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The phone rang, and Judy took off her clip-on earring before lifting the receiver up. “You can wait in the rec room, if ya like.”
“Thanks.”
As I walked down the hallway, it felt like I’d slipped into some sort of alternate reality. A sense of déjà vu came over me. Just like everything else in this town, it was the same and totally different. In place of the dated vinyl flooring that was peeling at the edges, there was new wide-plank laminate flooring that looked like hardwood. The walls, which were once a shocking shade of canary yellow, were now a soothing sage green. The harsh fluorescent lighting had been swapped for softer can lights.
When I stepped into the rec room, I saw that there were new tables, couches, and a sitting area. It looked much more cozy and homier and less institutional. The room was empty except for a girl seated at one of the tables, coloring.
She looked up when I walked in, and I smiled, “Hi.”
“Hi!” she smiled back at me. “I’m Harper.”
“Hi, Harper. I’m Ruby.”
Her head tilted to the side. “You look like a princess.”
“Thank you; so do you.” I’d worked as a party princess for years when I first moved to the city. It was one of the many service industry jobs that I’d done to support myself. I’d played Ariel, Cinderella, Aurora, Rapunzel, Belle, and Snow White.
“Are you here to see your grandad, too?” she asked.
“No, I’m here to visit my friend.”
I lowered down on the couch as my phone buzzed, alerting me to a text message. I pulled it out of my purse, hoping it was Remi. I still hadn’t heard from him since I left him the message that our mom got married. When I saw it was Peter, I tapped on TikTok without even reading the text.
As the app opened, I noticed that Harper gathered up her crayons and moved to another chair, hopping with her feet together. I was scrolling through my FY page when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her hopping to yet another seat. Then, a minute or so later, she picked up her crayons and paper and hopped to a third. At first, I thought it was a game she was playing. But the fifth time, I noticed that she sighed and almost looked like she was doing it out of obligation.
“Are you trying to find the best seat?” I asked.
“I have to sit on all of them,” she explained.
“So you know which one you like the best?” I followed up.
“No, because I don’t want them to have their feelings hurt.”
“Whose feelings?”
“The chairs,” she stated earnestly. “If I sit on one, then the other ones will get hurt feelings.”
“Oh.”
Her shoulders dropped, and her head fell back. “But there’s so many chairs. And I can’t walk because of my fins.”
“Your fins?”
She nodded. “I’m a mermaid.”
“Right.” Two things struck me about this little girl. One, she had a very good imagination. And two, she was very empathetic. I could see she truly believed that if she sat on one chair and not the others, then the neglected chairs would feel rejected.
“Here, I’ll help.” I stood up and sat down on the cushion beside me.
Her face lit up. “Thank you.”
“Have you sat on those?” I asked, pointing to the chairs lining the walls.
“Not yet.”
“Okay, you color; I’ll go sit on them.”
She nodded and watched me like a hawk as I walked across the room and sat on all ten chairs.
