Page 63 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

Shaking my head clear of thoughts, I returned the scrub brush to my custodial cart and pushed it to a corner of the bathroom, out of the way. I washed my hands thoroughly after removing my gloves, dried them, and made sure I looked as presentable as possible in the mirror.

Down in Mr. Barton’s office, I found him clicking his mouse violently, a frown on his face. That did not bode well for our meeting. However, when he saw me in the doorway, he let go of the mouse, smiled at me, and waved me inside. He motioned for me to close the door, so I did, then sat down in the chair in front of his impressive desk.

“Your citizenship test is later today, isn’t it?” Mr. Barton asked, surprising me.

That was not what I’d expected him to say.

“Yes,” I said. “I put in a request for the afternoon off, but if—”

He chuckled and fluttered a hand at me.

“I’m sure you did everything by the rules,” he said. “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”

I thought about that.

“No,” I said. “I don’t think so. I’ve been studying a lot. I always pass the online practice quizzes. I think I will pass.”

Nodding along, Mr. Barton seemed pleased with my response.

“Do you take the oath or whatever right after you pass?”

I shrugged. “If they have one scheduled, but usually it is a few weeks later. They said I might have to wait for a letter in the mail with a date and time.”

Again, he nodded.

“And then you’re a citizen of the U.S.?”

I nodded. Somehow, I managed a smile. Not that I had to fake being happy about finally obtaining citizenship; I was exhausted.

“Yes.”

“Well,” he said, “I suppose we have to talk about my promise?”

“Which promise is that?”

I was so tired.

“I told you when you applied here that once you were a citizen, you could apply for a translator job? Or an interpreter.”

“Oh. I understand if there is nothing available right now.”

He shook his head and laughed, obviously amused with me.

“Do you want to be an interpreter? Or a translator?”

“Of course.”

“Which would you prefer?”

“Interpreter?” I said, though it came out like a question. “Translating might feel lonely. I would be grateful for either, but getting to talk to people all day would be more fun.”

He chuckled. “Do you want to keep working for Source Language, Inc., Enzo?”

“Yes,” I nodded vehemently. “I love it here.”

That seemed to please him.

“You’ve been a great asset to us for these last several months,” he said. “You’ve made me proud that I saw potential in you. Though, I don’t want to take credit for your tenacity. Since you still want the job, the day you become a U.S. citizen, you’ll also become an interpreter for Source Language, Inc.”