Baltimore was my best option. I rented a cheap apartment; it was the only one I could afford. I started looking for a job relentlessly, and two weeks later I finally got an opportunity. After countless sleepless nights and sending out resumes without receiving any answers, I was called for an interview at a private high school—to work as a driver.
That morning, I jumped out of bed when the alarm rang at 7 a.m. I went to the kitchen, poured myself a bowl of cereal with milk, and sat on the only chair I had, which wobbled every time I moved. While eating breakfast, I scrolled through a few reels from my friends, even though I barely talked to anyone anymore.
By 8 a.m., I was dressed in a blue shirt, jeans, and worn moccasins. My blond hair was neatly combed, and I had a three-day beard.
When I arrived, I noticed the school also had a kindergarten. My nerves kicked in immediately—I needed this job. My savings were shrinking every day.
I walked quickly inside and asked for Sasha. The secretary, Anna, immediately stood up and asked me to follow her to the principal’s office, where the interview would take place. She opened the door to announce me, then left two minutes later and let me in.
I never imagined I would see Thomas there.
I knew he was a school principal somewhere far from where we used to live, but I never thought I’d run into him here. I had met Thomas through my ex-wife when we visited her parents in her hometown. He was their neighbor, and we used to see him every Christmas. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we had talked before. I always noticed how my ex-wife’s eyes lingered on him whenever he walked past us.
I can’t lie—Thomas is very handsome. About 6 feet tall, with an athletic build, tanned skin, brown eyes, a full tattoo sleeve on his right arm, and curly hair. He had a presence that was impossible to ignore.
“Good morning,” I said as I shook his hand. Then I turned to the other person, whom I assumed was Sasha—a beautiful woman with brown eyes and black hair—greeted her, and took a seat across from them.
I had never worked as a school driver before, and I didn’t know if my experience as a long-haul truck driver would be enough. Running into Thomas hadn’t been part of the plan. My stomach churned, sweat trickled down my back, and my mind raced, trying to figure out how not to look surprised—or worse, desperate.
“Have you ever worked as a school driver before?” Sasha asked, glancing at the papers in her hands. A second later, she lifted her head, waiting for my answer.
“No, I’ve never worked as a school driver,” I admitted, then quickly added, “but I was a long-haul truck driver for eight years.” I felt uneasy, my voice trembling slightly every time I spoke.
The interview continued like that for fifteen long minutes. Throughout it all, Thomas didn’t say a word. Occasionally, he exchanged glances with Sasha, and sometimes he looked directly at me, as if wondering what I was doing there.
They told me they would call me within the next two days. I walked out without much hope; my posture probably gave me away. I noticed the secretary giving me a look of pity, but I didn’t dwell on it. I headed straight for the bus stop—I couldn’t afford an Uber.
When I got home, I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted both mentally and physically. I had already gone through four interviews and hadn’t gotten any of them. This had been my last chance, and I wasn’t sure my savings would last another month of rent—or even groceries.
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