Page 3 of Of Blood and Smoke

“Deal.”

We gained entry and started browsing, stopping to play a ring toss game we both lost, and then again to get our coveted fried dough from a greasy, rickety cart. Ashley got marinara, and I got powdered sugar.

Settling under fairy lights at a sticky picnic table, we quietly watched people for a couple minutes until Ashley broke the silence. “How’s your dad?”

She was a relatively new friend, the short distance between New Rochelle seemingly much too far when it came to navigating the traffic or train systems for my old friends to travel. People grew up, got married, moved for work, and had all the other things happen that separated adult friends when life got fully under way and they were closer to thirty than twenty. It was just too much trouble to keep in touch beyond sporadic texts and phone calls.

So, she knew most of the details about my father’s health, more so than anyone other than me and Melinda. I’d met her at the call center when I first started, and we’d hit it off. She was basically my best friend now.

“He’s hanging in there, doing the best he can,” I told her, wiping powdered sugar from my fingers. She’d seen him on days he was at his best as well as his worst, and they’d enjoyed each other’s company. “He told me to tell you hello the other day, but I forgot.”

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

Letting out a yawn, I stood up and lightly stretched my arms. “We should go wander around before I fall asleep.”

My friend gathered up our trash, crumpling it before tossing it in a waste bin. “I want to look at the jewelry,” she remarked.

We passed through couples and families, heading to the tables set up under open-air tents. Displays of necklaces and bracelets were dangling on boards with hooks, along with racks of rings and keychains. People milled about while we browsed and then we bumped into some of Ashley’s friends.

After smiling at them, I continued along the counter admiring the jewelry. “Della, come back.” Ashley waved to me. She gave the couple a hug before they wandered out onto the thoroughfare again.

Dutifully, I returned. “Karissa just gave me a link to a job application, we gotta apply.” She punched at her screen, sending me a copy of the link.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Think I just got it,” I mumbled, digging and seeing a notification. “Yep.”

I followed her outside and she sat on a wooden bench. “It's in the city, in Manhattan, but it pays much better than what we get now.”

“I think almost anything would. What is it?” Powdered sugar was stuck under one of my nails and I dug at it.

“Answering phones, data entry...” She trailed off, staring down and scrolling. She glanced up at me. “Like what we do now, but better working conditions and more money, looks like.”

That got my attention.

“Okay, I’ll apply.” Hope rose within me. The very thought of maybe not having to work two jobs always seemed like too much to imagine and yet still, I’d entertain the possibility every now and then. “I’ll do it when I get home.”

“Karissa and Mike both work there, and they said you can use them as references.”

“I don’t really know them. Are you sure that’s okay?” Ashley nodded, more focused on the screen in front of her than anything else. I vaguely remembered bumping into them somewhere once, with her.

Ashley flicked a glance at me before gesturing at her phone with a little laugh. “I’m in too deep now, sorry.”

I chuckled. “That’s okay, I get it. I’m going to run to the bathroom while you’re doing that. I’ll be right back.”

“Pee for me while you’re there?” she asked, grinning.

Giving her a thumbs-up, I replied, “I got your back.” Ashley laughed and returned to filling out the online form, and I started to make my way across the park toward the restrooms.

Both of us spent a good amount of time every week searching for better jobs. There wasn’t anything out there that we’d found so far. Every time one of us heard of a job, we let each other know and we both applied. We’d started saying “got your back” every single time and it became our catch phrase for nearly everything.

Often it felt like a waste of time filling out the applications, and we likely had hundreds of requests floating around in cyberspace.

As pointless as it probably would be, I knew I’d fill out the linked application she sent me when I got home. I had to keep trying. Every time I did, a fissure of hope would crack open inside me before rapidly resealing in despair over the lack of response. So far, we had only gotten call backs when it was a scam.

My thoughts turned back to my surroundings when I spotted a group dressed up as clowns, circus characters, and jesters just up ahead. One costumed man was juggling what looked like human heads while riding a unicycle. Another had a mask that looked like a skull as he roller skated around the group, lowering and spinning, before pretending like he was going to crash into the people walking by. I grinned at them, enjoying the creepy costumes.

Next, I spotted a court jester twirling a baton with bubbles shooting out of the ends and then a zombie nurse holding something on fire. I couldn’t tell what was burning, and I’d never know, because I darted to the side between a couple food trucks, not wanting to get in the way of the gathering crowd.

The festival’s light didn’t reach between the trucks. I turned my phone’s flashlight on right before I walked into a fence, nearly dropping my device at the barrier’s sudden appearance. It took a moment to figure out where I was in relation to thebathrooms, before remembering the facilities were near the end of the line.

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