“Danielle, could you come down here for a moment?” my dad calls up the stairs.
“Be there in a second.” I call down the stairs. I walk down the stairs and my dad is sitting at his computer like normal.
“What’s up Dad?”
“Sweetie, you might want to sit down.”
“Dad, what’s wrong? Did Grandma die?”
“No, no, no.”
“Then what is wrong?”
“Sweetie, my boss wants me to visit a branch of the company in another state.”
“Yes! YES! YES! How long are we staying?”
“About three months.” He begins. “There is just one problem. The room that has been given me only has one bed. It has a couch, though.”
“What are you getting at Dad?”
“You are going to have to get a job down there so you can pay for an apartment.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Deal.” We shake on it.
“When do we leave?”
“In about four hours.”
“What? What am I doing just standing here? I have to pack!” I run upstairs to my room and pack. I pack almost my entire wardrobe. The suitcase is about half full. I don’t have very many clothes. I am so excited. I finish packing and I lay down on my bed.
All of a sudden, my dad is waking me up and saying, “The taxi is here. We have to go. Wake up!”
“I’m awake! I’m awake!” I shout at him. “Where is my suitcase?”
“It is in the taxi unlike you.” He starts laughing.
We get into the taxi and head off to the airport. When we get to the airport we board the plane.
We walk out of the airport and my breath is taken away. All I see is beauty. My dad pulls me over to our rental car. I hop into the passenger seat. And away we drive. We drive for like 5 minutes. We pull into this drive that leads to a house right on the beach. It is so beautiful. “Don’t bother unpacking.” My dad yells to me over the sound of crashing waves. The wind is blowing just enough to make my hair whip in the wind. I turn to get my suitcase out of the trunk and see that my dad ran over a newspaper. I pick it up. I grab my suitcase and slam the trunk closed.
We walk in and, once again, my breath is taken from me. It is like everything from a movie. It is absolutely beautiful. I sit on the couch in the front room. “So, sweetie, how do you like your bed?” my dad questions me.
“It is okay, I guess.”
“You should get started looking for a job, starting with that newspaper.”
“Okay…” I say as I open the newspaper bag. I pull it out and flip to the “wanted” section. I scan most of the page and see nothing I am interested in. I am about to put it down when my eyes rest on the last ad:
Injured Army personnel needing someone to help him get around. Pays $1000 a day.
If interested please call 648-987-0915
“Hey, Dad. What about this?” I ask as I shove the ad in his face.
“I wanna meet them first. Go call the number and make sure the job is still there.”
I call the number and a man on the other end answers.
“Hi, um… I found this ad in the newspaper about a job. Is this the um… right place?”
“Yes. I am Lieutenant Kris Matthews. I am the one who placed the ad. If you could come to 912 Carson Road in Schofield Barracks, I could interview you and see if you are eligible to hire.
“Bye.” I hang up.
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