at a rapid pace.
“Great. You start on the first of June and it will run ’til the end of August. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, sir, it does…um…may I ask you a question, please?”
“Of course.”
Kacey, a huge smile on her face, paced back and forth in her bedroom too excited to sit back down. “You offering this position to me…do you mind me asking how this happened?”
“Margie’s one of our best reporters and she’s gone through four research assistants in three months. I asked her what kind of person she was looking for and she said a person like you.”
“A person like me?”
“Actually she said you, by name, Kacey Mercer in Wilkes-Barrough, Pennsylvania.”
“Wilkes-Barre, sir.” Kacey made sure to pronounce the city’s name slowly and clearly.
Kravitz laughed at her meticulousness. “Yes, Wilkes-Barre,” he repeated with the exact same enunciation that Kacey had used. “So we’ll see you on the first?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be there.”
Kacey hung up the phone and let out a joyful shriek. She sat down on her bed, picked the phone back up and began to dial. Her first call was not to her parents or her sometimes on-again off-again boyfriend, Keith Springs. It was to Callie Wheeler, the best friend she had since before they both could talk.
“Cal, you will not believe what just happened to me, you won’t believe it.”
“Hey Kace…”
Kacey laid on her back and slid the phone under her ear. “I got a call from this guy, right, and he says he is so and so from the Washington Post…”
“What?”
“Listen, listen. He says do you know Margie? You remember Margie, right, Cal? Remember her?”
“The lady reporter from the paper back home?”
“Yeah, her. Anyway, he says do you know Margie, right?” Kacey could no longer contain her enthusiasm and would have been talking too quickly for anyone else besides Callie, who had learned to decipher Kaceyspeak long ago. “So he says, she wants you to work for her this summer as an intern, I say who does, he says Margie, I say why me, he says Margie wants you and he says something like she wanted Kacey Mercer from Wilkes Barrough or something like that, you know how people do.”
Callie laughed, “I know.”
“How cool is this, Cal? Can you believe it?”
“So wait, did you take the job?”
“Are you serious?”
“You took it?”
“Of course, I took it, who wouldn’t take it?”
Callie paused for a moment and did the math. “Did you say the Washington Post?”
“Yeah girl! The Washington Post. Amazing, huh?”
“Oh my god, you’ll be living here? With me?”
“Well in the same city—”
Callie interrupted her. “No, you’ll be living with me. My apartment. I’m already set up and everything.”
“Well I don’t know about where I’m gonna…”
Callie interrupted her again. “You think I’m gonna let you live somewhere else?”
“I just thought, ya’ know, you’re probably busy with law school and all...”
A third time. “Shut up. You are living here wi…” Callie stopped mid-sentence and suddenly broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Kacey asked as she listened to Callie laugh. She pulled the phone away from her ear, looked at it, then brought it back to her mouth to talk again. “What’s so funny, Callie?”
“I was just thinking…did you tell Pop yet…ya’ know that you’ll be working at the Washington Post?”
The line went silent as Kacey began to appreciate the reality of her situation. She sat up straight and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. In a soft, barely audible, voice, Kacey whispered into the phone. “No, I haven’t told him yet.”
Callie dropped the phone overwhelmed by laughter. She bent over, picked it up and slowly tried to regain her composure. Having missed Kacey’s original response she asked the question again,“Did you tell him yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“This is too much, Kace.” Kacey could hear her take a few deep breathes between her chuckles. “When do you have to be here?”
“June first.”
“Great, you can stay in the second bedroom, which at the moment is filled with a bunch of boxes and stuff…I can’t wait.”
“You sure it’s okay?”
“Stop…and no you won’t pay me.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Forget it and no, we’re not gonna talk about it later. It’s settled. You’re moving in with me and that’s final,” Callie said with a wide grin on her face. “I have to run to class, but there’s a part of me that wants to stay on the line just to listen when you tell your dad…he’s gonna go crazy.”
“I can hear Pop already,” Kacey said. “Screamin’ at the top of his lungs…that communist piece of shit paper…they can’t be trusted those Marxists bastards over there…”
Callie chimed in with her own imitation of Kacey’s dad. “Those friggin leftists…they should burn that…”
Kacey joined her and said it with Callie at the same time “…that shit hole to the ground.” The two woman laughed at the irony of Kacey getting a great opportunity at a paper she had never been allowed to read at home.
“Gotta’ go, good luck with Pop. It’s gonna be hilarious.”
“A regular riot. Love you, Cal-pie.”
“Love you too, Mer-maid. Call me later?”
“Yup”
That internship turned into full-time employment at the Post after she graduated from Wilkes University Magna cum laude and was assigned to the city section in July of 2005. Margie Viviano continued to work at the paper, but Kacey’s two favorite people at the Post were the paper’s editor, Bob Kravitz, who loved Kacey’s work ethic and persistence, and Walter Bloom, a thirty year veteran of the paper, who liked to remind Kacey that he was at his desk working on the Israeli withdrawal from the Sinai Peninsula, the day she was born in April of 1982. It had been almost six months to the day that Bob
