Chapter 11

When the last shirt was ironed, Jessie took off her head phones and was almost sorry that she was done for tonight.  She pulled out the plug of the hot iron, set it in the kitchen to cool and folded the ironing board.  Why do I only sing when I do the ironing, she wondered.  She never sang when she dusted her apartment, she never sang when she did the vacuuming nor did she sing with any other housework task.  In a way she knew the answer to the question.  Dusting, vacuuming, and mopping the floors were physically demanding.  She frequently found herself out of breath.  But ironing she found wasn’t demanding at all.  In fact, if it wasn’t that she could sing while she ironed, it would be quite boring.

Having put the ironed laundry away, she went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle for a cup of coffee.  She was looking forward to sitting in her favourite chair, putting her feet up on the futon and spending the remainder of the evening reading.  While waiting for the water to boil, Jessie went on the balcony and watched the traffic on Kennedy Avenue ten floors below her.  Where are all these people going, she wondered.  There was always traffic on the avenue, whether it was twelve o’clock in the afternoon or twelve o’clock at night, there were always cars speeding by. 

Jessie loved watching traffic and she sometimes fantasized about the motorists.  Who were these people who seemed in such in a hurry?  Were they doctors and nurses on their way to the hospital nearby?  Were they lovers on their way to some secret rendezvous?  Or were they just people coming home from a family visit?

Across the street a young couple was walking hand in hand, taking advantage of the warm night air.  Some distance behind them an old lady was walking her dog. 

The fast food restaurant across the street seemed busy.  Despite it being almost eleven o’clock the parking lot was packed with cars.  One of the cars was a Ferrari, Jessie noticed to her surprise.  It wasn’t every day she saw a Ferrari at a fast food place.  She figured that whoever drove such an expensive car would prefer to eat at a classy restaurant.  Then again, the rich didn’t lose their taste for the American favorite. A nice greasy burger, she enjoyed indulging in them herself from time to time. 

When the kettle boiled she went to the kitchen to make her coffee and returned to the balcony with the steaming mug.  She was just in time to see a man opening the door to the Ferrari and folding himself into the driver’s seat.  He didn’t drive off right away, but instead sat for awhile, with the driver’s door open.  Jessie tried to imagine why he sat there. Was he waiting for his girlfriend who was still in the burger place?  Was he lost?  Was he perhaps feeling ill?  She saw him looking at her building scanning each floor. .  Then he closed the door, started the engine and drove off. 

Jessie went inside, closed the balcony door and reached for her book.  She would read for an hour or so and then go to bed.

The next day Jessie made the decision to visit the Premier College and enroll for the secretarial course.  She took the subway downtown, and walked the short distance to the college.  She loved being downtown.  She loved the hustle and bustle of people around her, and the variety of stores.  It was such a difference to the suburbs where she used to work.  Muller’s Dry Cleaning & Laundry Services was located in the middle of nowhere, so to speak, and except for a small convenience store and a coffee shop there had been no shops whatsoever.  She’d used to go for a walk during her lunch hour and sometimes never passed another person on the street.  Here in downtown New York City there were plenty of souls and Jessie appreciated their company. 

At the McKenzie Tower she took one of eight elevators to the twenty sixth floor where the Premier Secretarial College was located.  The receptionist handed her an application form and she was surprised how easy it was to enrol.  She just filled in the form, paid the registration fee and was told the course started on the third of September.  There were no questions regarding her education or if she had finished high school.  She would have appreciated more information about the course.  She wanted to ask how many other students were in the course, what their average age was and what they would be learning, but the receptionist was too busy answering the phone. 

Back on the street she took a deep breath and couldn’t stop smiling.  She had done it, she had made a start.  To celebrate, Jessie decided to buy herself a cup of coffee and as it was almost lunch time a sandwich too.  Sandwiches always tasted so much better when you didn’t make them yourself.

Since it was such a beautiful warm day, she found herself a spot in the park and took a sip of the hot coffee.  She wished Betty was with her.  They could have gone window shopping, or just walk around and take in the sights. 

When a pigeon landed in front of her feet and eyed her sandwich, Jessie threw him a piece of the crust.  The bird hastily pecked at it and waited for more.  Jessie threw another piece.  To her surprise and delight more pigeons landed near her bench, all seemingly hungry.  Seeing them fight over a few crumbs, Jessie broke what was left of her sandwich in small pieces and threw the pieces and crumbs at the birds. 

Soon the park became crowded and Jessie decided it was time to leave.  In her cotton flowery dress she felt out of place between all the office girls who, even in this heat were all dressed in business suits.  She wondered if and when she finished her course would she would feel like she belonged?

