I had to do something with all the money I’d taken. Rita thought about it a moment, then smiled broadly.

“I know just the thing. Come on!” She scooped up all the cash, grabbed my hand, and we rushed out of the apartment. For the rest of the afternoon, we spread the money around the city.

We gave a hundred dollar tip to a waitress who served us coffee, another hundred to the local girl scout troop, a few hundred to the homeless shelter, and a few hundred more to the animal rescue. After a few more contributions here and there, we returned home, exhausted but giggling and content.

***

On that first morning of my job hunt, Rita was all abuzz—proud but frantic—as she did my hair, perfected my makeup, and dressed me in her best blouse and skirt.

“There!” she exclaimed, stepping back to admire me after she was finally done. “Ready to take on the world!”

“You think so?” I asked, laughing and giving a little twirl.

“I know so! Now, here,” she said, handing me a small brown bag. “I packed your favorite. Carne asada torta with extra avocados. Find a shady spot and have it for lunch. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine on my way home from work, and we’ll have it, whether for celebration or consolation. Either way, get ready for some drinking tonight! Now go! Go!”

I guess her excitement must have rubbed off on me because I gave Rita a tight hug and a little excited squeal. With the lunch bag in one hand and a stack of applications in the other, I bounded out of the apartment. As I was going down the stairs, I ran into Mr. Tran, who had just picked up his mail.

“Today’s the big day?” he asked.

“Yup!”

“Remember what we talked about in class. A straight back and a high chin shows confidence!”

“I’ll remember that, Mr. Tran. Thank you!”

“Good luck!”

I gave him a wave and skipped down the stairs. I couldn’t believe it. I was really excited about finding a job! Who knows, it might be fun acting like a normal human again, at least for a little while. At the very least, it’d be good to treat Rita and the others after all they’d done for me.

As soon as I stepped out into the morning sunlight, though, all that excitement evaporated. There, standing in front of a purple van with Sally’s Flowers and Gifts painted on the side, was that stranger, Arlen Choi, with a big, goofy smile plastered on his face.

I’d had just about enough of him.

“Hi!” he said.

“Are you a stalker?” I asked, glaring at him.

“Wh-what?! N-no! Why would you say that?!”

“Because Rita and Eliz told me what a stalker is. They told me to watch out for creepy guys who give me weird looks and follow me around. That sounds an awful lot like you. You’ve been coming to our GED classes. Planting flowers and plants all around the building! Look at this place! It looks like a forest! So are you?”

“No! I’m not a stalker!”

“A stalker? Where?!” Davit stuck his head out of his second-story bedroom window, still in his pajamas and holding a baseball bat. Then, he spotted us on the sidewalk. “Oh, hey, Sera—and Arlen! What’re you doing here, my friend? Are you… Ooooohhhhh…” A devious grin spread across his face as his eyes flitted between me and Arlen. “You sly dog, you… If you want to date Sera, I can give you adv—”

Whack! Eliz’s hand smacked Davit’s head from behind before he could finish the sentence.

“Ow!” Davit yelled. Eliz shouted something in Armenian to him, and he timidly retreated into their apartment, rubbing his head.

Eliz looked out the window and smiled at me.

“Good luck today, Sera!” she said, waving.

“Thanks, Eliz! Me and Rita are gonna drink some wine and probably watch a new novela! We have your favorite juice, so come over, okay?”

“Okay! Sounds fun! I know you’ll find a job today!”

“I hope so!”

She smiled, then pulled her head back inside her apartment and closed the window.

“Job? What job?” Mr. Esso opened his first floor window and stuck his head out, sleepily rubbing his face. “Oh, Sera!” he said when his eyes had finally focused. “Is today your job hunt?”

“Yes, it is, Mr. Esso.”

“Well, good luck to you, my girl. When you’ve found a job, come talk to me. I’ll help you open a Roth IRA account. Remember, it’s never too early to start thinking about retirement.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Esso. Thank you.”

He let out a big yawn before going back into his apartment.

I waved, then my glare returned as I faced Arlen again. “Because if you are a stalker, I think you’ll find that I’m more difficult to handle than what you may expect.” As I was saying this, I felt my hands heat up as I got ready to vaporize him, depending on his answer.

“I told you, I’m not a stalker,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Then how did you know I was leaving this morning?”

“Because Rita told me. She said you would need a ride to your appointments, so she asked me to pick you up and drive you around.”

“You weren’t supposed to say that part, dummy!” shouted Rita, who was now leaning out her window.

I glanced up at her with an annoyed look. She smiled sheepishly, ducked back inside her apartment, and closed her blinds. A moment later, the slats separated, and I could see her eye peeking through.

I returned my attention to Arlen.

“I have to be downtown for some deliveries anyway,” he added quickly. “It really is no bother.”

