6

Lauren

I’m drinking a beer with Eve at a restaurant and bar called The Blue. It’s pretty cool, styled like an old-school New York City deli. With a long and high counter lined with red leather stools and dark wooden booths on the main restaurant floor, it’s the kind of place to relax. I enjoy the comfort of my surroundings as Eve chats about a woman and her three kids who came into the Center this morning. The woman’s husband, who’d randomly dropped into their home during the week for check-ins, physically abused her. The cycle was endless—until she came to Eve for help.

“Have you filed the restraining orders?” I flip my hair to the side and immediately feel oil gathered by my roots. Whatever. I can add it to my list of Things Gone to Shit in the last two days.

“Yes, of course I filed them. But you know,” she continues, straightening her black tank top, “I can seriously use some help. It’s crazy busy, and sometimes, I get so bogged down in filing the necessary legal paperwork that I don’t have enough time to spend with these women. I need to do more than the legalities, but I don’t have the hours.”

An idea sparks. “What about clothes?”

“Clothes?” Eve’s face spells confusion.

“Well, I bet a lot of these women are trying to get back on their feet. They need to interview but don’t have the right wardrobe. Everyone knows that dressing the part is half the battle for both confidence and getting the job. While I’m here, I can work on that.”

“I love that idea!” she exclaims.

“Oh, you know what else?” I’m excited! “A haircut. I mean, imagine how these women must feel after the abuse they’ve endured. A fresh cut would give them that quick boost. I can speak to some stylists in the area. Maybe I can arrange for someone to come once a week.”

“Brilliant idea.” Eve claps her hands together. “I’ll handle the legal elements, but you can handle the personal ones. We’ve always made the best team, right?” Her eyes shine, genuinely.

“Too bad I’m only here for two weeks.” I shrug. “Luckily, I did as you said and requested three. Jonathan negotiated down, obviously. I’m just praying this break will be enough to get me back on my feet again.”

“Maybe you won’t go back to him at all. Crier is toxic. And, at the Center, you can use all your skills to actually better people’s lives. Great for the résumé when you go back to California. Imagine what we can do together.” She raises her hands together in prayer.

“But …” I sigh, trying to figure what I should say. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay here longer, but I’m just not ready to throw down and quit work and tell my landlord I won’t be back. It would be a huge change.”

“Let’s use these few weeks as a trial run.”