Secretarial college was nothing like Jessie had expected.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.  Day after day she and nineteen other students assembled in a room and typed.  Well, if you could call it typing. What she and the others students did was more like groping in the dark, literally.  As soon as the lesson started, the overhead lights were switched off, plunging the room in total darkness.  Then a giant television screen was switched on.  The screen showed a computer keyboard.  Besides showing letters, figures and characters, the keys were color coded.  The instructor explained that you used your index finger for the red keys, the middle finger for the green keys and the ring finger for the blue keys.  Yellow indicated the pinkie fingers chore.   The spacebar was to be pushed with the thumb.  They had to look up at the giant screen and when a letter was lit up they were to type that letter on their own computer keyboard.  On their monitor they could see if they had hit the correct key or not.  After a few seconds another letter would light up and they were to type that letter.  Jessie concentrated on the screen and her fingers, but it was still a case of reaching, hitting and hoping for the best.  She wondered how her companion students were doing. 

On her left was Alain, a lanky twenty-one year old who was extremely funny. He had the entire class laughing the first day of the course.  The instructor had asked them all to give their names for the attendance register.  Alain had risen and introduced himself as Alain Thenhere.  When the instructor asked for the spelling of his surname Alain had replied with “Thenhere, t-h-e-n-h-e-r-e.  As in then here, then there, you know.”

The whole class had burst out laughing and the instructor had barely kept a straight face himself.  It was as if he already knew that Alain was going to be the class clown, apparently every class had one.

On Jessie’s right was Reeva Hastings.  Reeva was a gorgeous redhead of Irish descent, approximately Jessie’s age with a similar background.  She had been a machine operator in a plastics company until she was laid off.  In search of a better job she had applied for the secretarial course.  She was delighted to be accepted.

“No offense, but quite frankly I think they accept anybody,” Reeva had speculated.  “They don’t check your background or your intelligence.  As long as you pay the entrance fee, you’re in.”

Jessie wasn’t offended.  In fact she was beginning to feel the same way.  Almost everyone in the class was looking to improve their lives. Among her fellow students were waitresses, girls who up until now had worked in the manufacturing industry and bored housewives.  A small minority were young girls who had just finished high school. They had enrolled in the course to put the finishing touch to their education.  They weren’t popular with most of the class because they considered themselves better than the rest of the class.

“How’re you doing?” Reeva asked with an encouraging nod.

“Not too good,” Jessie shrugged, “I keep missing the keys.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Reeva swiped at an invisible fly, “everybody does.”

When the letter ‘N’ was lit up, Jessie reached for the key with her index finger.

“Wanna do something after class?” Reeva asked.

Jessie was about to enthusiastically accept when she remembered her appointment with Betty.  “I’d love to but I can’t Reeva,” she said with a headshake.  “I’m meeting a friend this afternoon.  We’re having our picture taken.”

Reeva nodded her understanding.  “Passport pictures or something?”

Jessie shook her head.  “No, we were at the hairdressers the other day and Francois, one of the stylists, offered us a deal.  If we agreed to have our picture taken, the visit would be free.”

Reeva’s eyebrows shot up.  “Cool.”

“It’s just a picture to hang in the salon,” Jessie explained.  “You know, to show customers different kind of hairstyles.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you kidding me!” Reeva gasped.  “Of course it means something.  You’re gonna be on a wall for all to see.  Women are gonna look at your picture and say ‘I wanna look like her’.  I might even copy your hairstyle, it looks great.”

Jessie subconsciously touched her hair and flicked it off her shoulders.  The style did suit her.  It wasn’t as nice and polished as when Francois had styled it, but she was happy with the look.  “Shall we get together tomorrow?”

Reeva nodded with a smile.  “Sure, I’d like that.”

Chapter 5

Going to the mall was always an exciting experience for Jessie.  The moment she opened the doors and stepped inside, she felt the thrill of promise.  So many stores, so much merchandize; all beautifully presented, just waiting to be purchased and taken home by someone.  Most of the time Jessie had to be selective with her purchases, but not today.  Today, thanks to Mr. Muller, she could splash out. 

“What are we shopping for?” Betty asked as she hitched her bag further up her shoulder. 

“Clothes, shoes, accessories and some make-up” Jessie said, eyes twinkling with excitement.  “Today I’m reinventing myself.”

“Am I missing something?” Betty frowned, as shoppers pushed past them.  “Didn’t you just lose your job?  Shouldn’t you be counting pennies instead of spending them?”

