Chapter 3

I was on a Facetime call with my family because it was a Sunday. We set aside Sunday as a day to stay in touch because they are busy throughout the week and exhausted by the time they get home in the evenings. They attend church on Sunday mornings because they are Catholic, which is OK. After all, we have an afternoon call because I don't get up early on Sundays. To be exact, noon. 

My dad, not my mother, is the one who gave me curly hair. Nevertheless, he keeps his hair short enough so that only a few waves are left. The exact shade of brown hair is thick and curly on my mother. They appear youthful for someone in their late forties, but that is only the result of our Portuguese skin naturally aging. Thanks be to God.

I don't relish becoming older. I feel as though I haven't even begun to live. Actually, no. My parents were immigrants who made a meager wage as custodians my entire life.

My brother is a selfish person, though. When he was 16 years old, he had an affair with a girl, which caused my catholic mother to sob for days. He and the girl broke up, but he still sees my niece, Lily, so they continue to live with my parents. They help out because he's only 19 and has a daughter who is three years old.

I adore my niece dearly. I feel like my brother could do more to help since he was the one who got a girl pregnant so early and considerably increased our living expenses. Given that we have her for half the week and she for the other, the mother is a piece of work, and child support is higher than I think is fair. 

Lily was currently waving at me on the phone's screen. Those big cheeks are adorable. I waved back, saying, "I miss you, baby, so much." When I say I miss her or love her, I say "so much" because she says "much".

She glanced away from the TV at something, leaped off my mother's lap, and vanished from view. My father referred to it as "the cartoons." 

"So, did Andrea return home safely? The journey in general?" I was inquiring about my aunt (Andrea), who had come to visit family from Portugal by plane. She constantly has a complaint, I notice. "Merda (stuff)" My dad sent his sister on her way. I laughed, but my mother only shook her head.

The question "Where is Dickson?" My mum immediately defended him as always, and my dad scoffed. "Sleeping. She lied and said, "The baby woke him up in the night. 

After a brief exchange, they cut off the phone because Lily complained about hunger. We all exchanged "Saudades"s with one another. Missing you 

My bedroom is relatively compact. I have a twin-sized mattress that was provided with the room and does not belong to me. A nightstand and a half-closet where I've crammed all of my possessions. I'm done now. There isn't even a fashionable bed frame. Just the mattress and box spring were covered in camouflage sheets. I have no idea how that got there.

I believe the person who slept there before me left behind sheets and other items, including a little fan that had recently been useful for the summer. The one window that faced the foot of my bed was covered with white blinds. I tell my parents everything is lovely since they treated me so poorly for migrating here that they would otherwise demand that I return home.

I desired to be independent. I've been protected since I was in charge of many things as a kid. When we didn't have a babysitter, and my grandfather was in and out of the hospital, I would do something like watch my brother and constantly clean the house to relieve the stress on my parents, who worked very hard. 

Due to his strictness and mine, my father forbade me from dating boys in high school or going to the mall or the movies. When I was older, around 18, and they loosened slightly, that was the rarest of times. 

Since my dad's catchphrase is "You live under my roof, you live under my rules," not living under his roof at the time allowed me to try new things that I had been too terrified to do even a few months earlier. 

I was overjoyed when Brian asked me to visit Denton. After dating for a year, he changed colleges. He had me move out here with little else in mind because neither he nor I wanted our relationship to end. It's unsettling, yet life goes on.

Voices in the kitchen could be heard when I exited my bedroom through a propped open door. There was only one. On the phone, Rose. The bedroom door for Amar and Annabel  was shut. That can imply that they are inside or not at home. All of us tend to keep our doors closed. 

Everybody had a cabinet with their kitchenware, and there were allocated places in the fridge for stuff we bought for ourselves. There is a common area where we occasionally leave things for grabs. 

Since I was raised in a Portuguese-speaking environment, I can attest to the importance of food in fostering friendships and politeness. When someone approaches, you extend an offer of food. Since we shared everything, I had to learn how things were run when I arrived. I comprehend why they do it. It is done to avoid disputes or people not helping with shopping. 

Rose held her phone in her left hand and was frying an egg. She waved at me briefly as her eyes slid to the side to check who had just entered the kitchen. I remained silent as she finished her call and checked the refrigerator to see what I had. 

I really must go grocery shopping. I must get a job immediately. I brought some money I had saved up, but when that runs out, I will have nothing. Denton has relatively high rent, so even with a subpar setup like this, you still have to fork over a few hundred dollars.

