The Cleaner

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The smile has been with her all day. From the moment the elevator doors closed on Joe’s smile, she’s been able to think of little else. She’s always thought his big, expressionistic smiles were so natural, so pure, because they were the same as Martin’s. But this morning’s smile was something different. Pure? She thinks so. Joe has a pure soul, but there is something about it, something she is struggling to recognize. In those few seconds Joe was more of a man than a boy, more sophisticated than clumsy. There was a spark there that suggested Joe is more of everything else than she had thought.

But what, exactly?

She likes to think that it means Joe likes her, that their friendship is moving along the way she wants. Of course, it might have been a fluke. Joe might have been staring off into space as he is apt to do when she is around him.

Yet there is no denying that it didn’t only make him look grown-up, it made him more. . more. . attractive?

Sadly, the answer is yes. Joe is attractive, and she had never noticed it before. She doesn’t want to think about it now, either, because she finds it confusing.

She spends the day at work fixing a section of faulty air-conditioning. It’s a job that has taken the last few weeks of her time. It breaks down every year or two, and the government isn’t prepared to budget more money for police, let alone make their surroundings slightly more comfortable. So she does what she can-stopgap measures that will keep it working until the day those measures fall short.

Yet her mind keeps returning to Joe. She’s sure he doesn’t know that he’s not the only cleaner employed here. After six o’clock every night, well after Joe has gone home, a team of cleaners come through and do their thing. They vacuum, wipe, dust, sanitize the bathrooms, refill the paper towel dispensers, clean and put away the dishes in the coffee rooms, replace dirty towels with clean ones, and empty the trash cans. Some of these things Joe will do once a week, or once every few weeks, but he doesn’t know other people are taking care of them every single day. Joe is here during the day to keep things tidy and, she suspects, to keep people happy. Special people like Joe can struggle to find work, and in a world where they must contribute, where they must fend for themselves, sometimes the government must step in and create positions for them. She knows nobody has told Joe he’s not alone in his profession here because it might shatter the image he has of his importance. Sweet, sweet Joe.

She doesn’t see Joe when she leaves work. Only a few people finish at four thirty, and because of her father’s illness, she’s one of them. She heads down Cashel Mall, a shopping street that runs through the center of town that’s a few blocks from the Christchurch Cathedral, the city’s most iconic church that’s made of stone and was built well over a hundred years ago. She tried once to go inside and sit in the silence, only there wasn’t any-too many tourists for that. She doesn’t make it as far as the church today, instead she pauses outside shop windows and occasionally goes inside, searching, hunting, trying to find a gift for her dad that he will appreciate. She needs a card too. Something funny. Something that for the briefest of moments will take his mind off his failing body and her late brother. Just what do you buy for the parent who’s losing everything?

The answer is a DVD player. With the salesman’s advice, she finds the simplest-to-use player in her price range, and she chooses four classic westerns she’s confident her father will love. All have Clint Eastwood in them. Could there be anything better?

She carries her purchases back to her car, pausing only to give Henry another small bag of sandwiches. She wonders if a guy like Henry ever tries to save for anything. How hard it must be to have goals in life when you have nothing. It’s not like the poor guy can buy a suit and go to a job interview. It’s not like he can show up to one dressed the way he is. She thinks she ought to try and help him out there.

“Jesus loves you,” he reminds her, opening the bag. “Remember that, Sally, and everything will be okay.”

By the time she reaches her car, she feels like crying. Not even thinking about Joe’s smile can cheer her back up.