“It’s okay Betty,” Jessie smiled, touched by her friend’s concern.  “I have plenty of money.”

Betty couldn’t be more surprised.  “You do?  What happened since yesterday?  Did you win the Lottery?  Have you come into your inheritance?  Did you find a sugar daddy?”

“Mr. Muller gave me five weeks pay and a three thousand dollar bonus,” Jessie explained.  “I’ve decided to invest the money.”

Betty’s mouth opened wide in stunned silence.  “Three thousand dollars!   You’re joking?”

“No.”

“You’re not joking?”

“No.”

“Why?  Why did he give you the money?”

“I guess he felt bad for letting me go.”

Betty made a face.  “I almost wish he’d let me go.”

Jessie shrugged.  “Like they say, every cloud has a silver lining.”

“And so you’re going to invest the money in clothes and shoes?”

“Yes, and one other thing,” Jessie said hesitantly; unsure how her friend would react to the next piece of information.  “I’m also investing in a secretarial course.  I saw an ad in the paper for a three month course and I’m calling them on Monday.  I’m going to this Betty; I’m going to change my life.”

Jessie waited, expecting some angry or at least sneering remark from her friend, but none came.  Instead she nodded and started walking.

“So where do you wanna go first? Clothes or shoes?”

“Clothes,” Jessie smiled, linking an arm with her friend.

They strode from one boutique to another, happily picking up outfits and putting them back. Jessie was shocked by the price tags.  Everything was so much more expensive than she’d expected.

“How do you like this hot red number?” Betty held up a red pleated skirt.

“I don’t think so girl,” Jessie shook her head.  “I think I’ll stick to dark colors.”

As Betty put the red skirt back on the rack, Jessie picked out a pair of black slacks, gray slacks and a navy blue pencil skirt.  She matched the three items with a white sweater and a pale blue shirt and a soft pink blouse.

“Wait here, okay?” she instructed Betty as she hauled her selections into the change room.

“Of course I’ll wait here,” Betty pulled up her shoulders.  “Where am I gonna go?  Will you come out and model the clothes for me? “

Jessie promised she would before she excitedly closed the door to the small room. .

In the cold light of the cubicle she looked at herself in the full length mirror.  A tall, slender girl, with mid length, wavy dark brown hair, big brown eyes, a long nose and wide mouth stared back at her.  She looked more critically.  She should have washed her hair.  It was slightly greasy and frizzy and it could do with a trim.  She should have worn make-up; at the very least some foundation and lipstick.  Without it she looked as pale as a ghost.  Her eyes traveled over her clothes.  The faded baggy jeans and washed out T-shirt did nothing for her.  Her size seven figure all but disappeared in the rumpled clothes.  And those old sneakers, what had she been thinking!

The ugly duckling Jessie thought concluding her assessment.

Resolutely turning away from the mirror Jessie pulled off her jeans and T-shirt and reached for the black slacks and pale blue shirt.  She loved the feel of soft linen against her legs and back.  Turning towards the mirror her brows went up appreciatively, this was definitively an improvement.  Opening the door of the cubicle she stuck her head outside.

“Psst … psst,” she tried to attract Betty’s attention, but her friend was checking out the accessories counter and apparently couldn’t hear her.  Jessie stepped out of the cubicle and strutted past the other stalls towards Betty.  

“Psst,” she tried again, this time adding a little wave to attract Betty’s attention.

Betty turned around, gave Jessie a blank look, and then turned back to the necklaces and bracelets.  Almost instantly she did an about spin that almost snapped her neck  

“Jessie?”  “Is that really you?  My God, you’re beautiful.”

Jessie blushed under such open admiration.  “No I’m not,” she said, plucking at an imaginary piece of fluff on the slacks, “the clothes are.  They’d look good on anyone.”

Betty didn’t agree.  Jessie was beautiful.  She had the figure of a model and a certain style and elegance Betty had never noticed before.  “You definitely have to buy that outfit,” she nodded so vigorously her head was in danger of falling off.  “Go put the other things on,” she waved her hands, “and make sure you come and show yourself.  Off you go.”

Jessie returned to the change room and appeared a few minutes later in the blue pencil skirt and white top.

“Gorgeous!” Betty clapped her hands.  “You’ll need shoes though.”

Giggling Jessie looked down on her bare feet. She did a little happy hop before she disappeared into her cubicle.  When next she emerged she was wearing the gray slacks with a pink top. 

“Oh my goodness,” Betty gasped, “you look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine.”

“Your friend is right you know,” a sales assistant joined Jessie and Betty. “Are you a model?”

“No,” Jessie smiled embarrassed.

