Happy Faces Daycare Centre
Karen was diligently scrubbing the counter where she had prepared lunch for the daycare centre kids when Sandra stuck her head in the kitchen doorway. “They’re all napping at the same time,” Sandra said. “How rare is that?” While Karen carefully considered her answer, Sandra continued. “Join me for coffee?”
Glancing at her watch, Karen replied, “It’s after 2:00. If I have caffeine after lunch, it interferes with my sleep at night.” Then she turned her back and resumed scrubbing the counter.
Sandra smiled ironically. She thought, Even though I’ve known her longer than two years, I sometimes forget she takes everything literally. She needs clear, specific, directions. As well, she had learned not to be offended by Karen’s social skills. She would have considered anyone else turning her back to scrub the counter without any chitchat intentionally rude; from Karen, it wasn’t bad manners; it was simply her way. Aloud, she said, “I would like you to take a break and sit with me while I have some coffee. You could have something too, if you like.”
Karen beamed. “I would love a break,” she said. “I think there’s some cake left from dessert at lunch. Let me check.”
As Karen looked in the frig, Sandra affectionately pondered the contradiction that was Karen. Her memory’s great, but she doesn’t make the most routine connections between things, or follow a chain of logic to its next obvious step. Nor does she understand ‘discretion’. She’s incredibly naïve in what she’ll tell someone. Then she entered the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table. The kids weren’t allowed into the kitchen, eating snacks and lunches at their own tiny tables in the large open space that had been made by removing most of the walls in the old house, leaving only the kitchen and bathroom on the main floor intact.
Sitting, she thought, Nice to sit on a regular chair. She was larger than the average woman though not obese, but the child-sized chairs she had to use during the day didn’t come close to fitting her. ‘Hangover’ had a completely different meaning for her at Happy Faces Day Care Centre. Whenever she stood, it was a long way up too.
I wish I had Karen’s metabolism, she thought, watching Karen get the cake. If I worked out here in the kitchen all day like her, I would probably be fifty pounds overweight, not twenty.
Karen was a tall, slim blonde. She doesn’t even wear makeup or have to make any effort to be beautiful, Sandra thought, surreptitiously admiring Karen’s flawless complexion, high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and naturally red lips. I bet she didn’t even pluck those eyebrows to make them perfect like that, she thought, and I know I’ve never seen mascara or eyeliner on her. It must be nice not to need it.
Mothers dropped off most of the kids at the Day Care Centre, but there was the occasional man, often a father replacing a mother with a temporary schedule change. If such men caught a glimpse of Karen in the kitchen, they usually found an excuse to linger a few minutes trying to get a more prolonged look, and Sandra secretly snickered at their antics. However, as much as she could have been jealous of Karen’s beauty, she wasn’t, realizing Karen’s gorgeousness did not make up for her other limitations.
Karen pulled out the opposite chair at the table after giving Sandra a cup of coffee from the coffee maker she kept going all day, double sugar, no milk, just as she knew Sandra liked it. She remembered everyone’s preference. She said, “Nice to sit. I don’t think I was off my feet all day.”
“You’re allowed, you know,” said Sandra. “You keep everything in here spotless, the lunches you make are excellent, and snacks are never late. No one would object if you took an occasional break.”
“Mrs. Owens came in this morning,” replied Karen hesitantly, naming the owner.
“What did she want?” asked Sandra.
“I don’t know,” answered Karen. “She didn’t say and I can never tell.”
“Was she acting like there was a problem?” asked Sandra. She smiled nonchalantly while looking at her coffee to ease Karen’s obvious discomfort. She had learned Karen could be keenly observant as well as having an excellent memory, but couldn’t interpret what she saw in other people. For example, she was unable to decipher facial expressions, connect them to the thoughts and feelings behind them. Sandra added, “If ten is her biggest happy smile and one is her angriest frown, how would you rate her?”
After a minute’s thought, Karen responded, “A seven. Not as big a smile as when that government guy gave her the cheque and the newspaper reporter took a picture.”
“That probably means she was happy about something, not upset or checking up on you,” Sandra explained.
“How do you know that?” asked Karen. “She didn’t say anything, just got herself some coffee and stood leaning against the counter while she drank it. She was looking towards me cutting up carrots for the soup I made for lunch. That made me nervous.”
Sandra shrugged. She knew explaining would only make Karen feel inadequate since she still wouldn’t be able to do it herself. In the first several months Karen had worked at the Centre, Sandra had thought she could teach her such things with effort and patience. Now she knew it only made Karen feel stupid, and she herself got frustrated. “I just know,” was all she said.
She realized from her work with kids it was important to explain when one of them asked about something, and she usually had non-stop patience. But she also knew it was important not to overload them with more detail than they could handle. She had once made the mistake of giving a long, complicated explanation about reproduction in response to the question ‘Where do I come from?’ when all the child had been asking was where she had been born. It had taken a while to accept Karen’s limitations with people, despite the intelligence that was obvious to Sandra in other ways. She knew Karen was not going to be able to learn that particular skill, reading people, no matter how badly she wanted to or how patiently Sandra explained.
“I have something to ask you,” Sandra said, changing the subject. “I’m signing up for a beginner’s Creative Writing course that starts tomorrow evening at Riverbend Community College. I want you to come with me and take it too.” She knew she had to be clear and direct, or the invitation might end up like the original request to join her for coffee.
Karen’s reaction was two-fold. On the one hand, she had liked school, so the idea was intriguing. She had liked the routine, the organization, and in particular, the clear instructions that came with many topics. On the other, there were a few subjects she had difficulty with, and she had always felt like an outsider in groups of people, rarely saying anything. For the most part, she had liked in-class time, disliked out-of-class things.
“Just one course?” she asked. “We would only go for the class, then leave?”
Sandra nodded. “I’ll even pick you up so you don’t have to take the bus.” After a brief pause, she added, “I’ll take you home too,” not being sure Karen would make that assumption. She didn’t say anything about registration, intending to do that herself. She would pay for Karen since she felt guilty for manipulating her into going in order to have company. She finished, “You said one time you like to write because it’s something you can do on your own without other people. Maybe there’s something we’ll learn. If not, it’s a night out.”
She knew Karen had no social life, despite being an attractive twenty-seven year old. She didn’t add someone had recommended night school courses to her as an alternative to single’s bars where physical beauty seemed to be the only criteria for attracting attention. She knew her weight had a negative impact. If only I had Karen’s looks, she had thought more than once as she left a bar without having had a single conversation with a male.
She knew none of her clubbing friends would be interested in a college course, so she had decided to ask Karen, though she knew Karen had been referring to writing about things she had read, not creative writing. Karen had said putting ideas into her own words helped her understand and remember. Sandra justified her request to herself by thinking Writing is writing.
Finishing her coffee, she stood, saying, “Okay? I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6:30.”