Picturing Perfect (2 page)

Two weeks into the trip, though, my chest started to feel tight, and walking long distances became difficult. Something was wrong. My twenty-two-year-old body wasn't cooperating, and our adventures became more and more difficult by the day. Auden suggested stopping in to see a doctor, and so we'd visited a small public health clinic in Switzerland. A very kind clinician gave me a prescription for a weak antibiotic. Every morning, I washed that small red pill down with water, and every evening I was in more pain than the day before. I was getting worse instead of getting better.

Finally, our trip came to a halt when Auden's nerves got the better of her one morning when I struggled to wake up, take a shower and get dressed. In tears, she begged me to go home, and I found myself on an eight-hour flight back to Chicago, only to be taken directly to the nearest hospital. I couldn't breathe and started to panic as we stood at baggage claim.

Auden looked me in the eye and said, "That's it, Had. It's time."

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded and followed her to the nearest waiting taxi. My mother met us at the hospital. After waiting hours in the emergency room, I was given a chest x-ray that determined I had a severe case of pneumonia as well as pleurisy, which was causing the intense, shooting pains in my chest as the swollen membranes around my lungs began to rub together awkwardly inside my body. My oxygen levels were dangerously low and I was admitted right away.

Throughout the evening, they administered antibiotics through my IV, as well as nebulizer breathing treatments every hour on the hour. But still the pain in my chest was as strong as it had been, as I struggled to walk down the cobblestone streets of Venice. I was scared of what I had done to myself by putting this off for such a long time.

"Hadley," Tucker's harsh tone snapped me out of my daydream, "the doctor said the amoxicillin they gave you in Lucerne made your infection worse. It wasn't strong enough to get the job done, so it aggravated it instead of helping. You're on the most intense antibiotics they have now, so you'll be okay. But, you're going to be here for a while." His voice was softer than just moments before, but I could still sense his anger and disappointment.

I nodded and felt the plastic tubing brush against the inside of my nostril. It was terribly uncomfortable and I wanted nothing more than to yank it out. But, I couldn't. I needed it. The cold oxygen forced its way into my resistant body. My arms, my legs, everything was sore, as if I'd just run a marathon.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to escape the prison that was my hospital bed. I wished it were all just a terrible dream. I drifted back to sleep, wishing I could change things. As my eyelids grew heavy, I was already dreading what the next few days, weeks, months would bring…knowing that nothing would go as originally planned.

"I still don't understand why you applied for this job," Tucker said as we sat in a crowded Italian restaurant. His chocolate brown hair had just been cut. His cologne was heavy as he glowered at me with his hazel eyes. Tucker only had an hour for lunch before he needed to get back. I would've been happy to meet anywhere, but he insisted on fancy places like this…even when we were just getting a quick bite. It was just part of his upbringing.

I wasn't exactly from the "wrong side of the tracks." I was raised, just like Tucker, in Wilmette, one of the wealthiest suburbs in Illinois. I grew up in a very comfortable household. My father was an orthopedic surgeon and made a great living, allowing my mother to stay home with me. As an only child, I didn't want for anything. But, Tucker…Tucker was from the wealthiest area of our city. His family was part of what people called "old money." They had a private chef, housekeepers and gardeners for the grounds of their estate.

Tucker was jaded because of his indulgent upbringing. But it didn't intimidate me. I didn't care about his money. Huge estates with mile-long driveways were never my thing. I'd always been fine with the idea of earning a teacher's salary and living in a modest home. Tucker…well, I wasn't so sure we shared the same vision of the future. He was an investment banker and a brilliant one at that.

The job I applied for doesn't pay well. I made the mistake of telling Tucker what I would be earning if I was offered the position. I swear I could see the disapproval in his eyes then, just as I do now.

"I've told you this already, Tuck. I had to cancel my teaching contract because I won't be able to start the school year. I'm still in bed most of the morning, and school begins in two days." I said, twirling the pasta on my plate.

"But, you're doing a lot better. I'm sure the school would've worked it out with you. They hired you back in May for God's sake." He wiped his chin with a napkin, before tossing it carelessly onto the table. Pushing his plate away, he shook his head while taking two large gulps of water. His elbows crashed down onto the tabletop as he perched his chin on his hands, waiting for an explanation.

I loved Tucker, but I would never have described him as even-keeled. He wore his emotions on his sleeves and wasn't afraid to let people know when he was pissed off. Entitled? Yes. Spoiled? Probably.

Me? I was naturally a more reserved person when it came to my emotions, but I'd adjusted to talking things through with Tuck since that was what he insisted upon. I'd gotten better at it and could hold my own during conversations like this one. Six years ago, watching him toss that napkin would've bothered me, but now it didn't even faze me. It was just Tuck being…well, Tuck.