“Perhaps you should be,” the sales assistant suggested.  “You are very beautiful and you obviously have excellent taste.  I’ve been watching you, you know how to mix and match.  The pink top you choose will go very well with the black slacks, the blue top will go with the gray slacks and blue skirt, and the white top, well white goes with everything.”

Jessie nodded.  She hadn’t even considered this, but the girl was right of course, the colors were ideal to mix and match.

“Will you need jackets too?” the sales assistant asked.  “I could give you a special price.”

Jessie was of two minds.  The jackets she had seen were beautiful but rather pricey.

“Go for it Jess,” Betty urged.  “If you’re gonna be an assistant, you’ll have to look the part.  You’ve seen how Jenny Sullivan dresses.”

Within minutes the matching jackets were selected.  At the cash register Jessie received a twenty percent discount and happily left the store.

“Didn’t you want to look at something?” she turned to Betty.

Her friend shook her head.  “When would I get the chance to wear these kinds of clothes?”

“You could come with me,” Jessie suggested.  “Take the course with me.  There’s evening and weekend classes and you could make a change too.”

Betty considered this for a moment but then shook her head.  “It wouldn’t work for me Jess.  You have the drive and the ambition and I can see it happening for you, but not for me.”

“Why not?”

Betty sighed.  “Working all day and then going to a course at night … I don’t think so.”

Jessie decided not to press her friend.  She would dearly love it if Betty took the secretarial course with her, but if Betty didn’t want to come, she couldn’t force her.  Perhaps she would suggest it again another time.

“What’s next?” Betty asked.

“Shoes,” Jessie said.  “I need some shoes to go with the clothes.”

They went to their favorite shoe store.  A place where the shoes didn’t carry a ridiculously high price tag but still, a place where Jessie and Betty could usually only window shop. Today they walked right in.

“Look at these,” Betty picked up a pair of black court shoes.  “Aren’t they just to die for?”

Jessie liked them, but she also liked the pair she was holding with a two inch heel.

“Very sexy,” Betty agreed.  “Get them both.”

“Both!” Jessie cried.

“Yes both.  You can’t wear the same shoes every day.”

Jessie pouted her lips and bobbed her head from side to side.  Her friend had a point.  “But I still need blue shoes to go with the blue outfit,” she said.

“At these prices you can afford it,” Betty waved in the air.

Together they strolled along the size seven racks, filled with black, brown, gray and cream colored shoes.  Jessie and Betty looked, picked up shoes and compared prices. 

“What about these?” Jessie held up a pair of gray shoes.

“We’re looking for blue ones,” Betty reminded her.

“I know we’re looking for blue ones,” Jessie said, “but tell me what you think of these.”

“Very elegant,” Betty nodded.  “But you don’t really need them.  You can wear black shoes under gray slacks.”

“Pfft,” Jessie blew her friend’s practicality away with a wave of her hand, “I like really, really like these so I’m going to get them.

They were already standing in line for the cash register when Betty noticed the woman in front of her clutching a pair of navy blue shoes. 

“Look,” she elbowed Jessie in the ribs.

“Oh, they’re absolutely divine,” Jessie purred.  “Why didn’t we see those?”

Before Jessie could stop her friend Betty had launched into action.

“Excuse ma’am,” she tapped the woman with the shoes on the shoulder, “may I ask were you found those?”

“On the sale rack back there,” the woman pointed.  “They’re half price.”

“Wait here,” Betty said.  “I’ll go see if I can find a size seven.”

Within minutes she was back, carrying two pairs of blue shoes.

“Two pairs?” Jessie questioned.

“One for you and one for me,” Betty explained.

“Why?” Jessie said.

“Why?” Betty was slightly puzzled by the question.

“Yes why?” Jessie repeated.  “You don’t need to buy those, you can borrow mine.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Jessie shrugged; lifting the bags she was carrying.  “And any of this stuff.  We’re the same size.  If you want to borrow something just let me know.”

Betty smiled contentedly.  Whatever Jessie’s future held and whatever lay in store for her, she was sure they would always remain best friends.

Chapter 3

At the bottom of the stairs Betty anxiously awaited Jessie.

“And?” she said, inclining her head a little.  “What did he want to see you for?”

“I just got fired,” Jessie said flatly.

“Fired!” Betty cried, not able to hide the outrage in her voice.  “Why?  What did you do?  What did he fire you for?”

“Apparently a machine is going to do my job,” Jessie shrugged.

Betty was momentarily speechless.  “I … I can’t believe it,” she eventually stammered.  “How could he?  And what do you mean a machine is going to do your job?  How can a machine press shirts and blouses?  It probably can do sheets and tablecloths and other flat things, but how can it do delicate things?”

