A woman answered, hair pulled in an iron gray bun. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Come in, dear,” she said. “Come in.”
Lulu was my first case worker. She did my intake, made sure I got a hot meal, and showed me my bed in the corner. It wasn’t much, just a thin mattress on a flimsy frame, but I was so tired then, so worn out and drained, that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
After a hot breakfast the next day, I took a deep breath, looking Lulu in the eye.
“I’ll do anything to stay alive,” I said slowly. “I just … I can’t let someone find me.”
The elderly woman nodded knowingly.
“I know, honey,” she said. “A lot of women come here with issues, and I promise, we’ll figure them out. Maybe not all at once, but we’ll disentangle it soon enough. Now let’s talk about services and getting you on your feet. Have you applied for food stamps? Cash assistance? Anything?”
I shook my head miserably.
“No never,” I choked. “I worked as a secretary back home.”
Lulu’s eyes lit up.
“That’s great!” she said. “There’s lots of openings for good, honest secretaries. And you look like the type of girl who can take direction.” She leaned forwards, voice hushed. “You know it’s the ladies who want to be movie stars that have it hard. They want to audition for commercials, do head shots, all that kind of stuff. But this here is a women’s shelter,” she said regretfully. “We’re not a talent agency.”
I nodded slowly.
“No, I’m not looking to be an actress,” I said. “I’m a secretary and maybe,” I paused hopefully, “An editor? I’ve done some copy editing before, maybe there’s someone who needs that?”
Lulu wrote it all down, nodding with assurance.
“I’m sure editing is helpful, the more skills you have, the more marketable you are to any employer,” she said. “Now who did you work for?”
“Just a law firm back east,” I said quickly. “I transcribed notes, and did all sorts of admin work.”
Lulu clucked approvingly.
“And how about the editing? Did you edit legal briefs?” she asked, pen poised above the intake sheet.
“No, not exactly,” I said, shaking my head. “I edited for a famous author, one who writes crime novels, but I can’t say who it is,” I choked. “It’s confidential.”
Lulu cocked her head at me.
“Did you sign a confidentiality agreement? Is that what’s stopping you? Because the more specifics we include on your resume, the better.”
I paused again, eyes tearing. Why was Robert haunting me now? Why did his long shadow have to extend three thousand miles, putting me in a bind even after I’d sought to escape?
So I tried to make the best of it.
“No, no confidentiality agreement,” I said slowly. “I just don’t think this author wants his name out. He’s really famous and private about that kind of thing, so I think it’s better if I don’t say.”
Lulu nodded, eyes understanding.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know. Seeing a famous name on there is sometimes a big attention-getter, especially if they can be your reference.”
I shook my head miserably.
“No, I don’t think he’d be my reference. I didn’t leave on great terms.”
That was the understatement of the year, but Lulu took it in a stride.
“No worries,” she clucked, putting the pen down. “We’ll just leave it out then. It raises a lot of questions, and we don’t want to guide potential employers down an empty corridor. So we’ll just stick with straight secretarial work.”
I nodded gratefully.
“Thank you. Thank you for helping me with my resume, I really appreciate it.”
The elderly woman smiled kindly.
“Of course! We’re all about job placement at the women’s shelter and honey, with your work experience, you’ll be picked up right away,” she reassured me. “Right away.”
I nodded but my heart sunk. Because I had no money, no family, no nothing, and yet I had to survive. Somehow I had to forget everything about the past, and move forwards with a smile on my face and a professional demeanor once I walked in that office door.
But another stroke of luck hit because that very day, a small construction office called with a job.
“They need more of an office manager than a secretary,” said Lulu, wrinkling her brow at the job request. “But Anna, you’re professional, you’re put together, and absolutely perfect for this role. So I’m gonna recommend you, the position start tomorrow.”
My hands went up to my cheeks.
“Tomorrow?” I gasped. I dunno, I thought it’d be weeks of tedium, looking at job postings, sending out thousands of resumes. And yet here I was, with a job offer the next day.
“Tomorrow,” said Lulu firmly. “Idle hands get up to no good, and this is just the thing, honey,” she added kindly. “If you hang around the shelter all day, you’ll just get depressed and sad. So tomorrow it is,” she said with an encouraging smile. “Tomkins Construction, over on Park Street.”