And then she said, “Carly, you’ve been working here three years. You can call me Margaret.”
“I don’t think I can,” I said. And I meant it. I don’t know why. It just felt wrong. Like calling
Translation Tools & Resourcesyour old
kindergarten teacher by her first name.
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She almost smiled. “All right,” she said. “Mrs. Whitaker it is.”
The next Thursday, there was a check on the counter for one hundred and twenty-five dollars
instead of one hundred.
The note said: Carly — Cost of living. — M.W.
That was all. Just those three words. She never mentioned it again. And every Thursday after that,
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the check was for a hundred and twenty-five.
It was in the fourth year that I found her on the bathroom floor.