Jessie merely shrugged.

“So where does that leave me?” Betty added as an afterthought.  “Am I gonna be fired too?”

Jessie took a deep breath, shrugged again and shook her head.  She had no idea.  She also had no idea as to what she was supposed to do now.  Was she supposed to finish her day, or should she say goodbye to everyone and just leave?

“Jessie,” both Jessie and Betty looked up at the sound of Jenny Sullivan’s voice as she came hurrying down the stairs.  “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Betty said, sensing the two women needed some privacy.

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

Jenny led the way to the cafeteria, poured two cups of coffee and took them over to a table by the window. 

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” Jessie said, cupping the coffee between her hands.  “I was actually just thinking about that.  Do I leave now, or do I finish the day?”

“You don’t have to finish the day,” Jenny shook her head.  “You may leave right away if you like.  But before you go I wanted to have a bit of a chat with you.  What will you do now?  What are your plans?  I realize you haven’t had much time to consider your future and you’re probably still in shock, but…”

When Jenny stopped speaking, Jessie looked up.  “But what?”

“Well I wanted to make a suggestion.”

Jessie waited for what was to come.

“I’ve been watching you and listening to you for some time now,” Jenny started tentatively, “and you seem like a very intelligent person.  Every morning I see you come in with The New York Times and you don’t just skim the pages, you read the articles.  And you talk differently than the other workers around here.  You seem to know a lot about politics and the economy in general, and you use words like exemplify, governance and misconstrue.  One would expect such language from a college graduate, not from a … laborer.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that you’re so well spoken, but you do seem a little out of place here.  Behind a hot press I mean.”

Jessie was temporarily at a loss for words.  On the one hand she felt slightly put off that Jenny was surprised she read the newspaper, took an interest in politics and the economy and knew a few intellectual words. Just because she worked with her hands didn’t mean she didn’t have a mind.  But on the other hand she was flattered that Jenny was taking an interest in her, and she couldn’t wait to hear what she had to suggest.

“I think you can do better than working in a laundry,” Jenny went on.  “I think by terminating your employment here, Mr. Muller might have done you the biggest favor.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jessie said, pinching her eyebrows together.  “Are you saying that I should apply to work in a store?”

Jenny inclined her head.  “Set your sights a little higher Jessie.  Have you thought about going back to school?  Perhaps take a course of some sort?”

“As a matter of fact I have,” Jessie admitted hesitantly.  “But…”

“But what?”

“Courses are expensive.  It would have been difficult enough to pay for a course while I was earning a monthly pay cheque, but now, now that I’ve lost my job…”

“On the contrary,” Jenny interrupted.  “Now is the perfect time.  While you were working it would have been hard to go to night school, but now that you’re not working you have the time to pursue a new career.”

“And what do you suggest I do for money?”

Jenny waved a dismissive hand.  “Since it’s only a matter of money, take any job, any job at all.  Be a waitress in a bar or a restaurant.  It doesn’t pay much, but the tips can add up.  Then once you’re finished with your course you can just walk out.  Do something with your life Jessie.”

Jessie was about to mention that she didn’t know anything about waitressing when Jenny handed her two envelopes.

Jessie recognized her pay packet, but she wondered about the second envelope.  “What is this?” 

“This one is your pay cheque,” Jenny explained.  “This week’s pay plus another four weeks as Mr. Muller promised.  And this,” she tapped the second envelope, “is a gift from Mr. Muller himself.  Invest it wisely.”

After Jenny had left her, Jessie reflected on the five years she had worked for Muller Laundry & Dry Cleaning Services.  At age seventeen she had arrived at this building full of enthusiasm.  She was going to be a working girl.  No more classrooms and homework for her, she was a grown up and she was joining the working force.  She had quickly become friends with all the other workers, especially Betty, who had started working for the laundry a little over a year ago and had shown her the ropes.  They had sought out each other’s company outside work too.  They often went shopping together, went for walks in the park or just visited each other at home.  The years passed and when Jessie lost her parents in a car accident she suggested to Betty they become roommates, but as an only child Betty wouldn’t leave her widowed mother.  In time Jessie considered herself happy.  She had her own apartment, the furnishings – although mainly second hand stuff – were tasteful, and she loved her job.  It wasn’t until she started dating and was repeatedly dumped after mentioning she was a press operator in a laundry service that she became unhappy with her job.  Now her job had come to an unexpected end.  According to Jenny, that was a blessing. 

