Her voice took on a suspicious tone. “Yes? Was there a problem?” The sound of typing floated over the phone. “He left a five-star rating and paid in full without any complaints.”
“Oh, well, um.”
Talisha sighed. “I have an interview in eight minutes, Sam. Spit it out.”
“We’re dating.”
Silence spun out a bit too long for comfort. “What do you mean, you’re dating?”
“I know it’s unprofessional, but we grew close over those two weeks and, well, we’re dating. Absolutely nothing inappropriate happened during the job. Only afterward.”
Something that sounded a lot like a snort of laughter came from the speaker. When Talisha spoke again, she sounded as professional as ever. “I don’t need to hear about the inappropriate things you’re doing with him now, Samuel.” Before I got a chance to apologize or explain my mortification, she went on. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened. He didn’t file any complaints, and the job is over. Of course, you’ll be crossed off the list of potentials if he needs to use our services again.”
“Of course! That would be weird, getting paid to watch Evie now that we’re… Well.”
“Indeed.” Talisha sighed. “I have that other appointment. Best of luck to you both.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when the call disconnected. I didn’t need that worry hanging over me or any guilt of starting a relationship with a client.
One stressful phone call done. On to the next.
While I psyched myself up to call Prism House, I washed the orange juice off my hands and got a glass of water. The smell of baked ziti wafted down the hall, and Dave had joined Emilio at the table with a plate of his own. I closed my bedroom door and settled on the edge of the bed with my resume open on the laptop in front of me.
The phone rang three times before someone picked up, and then the harried voice only said, “One moment please!” The handset thunked onto a desk, at least that’s what it sounded like, and then a voice shouting “If you drop that glitter on the floor, I’m going to…” retreated into the distance.
I sat on my bed, eyes wide, and waited. Just as I was about to wonder if I should disconnect and try to call back later, someone who sounded quite young picked up the phone and spoke. “Hi, you’ve reached the rainbow asylum. Please leave your name, number, and a short musical theater piece from—”
The voice cut off, some more muted mumbling met my ears, and the original voice came back. “I am so sorry about that. Things are a bit hectic around here today. How can I help you?”
“This is Prism House, right?” I wasn’t sure if I’d accidentally reached a private residence or perhaps a chaotically managed kindergarten.
“Oh, dear me, yes. I’m so sorry. You’ve reached Prism House. How can I help you?” The sound of a door banging closed came through the phone, and the man sighed.
“My name is Samuel Burkhart. My professor, Dr. Lawrence Endicott, told me about the available internship starting this summer. I’m graduating with my masters in youth psychologyand counseling this May, and I’d love to be considered for the opportunity.”
“Oh!” The man sounded shocked, and a tinge of embarrassment colored his next words. “Well, that wasn’t a very good first impression, was it? I mean me! For Prism House, not you. You made a great first impression.” He groaned dramatically. “Monique is going to kill me.”
I had no clue what to say or do. This wasn’t anything like I expected the phone call to go. “Should I call back at another time?”
“No, no, no. Things have calmed down here a bit. Let me set up an appointment with Moni. Monique Hill. She’s the director here and in charge of hiring and stuff. My name’s Paddy McGillicuddy, would you believe. Totally Irish, not a ginger.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “I’m a redhead.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Are you Irish?”
“Um, a sprinkling somewhere back a few generations, I guess.”
I heard a door bang open and Paddy held the phone away from his mouth when he snapped, “Terrence, please stop playing that song on repeat, and did you get the glitter away from Marley? Yes, good. Now, go. I’m on a very important phone call.”
I waited a moment, but when Paddy didn’t say anything, I spoke up. “Um, should I make an appointment with Monique Hill? I’m available afternoons and Thursday morning next week.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry! I forgot I was on the phone. Let me see…” After a few more silent moments, he came back to me. “Thursday morning works. We’ll see you at nine. Just ask for Monique and someone will point you in the right direction. Hopefully. Bye!” He hung up.
Blinking, I sat stunned on my bed with my phone in my hand. That was the oddest professional phone call I’d ever madein my life. It sent a strange mixture of joy and fear through me. Prism House sounded like a fun place to be, but maybe a nightmare to work at if things were so disorganized and random on a regular basis.
Still, a counselor wouldn’t be responsible for managing glitter or singing show tunes, right? I’d been so excited about the prospect of using my degree at an LGBTQ+ friendly youth center that I hadn’t spent a lot of time looking into it before the call.
I set my phone down and pulled my laptop closer as I settled against the headboard. At first glance, the website gave the same basic information as the brochure Dr. Endicott had given me. I clicked to the services and events page. There were music nights and art days, but they also had anti-bullying groups, homework and tutoring sessions, career assistance programs, and outreach programs including one run by an attractive police officer with a warm smile and a rainbow bezel watch prominently displayed on his wrist. The last page had details about raising donation funds for an expansion.
