Free A Not-So-Simple Life by Melody Carlson

she couldn’t afford to keep a dog. Well, the truth is, she can’t afford to keep a daughter either. If I got a dog, it would be completely mine. And I would take care of everything it needed. Still, I’m not sure how much that would cost. I’ve heard that vet bills can be expensive, and I’m not sure how I’d feel about buying dog food since it’s primarily meat. I guess I might have to think about that.
    Mostly I think I’d like a friend. But not just any friend. I’ve had friends in the past who have hurt me. I think the next time I make friends, serious friends, I’ll be very selective. Okay, that makes me laugh. Well, almost. I mean, here I am sitting by myself in a park where only old people walk, and I am feeling lonely and acting like I can be so choosy about a friend. Maybe I need to lower my standards. After all, I certainly lowered them when it came to employment. If you ask me, selling costly designer clothes is only a notch above selling red meat. Who woulda thunk?
June 25
    I keep hoping that Vivian’s mood swings will even out, but I’m beginning to think that, like Shannon, she is beyond hope. I’m fairly certain that she is beyond reason. I cannot understand how Em has lasted so long. Two years? I’ve only been here a little over two weeks, and I want to run the other direction every time Vivian opens her mouth.
    “How long do you think you’ll work here?” I asked Em earlier today. It was safe to talk since Vivian had just left to meet some friends for lunch. I’m surprised that she actually has friends, or maybe she’s making that part up. Maybe she’s actually sitting by herself at a corner table and reading the paper as she nibbles on a Caesar salad.
    “I don’t know…” Even though she was standing behind the counter, I could tell she was slipping off her shoes. Hopefully the video camera wasn’t catching this. Although I was sure Em had figured out how to avoid the cameras. I even had a suspicion that she might occasionally steal things, since I saw her carrying a pair of jeans over to a part of the shop that made no sense…except that it’s kind of a dead spot when it comes to the video camera. She set the jeans, which happened to be her size, at the bottom of a rack of oversize bags, and later that same day I noticed they had disappeared. Naturally, I would never mention this to anyone.
    “Do you have any specific career plans?” I asked her as I made myself look busy straightening a rack of dresses (for thesake of the cameras). “I mean, on down the line.” Em is twenty-two, and although she dropped out of college, I’d think she’d try to figure a way to complete her education.
    “I used to think I wanted to go to design school.” She leaned her elbows on the counter—another huge no-no when Vivian is around. “But it’s a pretty competitive field. I’m not so sure now.”
    “But if you really loved it…,” I tried, hoping to keep her talking. I can’t explain why, but I am so starved for friendship…it’s like I even imagine myself becoming friends with Em.
    “Vic and I used to love doing music,” she said dreamily.
    “You’re a musician?”
    “Not really. I mean, I can sing okay. And Vic is really brilliant on guitar. We used to have a band.”
    “What kind of music?”
    “Jazz mostly. Cool jazz. And we were doing pretty well at picking up gigs, just local bars and stuff. But it was fun.”
    “Why’d you stop?”
    “It wasn’t paying the bills. Vic took a real job…and then life got busy.”
    “It’s not easy being a musician.”
    She nodded. “I know.”
    I was pretty sure Em didn’t know about my dad’s career. Not that I want her to know, but I can usually tell if people know or not, especially if they are into music. Anyway,I had a feeling Vivian hadn’t mentioned it to her. She probably didn’t want Em to treat me differently or something. I was tempted to bring it up just then, to keep the conversation rolling. But it seemed a