Jessie finished her coffee, went to the locker room to collect her handbag before heading for the exit.  She knew she should say goodbye to everyone, but she couldn’t face them.  She hated good-byes.  She would see Betty tomorrow, and the others – when they heard the news – well, they would understand.  Outside the gates she turned around for one last look.  For everyone else the weekend was about to begin, followed by another work week.  She had no idea what she would be doing next week.

That night in her apartment Jessie opened the gift envelope.  To her utter amazement inside was a cheque in the amount of three thousand dollars and a note that read:

“Please accept this as a token of my appreciation for the last five years of excellent service. 

Have fun with it.

Harry Muller”.

Jessie knew right away what she would do with the windfall.  Jenny had advised her to invest it wisely, Mr. Muller wrote to have fun with it.  Well she was going to do both.  She was going to invest part of the money in herself and enroll in a secretarial course, and with the rest she was going to go shopping, invest in a whole new wardrobe.  Smiling she reached for the phone.

“Betty,” she said when the call was answered, “want to go to the mall with me tomorrow?”

Chapter 2

But Jessie couldn’t sleep.  She tossed and turned and imagined herself sitting behind a desk. She would be dressed in a stunning outfit, answering ringing phones with a smile on her face.  A million thoughts scurried through her mind.  She knew that completing the course would present many obstacles.  She worried she might not qualify as an applicant due to her lack of education.  If she was accepted it would have to be an evening class.  Would she be able to manage working all day and attending school at night?  She wanted this so badly she would just have to do it.  She also wondered where such classes were held, how long each class was, how long a course was, and how much it would cost.

When a nearby church bell struck two o’clock, Jessie sat up and slipped out of bed.  She would have some hot chocolate.  Maybe that would help her sleep. 

Sipping the hot drink at the kitchen table, she reached for yesterday’s newspaper and turned to the classifieds.  She was surprised at the number of ads for secretaries, administrative assistants and executive assistants.  She wondered what the difference was between an executive assistant and an administrative assistant.  She studied the requirements for each job listed: tying correspondence, typing financial statements, organizing meetings, scheduling appointments, booking flight and hotel accommodations, filing and answering calls.

When she turned the page she saw a number of ads for private colleges.  Some offered courses in drawing and painting, some in car mechanics, hairdressing, foot care and massage.  There were also some that offered secretarial courses.  Jessie’s eyes widened when she saw the price … a thousand dollars for a three month course, not exactly cheap.  Somewhat disheartened she closed the paper, finished her hot chocolate and went back to bed.

The next day at work she made some mental calculations.  Half of her wages went to rent, a portion went to bills, another portion to groceries and toiletries.  That left precious little to spend on personal items or necessities for the apartment.  How could she possibly save up a thousand dollars for a course?

At three o’clock, Betty indicated with a drinking gesture that it was time for a break.

“You look tired,” she commented as soon as she and Jessie sat down at one of the cafeteria tables.  “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine,” Jessie shrugged.  “Just a little tired.  I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh?”

“I kept thinking about taking that course, the secretarial course, and…”

“What is it suddenly with you wanting to be an assistant?” Betty demanded in an annoyed tone.  “You’re a press operator.  You have been for five years.  You’ve always been happy with your work.  At least I’ve never heard you complain.  But now suddenly you got it in your head that you want to be an assistant.  What’s wrong with being a press operator?”

At first Jessie said nothing, she just stared at her coffee, but then slowly she started formulating her thoughts.  “I’m tired of being in a steamy room all day Betty.  I’m tired of being hot and sweaty, doing the same thing day after day after day.  I’m tired of watching my life go by.  I’ve been here five years and I’m doing today what I was doing on my first day.  I’m tired of people looking down on me and they do you know.  I met a guy the other day and we hit it off, right up to the point where he asked me what I did for a living, and then suddenly he changed.  You know why he changed?  I do, I wasn’t good enough for him.  And this isn’t the first time it’s happened.  There have been others I’ve gone out with, but who dumped me as soon as they found out I work in a laundry.”

“That’s stupid,” Betty spat.  “Anyone who rates you by what you do, or how much money you have, isn’t worthy of you.”

“Well, that may be true, but that’s not even why I want to take the course.  I want to do it for me, because I want something better for myself.”

“And a secretarial course is the answer?  You think you can be an assistant?”

Jessie stayed silent for a moment.  If Betty didn’t believe in her, what chance did she have with strangers?  But she wanted to try.  She had to try.  If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out, but she had to try.

“Jessie.”

When Jessie looked up Jenny Sullivan was standing next to her.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Muller would like to see you in his office.”

