— Are you ready for this? Sarah inquired, her gaze thoughtfully assessing Eleanor in the hallway.
Eleanor inhaled deeply, then released the breath slowly, offering a resolute nod. She genuinely cherished their new neighborhood in Logan Square—a small yet inviting apartment, friendly corner stores, and streets shaded by mature trees, bustling with the vibrant hum of daily life. Chicago itself felt like a vast, living entity, a breathing beast brimming with unwritten customs and rhythms that she was still diligently striving to comprehend. All she truly required was a measure of tenacious resolve and unwavering patience to truly transform it into her permanent home.
She subtly slipped her hand into the pocket of her blazer, her fingers closing around the small glass vial of calming lavender oil she had carefully placed there. Just two more hours until the interview. Perhaps, just perhaps, today might finally prove to be her fortunate day.
Eleanor’s nerves were stretched taut, like finely tuned violin strings. This potential employment wasn’t merely about her own well-being; it was intrinsically linked to Lily’s future as well. She recognized the imperative to push beyond the creeping tendrils of fear and concentrate wholly on the task at hand.
— So, what kind of job is it? Sarah asked, deftly popping a stick of gum into her mouth.
— Assistant manager, Eleanor replied. — It’s for a company that distributes groceries to various local stores. It seems they’re quite eager for new staff, so they’re hiring rather quickly.
— Is the pay decent? Sarah inquired. She herself wasn’t actively seeking employment; her parents were still working and provided financial assistance to cover her and Noah’s expenditures.
— They indicated it’s a sufficient starting wage, Eleanor stated, her voice carrying an undertone of uncertainty. — If they don’t increase the salary later on, I’ll unfortunately have to continue my job search.
— Don’t cease your looking now, Sarah advised, the gum snapping audibly between her teeth. — Always ensure you have a contingency plan.
Eleanor nodded in acknowledgment, although the concept of actively seeking other opportunities before even securing this one felt inherently disloyal, as if she were already betraying a future employer she hadn’t even met.
She bent down to fasten the laces of her sneakers, then gently pressed a kiss onto Lily’s cheek. Turning her gaze toward Sarah, a profound wave of gratitude washed over her.
— I honestly don’t know what I would do without you, Eleanor expressed with heartfelt sincerity. — You are an absolute lifesaver.
— Girl, you offer me a helping hand too, Sarah grinned, extending a peppermint candy from her purse toward Eleanor.
Eleanor carefully tucked the sweet into her blazer pocket, placing it alongside the lavender oil—her personal talismans for the day. The impending interview loomed large, a high-stakes encounter whose outcome remained utterly unpredictable.
Over the past two months, she had endured a dozen interviews. Two academic degrees, a substantial record of professional experience, and yet—nothing tangible. Only one company had bothered to follow up, simply to inform her that she wasn’t a suitable fit. Each rejection, a tiny shard, chipped away at her resilience, supplanted by an escalating sense of panic. But she absolutely could not permit fear to triumph. She had to maintain her composure for Lily’s sake.
Fifteen minutes later, Eleanor was seated on a CTA bus, its destination the Blue Line route. Another ten minutes elapsed, and she transferred trains at the Clark/Lake station. The corporate office was situated downtown, a considerable journey that, surprisingly, didn’t daunt her. She would readily sacrifice hours of her day for the fundamental opportunity to provide for her cherished daughter. There was no trust fund awaiting her, no affluent relatives to lean upon—only her own relentless drive and ingenuity.
Checking her wristwatch, a subtle sense of calm settled over her. She possessed ample time to procure a quick beverage before the scheduled interview. Coffee was unequivocally out of the question—far too prone to inducing jitters. A soothing cup of tea would be perfectly adequate.
On the train, Eleanor meticulously re-examined the contents of her bag. Her resume, a list of references, her identification—all present and accounted for. She exhaled softly, her gaze drifting toward the other passengers. They appeared so unburdened, absorbed in their phone screens, seemingly oblivious to the pressure of a make-or-break interview.
A half-hour later, she disembarked at the Monroe station and immediately identified the sleek, modern office building situated directly across the thoroughfare. With a comfortable thirty minutes remaining before her appointment, she ducked into a nearby Starbucks. After ordering a calming chamomile tea, she found a quiet corner table and gazed absently out the window. Chicago pulsed with an unyielding energy—the insistent honking of cabs, the hurried pace of pedestrians, a city indifferent to her personal struggles. In her brief tenure here, she had assimilated one incontrovertible truth: no one simply hands you anything. Except, of course, Sarah. Thank goodness for Sarah.
Sipping her warm tea, Eleanor mentally rehearsed her carefully crafted pitch. She would be sure to highlight her consistent achievement of top performer bonuses at her previous employment with a Springfield grocery chain, and the additional incentives she had earned for consistently surpassing sales targets. Surely, these accomplishments had to carry some significant weight. She opened her eyes, her gaze once again drawn to the street outside, when something abruptly captured her attention. Directly across the street, on a sweltering August afternoon, with the humid air thick and oppressively heavy, an elderly gentleman suddenly clutched his chest and slowly slumped against a weathered brick wall.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Eleanor tossed a few dollars onto the table, abandoning her tea, and bolted out of the café. Skillfully dodging the chaotic flow of downtown traffic, she swiftly reached the man, who was evidently in profound distress. Passersby continued their hurried movements, not even sparing a fleeting glance in his direction. Eleanor’s heart sank, a bitter taste rising in her mouth at the city’s stark indifference.
— Hey, are you alright? she urgently inquired, kneeling beside him. He emitted a faint groan, his hand still tightly clutching a manila folder. She gently moved it aside and carefully loosened his tie. Retrieving a water bottle from her bag, she brought it to his parched lips.
The oppressive August heat was truly brutal, the pavement beneath them radiating a palpable warmth. It was no surprise, she mused, that he had collapsed.
— Pills… in my briefcase, he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.