Chapter 4
10 YEARS LATER
Stephanie's POV
"I can't believe today is the last day. It seemed like retirement day was at least another ten years down the road."
"Dr. Mitchell, while I'm sorry to lose my job, I'm happy for you. You deserve to have time to spend with your family, especially those cute grandkids of yours."
"Michelle, finding you was a blessing. You made the last eight years so much more bearable. I'm glad that you decided to get your Physical Therapy certification along with your massage therapist license."
"You footing the bill made it possible."
"How are things on the job hunt going?"
"They're not. It seems that I'm over-qualified. Jobs in spas as a massage therapist don't pay well; I'd have to rely on tips. In the medical field, most places want doctors of physical therapy. It seems my certificate is obsolete. It's incredible that even in physical therapy offices or orthopedic practices, I'm not a good fit."
As we are standing in the parking lot, talking, a car pulls into the lot. It is one of our semi-regular patients, John Wodrowski.
"Hi, Dr. M, Ms. Orr. How are you doing?"
"Good, John. We haven't seen you in a few months."
"I know, I was working out of Boston. I started at a new security company since I retired from the Army. They were training me. They just opened up here in Trenton three weeks ago."
"How is your back?"
"Not bad. I was hoping I could get an appointment with you, Doc, and Ms. Plum."
"I'm sorry, John, but I'm retired. Today was my last day."
John looks crestfallen. "Man, that sucks. You were the best chiropractor I ever went to. I'm gonna miss you. Where are you working now, Ms. Orr?"
"I actually don't have a new location yet."
"The company I work for, Rangeman, is looking for a physical therapist, part-time at least, with the possibility for full-time employment. The company is mostly made up of military guys. There are at least three guys who are getting PT at any given time. Plus, with your massage license, you could provide that service too. You should apply. You know just how much pressure to apply and where to apply it. I'm always so much better after I've been treated by you."
"Really? What would the hours be like?"
"I'm not sure. Cal, Vince, and Manny are setting up the office and conducting the interviews. They will eventually run Trenton. In a month, the Core Team is coming to assist in the setup. I'll talk to Manny.
"Thanks, let me give you my card." I pull a business card out of my purse and write my cell phone number on it. I hand the card to John.
"I'll put in a good word for you. Would you consider opening your own place?"
"Probably not. It's too much work; with the twins, I need stability, steady income, and benefits."
"Keep me posted. I hope to see you around."
"Me too."
John gets in his car and drives away. He is a good looking man, about six feet tall, with sandy brown hair and light brown eyes. He is fairly muscular and a gentleman.
"I think John has a thing for you, Michelle."
"I don't think so. Besides, who would want to hook themselves up with a woman with two kids. I have nothing to offer a man."
"Michelle, you are too young to not be dating. I know you have your children, and they are your priority, but you also deserve a social life. You're only young once. You don't want to have regrets when you are my age."
I sigh. I hear what Dr. Mitchell is saying, and he is right. "Doc, the twins' father was special. I felt a connection to him that I've never felt with anyone else. The one week that we spent together is embedded in my brain. I think I compare every other man to him. I guess in some ways, I'm hoping to bump into him again, to see if there is still a spark between us. Look, I'll consider dating once I get a job."
"If you need anything from me, and I mean anything, please call. I'll miss you, Stephanie Michelle Orr."
"I'll miss you too, Doc." We give each other a hug before he hands me an envelope with my final check. I try to hold back the tears that have been threatening to fall all day. Who would have thought that I would be a physical therapist ten years ago? Then, I was in college, on my way to a business degree, when I discovered that I was pregnant with twins. My mother married me off to the first guy who would agree, then disowned me when I divorced him after finding him playing hide the salami with Joyce Barnhardt on my dining room table. However, my father and grandmother stood by my side. Don't get me wrong, dad was disappointed in me, but he respected my wishes to keep my babies and raise them as a single mother after I decided to divorce Dickie. When the twins were three, six months after my divorce, my mom received an urgent call from my sister, St. Valerie, and she immediately moved to California to help her eldest and favorite daughter. While Dickie was willing to allow the world to think he supported my children and me, he didn't provide me with money for any extras. I could use household money for clothes, food, diapers, etc., but I couldn't buy them toys or movies. I wasn't allowed to place them in any programs, like Mommy and me. So, with Rose's help, I got a job with a chiropractor, Dr. Mitchell, as his receptionist. I was out of school six months at that time, and the twins were just shy of a year. Dr. Mitchell was a friend of Rose's father. When his massage therapist quit on him one day, I stepped in to help. It seems I was a natural. So, he paid for me to get my license. Then, he suggested that I become a physical therapist because he said I was great with the patients. So, with his support, I went back to school. At the time, physical therapy was a certificate program, not a medical degree. That changed a few years ago. As much as I would love to be a Doctor of Physical Therapy, I can't afford that right now. Dr. Mitchell treated me well, giving me what I needed to raise my children.
When I first started working for Dr. Mitchell, there was another nurse there also named Stefanie. It was confusing figuring who he was speaking to and who the patients wanted to talk to, so I started to go by my middle name Michelle. Since I was professionally using my ex-husband's name, it was easier to go by Michelle Orr than Stephanie Orr. While the inhabitants of the Burg knew I was poor Richard Orr's bitch ex-wife, those new to the area didn't put two and two together, giving me some anonymity.
