[August 20]

It was Thursday, and classes started Monday. Eric was already at the tail end of summer training and preparing for the first day of school. Time was running out. No one was going to hire her.

While Tami half watched Julie drawing circles with a fat crayon on a sheet of construction paper, she thought about what other non-school related counseling jobs she could apply for. The ringing phone interrupted her reverie.

The secretary of West Morgan High was on the other end of the line. She said there had been a sudden opening, and they wanted Tami to come in for an interview right away. Could she be there in forty-five minutes?

Tami called Eric on his office phone, hoping and praying he wasn't on the field yet. Neither of them had a cell phone or would for another three years. That was an expense they could not justify.

"Yell-ow," answered a cheerful voice.

"May I please speak to Coach Taylor? This his wife."

"Your old lady wants you, Eric."

"Was that the head coach?" Tami asked with some disbelief. The man seemed rather unprofessional.

"Hell no," Eric muttered. "That's Mikey. He's an assistant. Listen, I'm headed out to the field. I'm at work. I can't be talking on the phone." As much as Eric liked his new coaching gig, he'd been a bit of a nervous mess about making a good impression ever since summer training started. This was his first "real" job and marked the start of his climb.

Tami understood that, but she was in a bit of a bind. She told him of her interview opportunity and her need to deposit Julie somewhere. Unfortunately, they had not yet made any friends in Arlington.

"Well, see if Karen can watch her," Eric said.

"She's in classes."

"See if my dad can. He can probably flex his schedule."

"Eric, even if he can, it'll take him at least a half hour to get here. My interview is in forty-five minutes! I'll be late! Can I just drop her off with you on my way? I could bring a blanket. She could sit on the sidelines and play with blocks."

"Tami, I'm working. I can't keep an eye on her while I'm training my JV guys."

"Eric, this is the only interview request I've gotten!"

"It's not going to look good, me bringing my daughter to work. You know she's going to wander off. She might go start playing in the parking lot."

"Then don't let her!"

"I can't keep an eye on her when I'm coaching. It's not safe."

"This is important to me, Eric!"

"I'm going to make a poor impression if you drop her off and I'm trying to do - "

"- Fine. Karen was right!"

"Right about what?"

"It's all about you and your career! You don't give a damn about me or my goals!" The frustration had overwhelmed her. She was angry, but more at the situation than at him. He was a convenient target, however.

There was a strange silence on the other end of the line. Just how angry had she sounded? Eric finally spoke, softly. "That's not true, babe. I do care. I just...listen...uh...why don't you bring Julie by the field? You could put her on a blanket on the sidelines. She could play with blocks or something."

[*]

Tami resembled a firefighter getting ready to leave the station as she got dressed. She applied make-up as if cosmetology were a competitive speed sport. At this time of day, fortunately, it took her only ten minutes to get to Bowie High.

When Eric saw her coming, he blew his whistle and shouted, "Water break!" The handful of players that he appeared to be in charge of stopped doing high knees and walked toward the water barrel. As Tami handed Julie over to Eric, she could see the head coach, a tall, lean gray-haired African-American man, look up from his clipboard from several yards away. The man shifted his hat and appeared to frown, though it was hard to tell from this distance. Eric was right. He wasn't going to make a good impression doing this.

"How long is this going to take?" Eric asked.

"I have no idea," she said. "I'm sorry." She was feeling bad about lashing out at him earlier. "I'll get back here as soon as I can."

"You look real pretty."

She was wearing high heels, a pale blouse, and a knee-length skirt. "I want to look professional."

"Professionally pretty." He winced. "That's not what I meant. That sounds bad."

She laughed. "Thanks for doing this, hon."

"Good luck."

As she turned and began walking to her car, she heard two loud whistles. Not coach's whistles. Cat-call- style whistles. After that followed laughter from several teenage boys. And then she heard Eric shouting, "That's ten laps for everyone!"

"Why everyone?" a player shouted.

"Because almost everyone laughed."

"I didn't!" a boy shouted.

"Then you'll especially want to thank Hernandez and Jackson for your laps later." He blew his whistle. "Now get running!"

"Yeah!" Julie shouted from where she stood, close at this heels.

Tami smiled and hurried through the open gate of the field to her car.

[*]

Tami didn't much care for the interviewing principal, a bald, skinny, forty something man named Ronald Monroe, who kept saying things like, "Now, if you get this job, you're going to want to avoid low-cut shirts, because the boys are going to love you" and "Now, if you get this job, be sure to stop by and say hi to me at lunch," and, "Now, if you get this job, your smile will light up the school." She also didn't like the part where he said, "This job is part-time. You'd be our secondary counselor. You'd help with scheduling."

"Scheduling?" Tami had not earned a B.A. in Psychology to do scheduling. "I was hoping to counsel students."

"Well...our primary counselor handles all that. He's good with the kids."

Tami could be good with the kids.

"We just need someone an extra two days a week to help with the scheduling and class changes and field some of the parents who like to complain and that sort of thing."

"You want someone to...field complaining parents?"

He made a motion as if tossing a baseball and laughed. "Yeah. I bet you'd be good at that, Ms. Taylor. Especially if you meet with the dads."

"Mrs. Taylor," she corrected him. Maybe that would stop all the inappropriate comments. "My husband is a history teacher and a football coach at Bowie High in Arlington. He used to play football. For Baylor." Just so, you know, her tone said, he's a strong and sizeable man.

"Yes, well, you're clearly vivacious. I'm sure you'd have the energy for the job. You'd work Tuesday and Thursday 7 AM to 4 PM."

Just two days? "So it's not a salaried position?"

"Not in the sense of a position with benefits. It's part-time. Fifteen hours a week."

"That sounds like 18 hours a week."

"Well, you'd have a thirty minute lunch break. You wouldn't get paid for that."

"Then 17 hours a week."

"Maybe it is 17 hours a week. You'd be paid $450 a month, and you'd work eleven months of the year. You'd have all of July off. Be back in August for scheduling."

Tami narrowed her eyes as she attempted to do the math in her head. "That's about $6 an hour." She was already making $6.50 an hour by the time she stopped working in the Baylor Admissions Office, and she hadn't even had a degree yet. Had she really gone through college just to get paid less?

"I don't know the exact figure," Principal Monroe said, "But it's a very rewarding job. You can start on Monday."

"I have the job?" Tami asked.

"Can I get one of the secretaries to get you started on the paperwork?"

The knot of disappointment in Tami's stomach began to unravel toward resignation. This was the only offer on the table. Yet she didn't like the idea of not actually counseling anyone, and she didn't like this man who would be her boss. She would be bringing in less than $5,000 a year for the family. She sighed. "I need to discuss it with my husband."

"I'd have thought an independent lady such as you wouldn't need her husband's permission."

"We make decisions, together, for the family unit." Mostly, she just wanted time to think about whether or not she could stomach this job.

"Well, okay, then," Principal Monroe said, rising from behind his desk and extending her his hand, "But I better hear a yes by tomorrow, or we go to the next applicant."

Reluctantly, she shook his hand. On the way out, she glanced at the secretary, a pretty, early-30-something woman, who gave her a sympathetic look.

Tami frowned all the way to her car.