"I spoke with the principal and we both agreed that it was in the best interest of the students for me to re-apply in the spring," I said calmly. Tucker nodded, but he didn't look at all convinced. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he paused and narrowed his eyes before speaking.

"That's fine. But, why developmentally disabled adults? It just seems like a total 180 degree shift."

"It's not, though," I attempted to explain. "I'll be teaching them life skills. I'll be teaching, just in a different way. In a non-traditional way."

"You said this was a work facility…for adults." He still looked puzzled.

"It is, but many of these adults are still learning their basic skills. I get to help them learn how to cook, how to tell time and count money. I'll
still
be a teacher."

"I guess so," he said, pushing the chicken breast around his plate.

"Why is this bothering you so much?"

"I just know how much money your parents spent on your education. You worked to earn your teacher's certificate. I'd like to see you use it. And eventually get your Master's." He shrugged as he glared into my eyes.

"I know, and I will…eventually. But, right now I need to earn a paycheck and this seems interesting. Plus, they don't need me for four more weeks. I have time to get better."

Getting over pneumonia had been challenging. I was in the hospital for an entire week as it took a long time for my medication to break up the infection. It was mid-August and I still took an albuterol puffer wherever I went. Most days, just going to the grocery store was enough to knock me down for a few hours. My body had been through a lot and I needed to listen to what it was telling me. I wasn't ready to work. Turning down that job made my heart ache, but it was the right thing to do.

Auden was the one who found the job listing for Sunnyside Association. She knew I wouldn't be ready for the school year and searched job websites for me whenever she had spare time, which was often. Auden was a free spirit who hadn't quite committed to a career path. She loved people and travel and she hated the idea of a mundane desk job, so she was putting it off for as long as possible. She had dual degrees in chemistry and business, and had been leaning towards pharmaceutical sales. But, somehow, I didn't see her sticking with that in the long term.

"What time is your interview?" Tucker asked as he stabbed a piece of his chicken with his fork.

"Two o'clock," I replied.

"Well, good luck," Tucker gave me a half-smile. I knew he was doing his best to be supportive. I just wished I knew what it would take for him to actually feel happy for me.

After lunch, Auden called my cell.

"Hey, there," she said. "Are you ready for your interview?"

"I think so," I replied, biting the side of my lip.

"You'll impress them, don't worry," she reassured me. "What does Tucker think? Is he excited for you?"

My silence answered her question.

"Please tell me Tucker's not being a royal pain in the ass about this."

"He just thinks I gave up too quickly with the high school position."

"You're not ready to be on your feet for seven hours a day. And I know you, you would push yourself too hard and end up back in the hospital."

"I know," I said.

"What does your mom think?" Auden asked. I could hear the slight hesitation in her voice.

"You know my mom.
Whatever makes me happy makes her happy
. It's impossible to get her to have an opinion about anything," I replied. And it was the truth.

"Okay, forget about Tucker and your mom for a minute. You're going to ace this interview and have a new job. It's very exciting." Her voice was soothing on the other end of the line and I realized she was right. I was excited about the interview and I couldn't let Tucker's bad attitude affect me.

"You're right," I sighed into the phone.

"Jason said hi, by the way," she said, her voice teasing me.

"Geez, give it a rest. I'm not thirteen anymore," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm serious. Ever since you got sick, he asks about you all the time. He wants to make sure you're all right. It's sweet."

My stomach flipped slightly in my belly. Despite him being Auden's older brother, I hadn't thought of Jason in quite a while. It wasn't so long ago that thoughts of Jason consumed my adolescent brain. But, since falling for Tucker and becoming part of a couple, that part of my brain had been quiet.

"Okay, sorry." She laughed quietly into the phone. "I really do wish you lots of luck today."

"I'm heading to the interview now. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Great, I'll talk to you later," Auden said.

After hanging up the phone, I went home to change into my best interview suit. I'd lost quite a bit of weight since May when I interviewed with several schools. But, luckily with a black patent leather belt, I managed to make the pants fit around my drastically smaller waist.

With one last puff from my inhaler, I grabbed my portfolio from the kitchen counter and walked out the door, hoping for the best.

The doors of Sunnyside Association were heavy and clunky as I opened them. A large squeak followed as they closed and I looked around the industrial building. I could hear the sound of conveyor belts and other machines. At first, I wondered if I was in the wrong building, but then I remembered the nature of the building. This was a work facility. They were most likely assembling items for companies. The woman behind the window looked tired but friendly. Her blond hair was pinned up in a bun and she had a warmth to her that made me feel comfortable. She smiled at me, raising her eyebrows.