My dad stayed behind in Trenton when my mom went to California. They are unofficially divorced. He watches my kids every day from when they get off the bus until I get home. I put them on the bus for school in the morning, then come to work. It's not easy, but I make it work. Part of my problem finding a suitable job are the hours. Almost every place I interview at wants me there by eight, and I need to work to five most days, and sometimes even later than that. I can't manage that as a single mom. I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that I am in my driveway.
I arrive home at five-thirty to the aroma of pot roast cooking. I see my dad in my living room, helping Lucia and Alex with their homework. I say hi to everyone then enter the kitchen, where I find my Grandma Mazur busy fixing dinner.
"Hi, Grandma, I wasn't expecting you here."
"Well, what else am I going to do? I have to cook for myself. After cooking for four-plus people most of my life, I don't know how to make anything for one person. I wind up with a freezer full of leftovers in two days. Besides, I know you work hard, and it's one less thing you need to worry about."
My Grandma Mazur, who is my mother's mother, still lives in Trenton. She moved into a senior center, where her rent is based on how much her income is. Since she is on social security, she doesn't pay much. My father lived with me briefly after mom left for California, but about six months later, he moved into a one-bedroom apartment in a building on the corner of St. James and Dunworth. Aside from having a bathroom from the 1970s, it's the perfect place for him. He typically comes over to my house when the bus comes to drop off the twins after school, and he stays until I get home. Some days he even had dinner with us. Grandma coming over to cook is relatively new. My grandfather passed away eight months ago, and it was after that Grandma started to ask dad to drop her off here. I offered to let her move in, but she said that I needed my space, that if she needed me to watch the kids, she'd be here, but otherwise, it's good for me to be on my own.
I worry about her, but she's right. Though I have a lovely house just outside the Burg, it only has three bedrooms. I'd be sleeping on the couch if grandma moved in. Dad helped me buy this house when he and mom sold their half of a duplex in the Burg. Until that point, I was living in a two-bedroom apartment. I know both my grandmother and father hope that I start dating, settling down with a good man, but I don't have time to date. Besides, I don't want to bring someone into the twins' lives who may not be there in five years. They are my world. Maybe in another six years, when they are fifteen. Though I must admit, there is a part of me that would like to have more children. Oh, well, the Burg men don't do it for me. They want me to be my mom, a housewife. Not that there is anything wrong with being a housewife, but that lifestyle isn't for me. Though, if I don't find a job soon, that's what I'll be by default. I shudder at that thought.
"Stephanie, is everything okay?"
"I'm sorry, Grandma. What were you saying?"
"You must really be someplace good. I was asking if you got the job in the rehab place."
"No, I didn't. I can't work the hours they wanted me. One of our patients came by today. He's been out of town for the last few months and wasn't aware that Dr. Mitchell was retiring. He told me that the company he's working for is looking to hire a physical therapist. He told me that he'd have his bosses give me a call."
"That sounds promising. There is still about another fifteen minutes until dinner is ready. Go upstairs and get changed. I'll have Lucia and Alex set the table."
"Thank you, Grandma. I don't know what I'd do without you and dad."
"Please, baby girl, don't worry about it. I love you. You needed us, you and my great-grandchildren out there. You're doing what you meant to do. Dickie wasn't the man for you. Getting pregnant, divorcing the Dick, being able to chart your own life, that was the best thing that ever happened to you."
I kiss my grandmother on the cheek before going upstairs. I take off my scrubs, placing them in the hamper. I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I fix my ponytail, then dig my cell phone out of my bag—time to charge it. Just as I'm about to plug it in, it rings.
"Hello?"
"I'm looking for Michelle Orr."
"This is she. Who's this?"
"I'm sorry, my name is Manuel Ramos. I'm calling from Rangeman. Woody gave us your name as a possible PT. Can you tell me a little about yourself?"
"Woody?" I ask, confused about how he got my number.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Mr. Ramos says while laughing, "You probably know him as John Wodrowski."
"Yes, John. I just saw him a little while ago. Well, as you know, My name is Stephanie Michelle Orr, but I professionally go by Michelle Orr. I have been a physical therapist for about three years now and a licensed massage therapist for about seven years. I've been working with Dr. Mitchell for just shy of eight years. Since he is retiring, I'm currently out of work. I have two children, and I need a job that works around school hours. I can't start before nine, and I would prefer to finish by five each day. I don't really want to work nights or weekends."
"I know we can accommodate your hours, Ms. Orr."
"Michelle, please."
"Michelle. However, I would need a letter of recommendation from your former employer. We will be running a full background check on you. We often take contracts with the US Military and other agencies and need to make sure that you can get clearance for some of the stuff you might overhear."
"I understand. When would I come in for an interview, and if you hire me, how soon can I start?"
"I would like to schedule an interview with you for tomorrow morning. How does nine-thirty sound?"
"That's perfect. Do I need to bring anything?"
"Just a company of your resume, state licenses, your driver's license, and social security card."
"Okay. No problem."
He asks me a few more questions on the spelling of my name, my date of birth, and my schooling. Then, he gives me the address for the building where they are housed. I write it down, thankful to be making progress on finding a job. I hang up and say a silent prayer. Then, I head downstairs for dinner. Tomorrow is looking to be a good day.