Even the pleasantest portion of Denton wasn't where I was. I was on the route connecting Denton with a neighboring city close to the borders of Cambridge and Somerville. 

I'd already had five interviews. One, despite my polite email requesting to be notified whether or not I got the position, I never heard back from you. Three more called and told me they had received my résumé, but the parts had already been filled. 

I was still waiting to hear about the previous one. I've prayed to no God roughly 80 times while keeping my fingers crossed. It's coming down to the wire now. 

I would eat cereal because it was inexpensive when I discovered I had no milk. I could steal from my roommates, but our trust and honor system is just that. To have a successful living situation, we must remember that we are almost strangers. 

I toasted the final piece of bread I had taken off my shelf. Since I had nothing to put on this awful bread, I'm grateful that Rose passed me over the butter she had used to line her pan. I must go shopping, but my first month of rent is almost due. 

I can't believe a month has already passed since I arrived. Time whizzed by.

After hanging up the phone, Rose took her eggs and sat on our table-turned-kitchen island. Although it was modest, it served as the only storage space. She murmured, "Hey, girlie," while resting her chin in her hand. I softly said, "Hello." 

Rent is, therefore, payable on January 1. What are we doing here, May?" she asked, searching the room for her phone, which wasn't on the counter. I squeaked out "26th" almost in whispers. It's been four days. Rent, groceries, and a bus pass are the options. I'll have to walk everywhere for the time being. Dammit, I need a job.

"How did your first month here go for you?" She talked inanely. She must be enjoying her day. She keeps to herself a lot. I wanted to shout about how much I was struggling, but my family was never one where we voiced such complaints when I was growing up. So I worked in secret and nodded. "Adjusting." 

I was waiting to start freaking out tomorrow. I would, if necessary, apply to damned Burger King if this last job didn't call by tomorrow. I require cash. Fast. I took out my phone and once more began searching for local employment on Google. Although this has become a daily routine since moving here and looking for a job, it merits another look.

Rose wore a huge flannel blouse with nothing underneath and black leggings with ripped knees. It was large, exposing her small shoulder and a portion of her chest.

She abruptly said, "I broke up with that loser. I could rent this room because of Rose, a.k.a. Brian's friend's girlfriend. I asked, "You did?!" For whatever reason, I was taken aback. I don't understand their relationship well enough to comment. 

"Yeah, I simply became bored. It may be just me, but I can't date someone for over two years before getting bored. Right now, her golden hair was pulled back into an unkempt bun. So was mine, but mine has a lot more hair. 

I sighed and said, "Well if there wasn't any spark," agreeing. "Sparks only last for the first few months. Then people get lazy, don't they?" She prompted me. She has a tongue piercing, so when she speaks to me, I always find myself staring at it. 

She had me looking up from her tongue. I was ashamed to admit I was 20 and had only dated one guy, Brian, because of my strict parents and everything.

"How long have you two been dating?" She made me laugh. "About a year. I shrugged, "Really, a year and a half...well, he didn't exactly 'label' us for a long, so I'm not sure where to date that day. 

"Exactly, boys these days are like that. 0 championships. Nuf said. I want to engage in hot sex with multiple people. She said I'm not sorry that I ended my relationship with him, and I even nodded more firmly than she did. 

Have you and your boyfriend had hot sex? Rose questioned me directly. My skin turned crimson, and I felt flames coming from my face. You're shy, I see. She laughed when she realized she had embarrassed me. "Um, yeah," I scowled, "I think." What in the world am I even supposed to compare it to? 

She looked perplexed, but I quickly looked down when my phone rang. A notification by email. I shoved the last bread in my mouth and muttered, "Excuse me, I need to go take this," before running to my bedroom. 

I applied for the position. The fact that they responded on a Sunday surprised me, but they are workaholics. I opened the email and just stood there looking at it.

Dear Samanthaarina Joao,

Unfortunately, we will have to reject your application because you are not qualified for the administrative post. We are grateful that you looked into our business.

I'm wishing you success; it is BDM & Toolzfield.

How in the world am I supposed to handle this? I was so angry that I started crying. Underqualified? I hold a general studies associate's degree. I didn't believe the business required a bachelor's degree for an administrative job. I brushed away my tears in complete panic but also in complete annoyance. I need to pay my rent, my phone bill is due, and I have no damn groceries. 

I've been pushed right up against a cliff here. I'll be falling to my death in the event of one false breeze. I want to work. Anything.