Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
My tio Feto said he had a family that he provided lawn service for, and they were looking to bring in help for their kids.
When he told me about the opening, it couldn’t have come at a better time. Nursing school wasn’t going to be cheap, and I needed a job to pay for my student loans that were already piling up. Working at my best friend Danté’s club wasn’t going to pay my bills or my student loans. I needed a real job.
Education was my only way out of living in Selma, otherwise known as El Barrio, the hood. I couldn’t afford anywhere else and I wanted a better life for myself.
I spent two hours on the public transportation bus just to get to this interview, and already it felt like I was screwing it up.
“You have an accent. Where are you from?”
As much as I tried covering it up, I should have known it’d be useless. It didn’t matter that I was bilingual, Spanish would always be my native tongue.
Pulling myself together, I didn’t bother hiding my accent this time. Responding, “My siblings and I were born here, but my parents are from Venezuela. But it won’t be a concern,” I quickly vowed. “My English is perfect, except when I get nervous, my Spanish tends to come out. I’ll speak English with the kids, that won’t be a problem. I promise.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why would that be a problem?”
“Because it had been an issue all my life. I’d been treated like a minority ever since I could remember.”
“Well that won’t be a problem in this house.”
Damn it, I just said that out loud.
I was never one to not speak my mind, often digging my own grave. I was opinionated, I couldn’t help it. You try growing up in a house full of Venezuelan people. I spoke my mind loudly, or I wouldn’t have been heard.
“They would love if their children learned another language. Aside from cusswords, you’d think their boys barely spoke English.”
I relaxed, instantly at ease. Her confession had me wanting the position even more. Working for a family who treated me as an equal was something a girl like me only dreamt about. My family was poor, but they were hardworking.
We had what we needed growing up, food on the table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads.
As if she could read my thoughts, her pointed stare never wavered from my eyes once.
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself? Who is Camila Jiménez?”
Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I countered, “What would you like to know? Skyler, right?” Silently hoping I remembered her name correctly from when she introduced herself.
She nodded. “Yes. Skyler Jameson, but you can call me Sky. Everyone besides my husband calls me that.”
Her name even sounded familiar.
Where do I know you from? Just shut up and smile, Camila. Just shut up and smile.
“How about we start with how old you are?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Are you married? Single? Never dating again?”
I laughed. “I had a boyfriend once, and I learned quickly that guys kind of suck. Besides, I don’t have any time for that. Between school, studying, work, and being there for my family when they need me, I barely have time to breathe.” I shrugged, playing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t, at least not for me.
“My family is everything to me. I helped raise my siblings, always trying to set the best example for them. With some it worked, with others not so much. I may not have the work experience you’re looking for on paper, but I know what to do when a baby is crying. I know kids can be a pain as much as they can be a blessing. But at the end of the day, all they need is love. The rest just kind of falls into place.”
She beamed, smiling big and wide. The expression illuminating her face again. “How do you feel about overnight stays? I’ve been staying with the kids at night, but I will be needing a replacement soon.”
The parents don’t come home?
“That won’t be a problem.”
“How about cooking and cleaning?”
“I love to cook. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Cleaning too. It actually relaxes me.”
“Yeah, Bailey too.”
“Bailey is the mom?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Will I be mee—”
Dismissing my question, she gazed down, shuffling through a manila file of papers. “In case of an emergency, are you CPR certified?”
“Certified, no. But I do know how to perform CPR if needed.”
“No worries, it won’t be a problem to get your certification. I’ll have Aiden’s RN get me the information.”
“Aiden is—”
“Possibly your new boss,” she interrupted, locking eyes with me. “Dr. Aiden Pierce.”
That explains the huge house and expensive looking … everything.
“He’s the Chief of Surgery at Docher Memorial Hospital in Southport. It says here you’re in nursing school? Aiden will love that.”