I thought about all the bus transfers I would have to make and how hot and sweaty I would get.

“Fine,” I said.

He smiled goofily again and opened the door of the van. As I climbed into the passenger seat, I saw Mr. Diaz, wearing a neatly buttoned caramel cardigan, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Drive carefully, Arlen,” he said.

“Will do, Mr. Diaz.”

As Arlen was jogging around to the driver’s side, I met eyes with Mr. Diaz. He raised his cup of coffee to me, and I gave him an appreciative smile and a little wave. Then we were off.

We sat in silence for most of the bumpy fifteen-minute drive downtown. I could sense Arlen wanting to say something to me. Every once in a while, he would take a deep breath as if about to speak, but then there would only be a small sigh.

As for me, I felt an old, familiar feeling come over me, starting from the pit of my stomach. It was a feeling I knew very well. It had been with me on that day in Heaven, and it had stayed with me every single day I had spent in Hell: fear.

I rubbed my belly and took deep breaths to calm my nerves. Why was I afraid this time? Was it the job interview? As I thought about it, I realized that was exactly it. It was weird.

This was the first time I had felt real fear after returning to Earth. What about the interview was making me nervous? It wasn’t speaking to a stranger. That didn’t bother me at all. Then it finally dawned on me.

It was the thought of disappointing the people back at the apartment. They’re all pulling for me so much! What if I don’t find a job today? They’ll be so sad! They’ll try to cheer me up, of course, but... What if I don’t find a job again tomorrow? And the day after that? How will I be able to face them then?

Ughhhh…

“Are you okay?” Arlen asked with concern in his eyes.

“Yeah… Why?”

“Because you moaned.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, and you’re holding your stomach.”

“Oh, I’m just feeling a little nervous. That’s all.”

Arlen seemed relieved. We went back to being silent. Maybe it would be best to get my mind off the interview. I stared out the window at the towering skyscrapers passing by, and I marveled at how humans could build such titans in the time since I’d been gone.

We fell silent once again, Arlen gripping the steering wheel white-knuckled until we got to the first job interview: Bob’s Electronics.

“G-good luck!” Arlen said. “I’ll be here waiting for you!”

I glared at him suspiciously. He was looking a little hungry, so I grabbed the sack lunch that Rita had made for me and quickly went into the store.

***

Bob turned out to be a ruddy-cheeked man with more hair on his face than on his head. He stared at the sack lunch I was holding on my lap, which made me grip it even tighter. He cleared his throat with disdain, then looked down at my application in his hands.

“Under previous job experience, you put ‘boar hunter,’” he said, looking up at me with a skeptical eye.

“Yes.”

“Young lady, you do know that this is an electronics store. What in the world would a boar hunter know about electronics?”

He was right, of course. I didn’t know anything about electronics. Mailing the bill to the electric company for Rita was as close to a text as I’ve come. But the contempt in that man’s face made me so angry the sack lunch I was holding burst into flames, making Bob nearly fall over in his chair.

“Sorry,” I said. “I . . . like my food spicy.”

***

And so it went, interview after interview. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another: needs better computer skills, needs sales experience, personality too abrasive, whatever that means. If telling an interviewer that he looked like a boiled potato is being abrasive, well then . . . so be it.

At lunch, Arlen and I sat at a park bench next to a duck pond, sharing the now burnt torta that Rita had packed for me.

I guess he noticed that I was feeling pretty down because he bumped my shoulder and said, “Cheer up. It’s not easy finding a job.”

“How did you do it?” I asked.

He thought for a moment and said, “Did you know that plants can communicate with one another? Just a few inches underground, they’re connected by this vast network of fungi which they use to send signals and cues to one another. If a group of plants in a forest needs certain nutrients, another group from a resource rich area will send it to them.

“It doesn’t even matter if they’re different species. Plants and trees are intertwined in this incredible tapestry just below our feet. It may sound funny, but I feel privileged being able to work with them . . . like I’m being invited into this secret world of theirs.”

I looked around at the trees, their leaves rustling in the wind, and at the cattails growing next to the pond. Feeling a surge of guilt, I looked down at the bent blades of grass under my feet and slowly lifted my shoes.

“I’m lucky, I guess,” Arlen continued, “because I’ve always known that this is what I wanted to do with my life. And oftentimes, just learning what you’re passionate about is the hardest part of finding a job. Like you, for instance . . . what are the things you care about in this world?”

I thought about it for a second, but I could only think of two things:

“Cars . . . and ice cream,” I answered.

“Well, there you go!” Arlen said. “Let me take a look at those applications.”

I took out the dozen or so remaining applications from my bag and handed them to Arlen, who shuffled through them. “Right here!” he said, flicking the corner of the paper with a finger. “I think we have a winner.”