A sense of panic flooded through Jessie.  In all the years she had worked for the laundry service she had never been asked to go to the boss’ office.  Whatever Mr. Muller had to say was relayed to the staff through memos Jenny pinned on the notice board in the cafeteria.  There was only one occasion when Mr. Muller wanted to see an employee in person … to fire that employee.

But why he would want to fire her?  Jessie had no idea.  She was never late, she was dependable and she was good at her job. 

She cast a worried glance at Betty, who looked just as worried. 

Trembling Jessie got off her chair and followed Jenny up the stairs to the first floor where the offices were located.

“Wait here,” Jenny instructed when they arrived at her office.  “Have a seat please.”

Jenny stepped into the adjoining office and closed the door.  Jessie sat down and looked around her.  So this was Jenny’s office.  Somehow she had pictured it a little bit more glamorous.  It had cream coloured walls, dark brown furniture and a threadbare brown carpet.  The only things that livened up the place a bit were two green potted plants on the windowsill, a pink teddy bear next to Jenny’s computer and a red picture frame on the desk.  But the office was bright with sunshine and Jessie thought how wonderful it must be to have natural light all day; to see the sun and the sky, the rain and the snow.  In the laundry in the basement they worked with harsh white tube lights and had no idea what the weather was like.

“Jessie, Mr. Muller will see you now.”

The door of the adjoining office had opened and Jenny motioned Jessie to step inside.

Jessie didn’t want to go in.  She had the feeling that no good would come of this meeting. 

Keeping her eyes downcast, Jessie couldn’t help but notice the changes as she entered Mr. Muller’s office. The dull brown carpet changed to a plush cream one, and when she looked up she found herself surrounded by luxury.  She knew enough about wood to recognize that the numerous bookcases, credenza and huge desk were oak.  She didn’t have to touch the three piece lounge suite to know that it was made from the softest leather, and she didn’t need to examine the decanter and glasses on the credenza to know they were crystal.  There was a big difference between this office and Jenny’s but in comparison to the laundry area downstairs this place was a palace.

“Jessie,” Harry Muller said rising from the high backed chair behind his desk, “please come in and have a seat.”

Wringing her hands Jessie perched on the indicated chair and waited for what was coming.  She didn’t have to wait long.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Jessie,” Harry Muller came straight to the point.

Yep, I’m fired, Jessie thought.  She only half heard how her boss praised her work, thanked her for five years of loyal service, but explained that machines were taking over manual labor.  Her mind was in such turmoil she only heard the end of his speech, “So I’m afraid I’m gonna have to let you go.  I’m really sorry Jessie.  It speaks for itself that I will give you an excellent reference and a month’s salary in advance.”

Jessie nodded, thanked her boss and left the office.  As she descended the stairs reality slowly settled in.  She was unemployed.  She didn’t have a job anymore.  She wouldn’t be coming back here on Monday.  What was she going to do?  What was going to happen to her?  She wouldn’t have an income anymore.  How was she going to pay the rent?  How was she going to pay for groceries?  Hang on, don’t panic, she told herself, Mr. Muller had stated that she would get a month’s wages in advance.  Surely she could find another job within a month.  Yes she could do that.  Things would be all right.  She might even find a better job.  Who wanted to work in a steamy laundry anyway?

Chapter 1

 June 1998

Jessie Green glanced at the red digital clock on the wall … 4:30 p.m.  Another half hour and they could all go home.  With a sigh she reached for another shirt from a pile of freshly laundered linen and placed it on the press.  In the five years she had worked for Muller’s Laundry & Dry Cleaning she had pressed hundreds, maybe even thousands of garments: shirts, blouses, slacks, table cloths and bed sheets.  It was not a bad job.  She knew there were better jobs, but with no qualifications, working in a laundry was all she could do.

When Jenny Sullivan came to collect the work orders of the day for invoicing tomorrow, Jessie watched the girl with a mixture of admiration and envy.

Jenny Sullivan was Harry Muller’s assistant and always looked picture perfect.  She never had a hair out of place, a smudge in her make-up, a wrinkle or stain on her clothes, a ladder in her stockings or dirt on her shoes.  Jessie wondered how she did it, how she managed to always look so cucumber fresh. 

Looking at Jenny made Jessie wish she had finished high school, and then she too could have gone to secretarial school and looked smart in cute little outfits, with cute little shoes.  Instead she wore jeans, T-shirts and sneakers to work, because being comfortable was important when you were on your feet eight hours a day. 

