are just setting up when I get to the library with Zara. A quick peek into that room at the number of tables offering applications gives me some hope of finding a job today. I see everything from restaurants seeking cooks and waitresses to warehouses and factories looking for workers. Surely, there will be something I can do.

“One hour,” Zara reminds me, steering me into a room down the hall. Brightly colored walls dance with children’s book characters, and the tables and chairs dotting the room are tiny. An upright piano sits against one wall and at the sight of it, I suddenly can’t wait to get my fingers on it.

“Is it alright if I practice a little?”

“Sure,” she replies. While she drags out a bunch of little cushions for the kids to sit on, I sit at the piano. The sheet music to the few songs she wants me to play is propped in front of me, and they couldn’t be easier. I’m a bit rusty so I play through them a couple of times before changing to an Ed Sheeran song.

When I finish, Zara is staring at me, but she isn’t the only one. A man leans on the door jamb with a smile on his face.

“Hey, you’re good,” Zara exclaims.

“Thanks for the tone of surprise,” I chuckle. The man doesn’t say anything, just lingers as I play another popular song. I assume he’s one of the parents of the kids now trickling into the room.

I wouldn’t know what to do with a room full of preschoolers, but Zara has no problem getting them organized and seated. They seem to love her as she talks and plays with them. She distributes hand puppets to all the kids and asks them if they’re ready to sing a few songs with the puppets.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this, but the next hour turns out to be a lot of fun. The kids love the music, and there’s something rewarding about seeing them react to it with such enthusiasm. The keys under my fingers feel so natural, and when the session is over, a wave of disappointment washes over me. Who knows when I’ll have another chance to play?

That feeling is compounded when two parents approach me in the hallway as I’m heading toward the lobby where the job fair is being held.

“Would you be interested in giving piano lessons to my older son? We’ve been searching for a teacher, but the only lessons offered in town are guitar,” the woman asks.

A man who walks up beside her nods and adds, “My wife and I have been looking for lessons for our daughter.”

It never occurred to me to give piano lessons, and as much as I’d love to do that, I have to disappoint them. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a piano or a place suitable to give lessons at the moment.”

“Would you be comfortable coming to my home?” the woman asks. “We live right in town.”

The man quickly seconds that idea.