Page 57 of Homebound
“Did something happen?”
“Did something happen?” the girl repeated automatically.
“Yes, did something happen to make you come home early?”
As if floodgates busted open by a torrent of anger, disappointment, and crushed expectations, Lenna jumped to her feet and spread her arms wide. “Yes! They closed the sewing school! Until further notice!”
Gemma set the beans and cornmeal on the table. “Why?”
“The sewing factory just informed the City that they will not be hiring. They plan to lay off half of their current workers. Oh, what am I going to do? What am I going to tell mom and dad?”
The blow seemed to have aged the girl in the span of one morning. She looked haggard and much older than her fourteen years, with sallow skin and oily blond hair that in this dreary light appeared gray. And she looked terrifyingly like Herise, down to the defined folds that ran from her nose to the corners of her mouth. She was much too young to have any creases on her face, yet the burden of poverty, the heavy pressure to grow up fast and start providing were wearing out this girl’s fresh prettiness well before her time.
“They may not have to do it yet,” Gemma heard herself say. The news was grim for Leena, for the McKinleys, and for herself who was harboring similar plans to follow the seamstress path. “They say stuff like this all the time and things turn out not to be so bad.”
“It’s true, Gemma. Why would they close the sewing school? Other girls say it may reopen but I know it won’t. There’s no fabric to be had in the City. Southern regions are reduced to rubble by conflicts with Perali. Cotton fields lay barren, everybody knows it. The polyester factory burned down. What good is a seamstress when there’s nothing to sew?”
“Something will be done. People need to have clothes.”
Leena laughed hysterically. “People need to have food, too, and we don’t see it magically appear just because we’re hungry. God, Gemma, you’re so naive, you just don’t get it. We’re screwed.”
“Don’t say that. Your mother wouldn’t approve of your language.”
“No, she wouldn’t. But what can she do? What can any of you do now?” Her eyes filled with tears. “She and dad paid and paid for my training, and I stitched and hemmed and tacked, and now the school’s closed! They didn’t even let us graduate to get the certificates. Oh, and with dad so sick…”
She dissolved into a mess of hot tears and hiccuping sobs, and Gemma had no choice but to wrap her arms around Leena’s shoulders to let her cry. She’d never felt any affinity to her cousin, chiefly because Leena always went out of her way to belittle Gemma and make her feel unwelcome, but today her heart broke for the poor girl.
Despite having all the advantages of being born in the City, Leena’s chances in life were suddenly reduced to those of the migrant girl who was now wearing Gemma’s old coat. Equal non-opportunities.
After the worst of Leena’s weeping had subsided, Gemma made her warm milk with honey, knowing she’d have to explain the frivolous snack to Aunt Herise. The girl looked so forlorn that for the sake of a distraction Gemma invited her to accompany her on the trip to the hospital with Uncle Drexel.
“What’s there for me to do?” Leena asked without enthusiasm.
“You can meet Dr. Delano. He has awesome pictures of aliens in his office.”
“I don’t care about no dirty aliens. They can all rot.”
“You can see for yourself what nurses do, talk to them about their work.”
That got Leena’s attention. Despite the uncertain future of her nursing training, she was still interested.
Together, they quickly prepared a light meal for her father before going to his doctor’s appointment. Leena was too scared to tell Drexel about the abrupt end of her seamstress training in case he freaked out and made his condition worse. She and Gemma deemed it best to break the news to Herise later tonight and let her pass it on to her husband.
“Why are you home so early, Leena?” Drexel asked after he ate, suddenly realizing something was outside the norm.
“They let us out early today,” was Leena’s curt reply and, concerned with little outside his pain and disability, he didn’t question her further.
Gemma and Leena took turns pushing Uncle Drexel in his buggy down the streets to the hospital. Their route cut through parts of downtown.
The streets teemed with people. Many carried large sacks loaded with belongings. A campfire burned right on the sidewalk to provide warmth to an impromptu encampment around it, people huddled close together against the cold. And everywhere there were long lines of people waiting.
Gemma wondered out loud what kind of services they were seeking.
“Services?” Uncle Drexel scoffed. “They are looking for work. See there, it’s a plumbing company office. These people are looking to place their applications in.”
“How will they know if they’re hired? There are no communication lines,” Leena inquired.
“They come back every day to check. You should see what’s happening at the docks. Every lousy migrant thinks the docks should hire them.”