She often regretted dropping out of school.  If only she had stuck it out those last three months.  But no, back then she was far too anxious to make her debut into the working world. She felt she was wasting her time in a classroom.  She could not wait to get out into the real world and start earning money.

When Jessie heard that Muller’s Laundry & Dry Cleaning was looking for help she applied for a job and was hired on the spot.  The following Monday, instead of going to school, she proudly went to work.  At the time she was certain she was making the right decision, but now she was not so sure.  If she had graduated she could have her choice of careers.  Instead she worked in this laundry, this hot, steamy laundry and was probably stuck here forever.  Sure she was earning money, but Jenny Sullivan probably made double if not triple of what she was making.

At the sound of her name Jessie looked up from her work and saw Betty McGill frantically tapping her wristwatch.  She cast another glance at the wall clock and nodded at her friend.  It was just after 5:00 p.m.

“Are you okay?” Betty asked as they walked home, noticing that her friend was not her usual talkative self.

Jessie gave a listless shrug.  “Just thinking, you know.”

“About what?”

“The past.  The future.”

Betty frowned.  “That’s heavy thinking my friend.”

“Don’t you ever think about things?”

“Like what?”

“Like what the future holds for you.”

Betty shrugged her shoulders.  “I suppose I’ll meet a nice guy, get married and have kids some day.  What else is there?”

“A career.”

“A career!” Betty burst out laughing. “Jessie, you and I work in a laundry, I would hardly call that a career.”

“Don’t you ever wish you could do something else? Something a little more challenging, a little more sophisticated.”

Betty looked at her friend and smiled.  “Sure I do.  I would like to be a doctor or a lawyer or something else that earns me tons of money, but I’m not exactly qualified.”

Jessie hesitated before making the suggestion.

“We could go back to school.”

Betty laughed again.  “Jess it takes years to qualify as a doctor or a lawyer and we didn’t even finish high school.”

Jessie waved an impatient hand.  “I don’t mean that.  I mean, we could take a course, a secretarial course.”

“You mean learn to type and stuff?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Betty looked doubtful.  “I don’t know Jess, I’m sure there’s more to being an assistant than just typing.  I think you have to be smart for that sort of work.”

“We’ are smart Betty.” Jessie retorted with a small edge in her voice.

Betty continued. “And there is the small problem with a decent wardrobe.  You’ve seen the kind of outfits Jenny wears to work.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have those kinds of clothes.”

Jessie had to admit that Betty had a point.  Their wardrobe was a potential problem.  Both of them wore mainly jeans and T-shirts.  Hardly appropriate office wear.

“Any plans for tonight?” Betty asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Nothing special,” Jessie answered with a hint of boredom in her voice.  Same thing I do every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday night … ironing.”

“You still iron for your neighbours?”

Jessie nodded.  “Elizabeth and Clara are old, they can’t do their own ironing anymore and they are very grateful that I help them.  I do Elizabeth’s laundry on Mondays, Clara’s on Tuesdays and my own on Thursdays.”

Betty shook her head in wonder.  “I don’t know how you do it girl.  You iron all day long and then you go home to more ironing.  Haven’t you ever suggested to them that they could send out their stuff to a laundry?”

“No,” Jessie said vehemently, “and I’m not about to, it’s extra money for me.”

That night after she finished dinner and washed the dishes, Jessie set up her ironing board and iron and collected the ironing from the storage room.  She switched on the stereo, selected a CD, plugged in headphones and turned up the volume.  She liked nothing better than to sing along with a CD. 

Singing along with a CD was something Jessie loved to do while ironing.  She sometimes worried that the neighbours might hear her, but thought this unlikely.  She never heard a sound from them, so she figured they couldn’t hear her either.  If her voice drifted down to the street through the wide open balcony doors that was different.  People on the street below couldn’t see her.  They didn’t know where she was, didn’t know who she was.

When the last piece of clothing was ironed and folded, Jessie packed away the iron and the board, put the kettle on for a cup of coffee and decided she would curl up with a book on the couch.  She would slip between the pages and let herself be transported to a sleepy Irish village with some wide awake citizens.  She loved the little village in which the story was set, and she loved the people in it.  They seemed so real.  They were not the pretentious high society types with tons of money.  They were not professionals with glamorous careers.  They were ordinary people, with ordinary lives, who loved and cried, worked and struggled, and somehow made a success of what they were doing.  Considering herself ordinary too, Jessie liked reading success stories.  They gave her hope and courage for the future.

When the clock struck eleven she reluctantly closed her book and carried it with her to bed. She stopped to close the balcony door and switch off the lights.  In bed she would read another couple of pages and before falling asleep and dreaming of a wonderful future.