“My dad is sick and my mother cannot take care of him. Being the only lady among my siblings, the responsibility has fallen on me to take care of him.”
“That’s so kind of you. How old is your dad, if I’m allowed to ask?”
“Oh, you may ask. My dad’s 71. 1951. I have no problem sharing his age with you at all. I feel so proud of him.”
Dorothy pushed her handkerchief clumsily into her pink purse while retaining the smile on her face. Scanning her through the side of his eyes, Nathan responded warmly: “Oh, that’s nice. He has lived to a ripe age.”
Dorothy expanded her smile further.
“Wow! This is a miracle. I began searching for this assurance two years ago. Each time I came, I was told there was no vacancy. I tried meeting with the Director but I never had the chance.”
“That was in the past. Now that you have the opportunity, you only need to be grateful.”
“Indeed, I am. Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done.” Dorothy brushed a strand of hair from across her face while tossing her small black purse between her two hands.
“You were not the one here the last time I came…”
“Yes. That’s true. He’s been transferred. I’m here now.”
“I see! What a miracle? I began looking for an opportunity to teach in this district for about four years now. Each time I came, I was told there was no vacancy. Miracles happen,” she said, already by the door.
“Please wait. You haven’t paid yet. You’ll give us five hundred cedis…”
Outside, the afternoon sun had softened. Clouds hovered like they were undecided, unsure whether to bless the land with rain or hold back a little longer. Dorothy squinted slightly, adjusting her steps to avoid the puddle near the gate. Her shoes—modest but freshly polished—kissed the gravel with quiet dignity.
She didn’t walk fast. She didn’t walk slow either. She just moved, each step like a question half-answered.
At the corner near the trotro station, she paused to fish out her phone. The screen was cracked near the bottom, but it came to life. A message from her brother blinked. How did it go?
She typed: It’s done. I start soon.
He replied almost immediately: Well done.
Dorothy smiled faintly. Not at the message. Not at the phone. Just… at herself. The way one smiles when there’s no one else to help carry the moment.
Back in the office, Nathan leaned back in his chair. He stared at the drawer a little longer than necessary. Five hundred cedis. Folded twice. Fitted neatly beside others. He didn’t count them again. He didn’t need to.
The silence in the room sat heavily. It was the kind that made you hear the hum of the ceiling fan and wonder when it last got cleaned. Nathan reached for the bottle of water beside him and took a sip.
The door creaked open without a knock.
“You’ve taken care of the lady?” a voice asked.
Nathan didn’t look surprised. “Yes. She’ll be back for her letter.”
The man stepped in fully now. Slightly shorter, built like a retired athlete, with a shirt too crisp for the heat.
“Good. That’s one more slot down. How many left?”
“Three.”
The man grinned. “Let’s see how many more miracles happen before Friday.”
Nathan didn’t smile. He just closed the drawer again.