Squiggle

by Chandler Ardnas

I arrived early and sat low in my chair as people filed into their assigned half-walled dungeons. When Kev arrived, I hurried over and handed him the squiggle pen. “Julius said to give this to you.” I said with as much venom as I could.

  “Julius Carmichael?” he asked as his eyes lit up.

  “Is that the guy who sits next to me?” I asked innocently.

  “Yes,” he said in a reverent whisper.

  “Yeah, him, he gave it to me Friday and asked me to give it to you, but I forgot, sorry.”

  I walked away and heard Kevin squee like a fan girl. It was mean, I know, but he dumped me via his butler so let Julius worry about being on display every time he uses a urinal. I got right to work and tried to remain too busy to know if the object of my loathing arrived or not.

  Mr. Stovall walked to our aisle and said loudly, “You’re late, Julius.”

  I looked over in surprise to see him standing in his cubicle all unapologetic and desirable looking. “Sorry,” he muttered falsely, and glanced at me.

  “Better hope I’m not late,” I said to torment him, “Sorry won’t fix it.” He smirked at me and I shrugged, “Just saying.” I knew it wasn’t right to threaten a man with the possibility of pregnancy, but he DUMPED me.

  He had just settled into his day when his work phone rang. He answered just like he always did, but his tone suddenly changed. He was saying, yes sir, and, no sir, like he was talking to a cop or a school principal…. Oh NO. Why did Facebook let parents join? It was a safe place for college students to fight it out, drink it out, and screw it out, but now it was a national tattle tale service. I wondered if I could tell my dad the photos were doctored. I wasn’t listening to Julius anymore and jumped when my own phone rang. I looked at it in fear and glanced over to see Julius busy at his computer.

  I picked up the line. “Hello.”

  “Erica?” A familiar voice asked.

  “Hi, daddy,” I said, trying to sound like a virgin, or at least like it had been more than seventy-two hours since a man rocked my world… twice.

  Apparently, I was acting cheap, like I was raised in a brothel, as if I had no self-respect, and I needed to consider what my future husband would think. I realized at that moment I couldn’t use the squiggle pen excuse at the judgment bar in heaven. I would work that out later and concentrated on the father screaming at me this very moment. I did the only thing I knew to do, I began to cry. It was foolproof when I was little, and my father tried to discipline me for inconsequential things… like, feeding our dog my mom’s lipstick.

  I moved completely under the desk and sat against the metal cubicle, so I could cry into the phone. I promised I would never act cheap again and I would represent Cartwright as my home and not a brothel. I would develop self-respect and hope my future husband would forgive me. My admission of guilt made my father begin apologizing profusely, I was his princess after all, and since I owned up to my Jen-like behavior he was sorry for hurting my feelings.

  When he finally hung up, I remained under the desk and cried into my knees. I wasn’t crying so much about the tongue lashing I just received, but more about the tongue wrestling I would no longer receive from across the way. My parents were upset over something that wasn’t even an issue anymore, but I so wanted it to still be an issue.

  A pair of brown slacks appeared in my line of vision, so I wiped my eyes as the knees bent and someone looked at me. I tried to smile but seeing a sympathetic expression on Julius Carmichael’s face sent me right back into tears. He held out his hand and I took it willingly, allowing him to pull me from under the desk and into Mr. Stovall’s office. I buried my face in his chest as I sobbed loudly.

  “I’m so sorry,” he offered. “I never meant for you to get hurt in this mess.”

  “Ithotwehadsuminspeshal,” I blubbered into his dress shirt. He pushed me back to hear me better, but I produced louder sobs, so he tightened his hold again. “Why did you have Mr. Belvidere break up with me?” I whined.

  “Who?” he asked, not up on 80’s sitcoms.

  “The man who answered your cell phone and then told me to stop calling.” I could feel the anger building inside of me again as I spoke. Who writes such romantic words on someone’s arm and then just expects them to move on without an explanation?

  Julius was silent for a moment and then spoke through his own evident anger. “Jen and her father came over. I took her into the other room to talk and he must have answered my phone.”

  “Mr. Staple?” I gasped, “Mr. Blubber butt, dumb as crap, Staple?” I didn’t even attempt to keep my disgust hidden.

  “I know him as George,” Julius said with a grin.

  Well, this changed things; it was a horse of a different color, a conundrum wrapped in a riddle. I was not sitting still for this, and I was not standing for it either. Mr. Staple didn’t intimidate me. He raised a vapid, immoral, boyfriend-stealing whore. He relinquished any right to look down on me for being a squiggle.

  We stood there quietly swaying back and forth as Julius did his best to soothe my pain and my anger. Tender kisses came from his lips to the top of my head and I wanted to stay like this all day. Of course, Mr. Stovall wouldn’t allow happiness on his watch even if it was for his roommate, so he stuck his head in and said, “Julius, your father is looking for you.”

  I could feel my guy’s entire body tense and when I looked up at him his jaw was tightly clenched. Obviously, there was more going on here than meets the eye. He was dealing with some father-son drama that had nothing to do with dragging a married man home with me. He took a deep breath and used his thumbs to wipe my tears but made sure to stay clear of my runny nose. “Better?” he asked.

  I nodded and added a pitiful smile. It’s amazing what a good cry at the beginning of a work day can do for you. I headed back to my square as he headed to his daddy’s office. As soon as I sat down, Kevin rushed into my cube. I loved Kevin, but sometimes I wished he was just a picture in a frame I had gotten off the web.

  “You’ve been crying,” he announced, as if I had no idea. “Why were you crying and why did Julius take you into Mr. Stovall’s office?”

  “I got in a fight with my father,” I said honestly. “It was just… stupid.”

  All the sudden a loud alarm went off causing many of the girls to scream… and Kevin. We clung to each other trying to decide if we needed to stop, drop, and roll. Mr. Stovall appeared and announced in a rare enthusiastic voice that we just met our goal. The entire room erupted into applause as I looked around in a stupor. What goal? I never heard anything about a goal.

  Right on cue, he asked for volunteers for the party planning committee. I quickly sat and tucked my hands underneath my bottom to keep them from accidently rising. We were adults and fully capable of partying without a committee. Sara raised both hands and jumped up and down, as did Kevin.

  I pushed him from my cube and took a moment to glance at my daily horoscope. Authority figures will attempt to stop your progress. I assumed it meant Travis Stovall and his party plans, until an hour later when he stood at the head of my cube and said, “Tobi, William Carmichael would like to see you in his office.”

  Every orifice on my body immediately clamped tightly shut.

  Chapter 3

  I admit until a few days ago I had no idea who William Carmichael was, but now he was summoning me to his office and I was not ready for this type of confrontation. I wasn’t even sure if I was still seeing Julius. He apologized, but he didn’t give me any indication of a verbal commitment. I did have a picture of his declaration on my arm, but could that be considered a binding agreement? I surely hoped so.

  I looked down at my clothes and tried to determine what they would say to the company owner. I decided I needed an expert’s interpretation, so I headed to Kevin’s square. He was engaged in the first committee meeting, but my need was bigger. I pulled him from his cube down to mine and stood back and asked, “What does my outfit say?”

  He looked me up and down and moved his ha
nd to his chin, not a good sign. Then, he walked around me slowly as he hummed. If he wasn’t gay I would kick him in the testicles for making me feel like a slab of meat. But, I knew it was how his kind analyzed, so I waited patiently.

  “I read secure, a bit of the finger, but mostly what you see is what you get,” he said with a smile.

  “Get? No. Nobody gets anything,” I said in a panic.

  He grabbed the band of my pants and pulled them up to rest higher on my waist. Next, he tucked in my blouse and pulled the cardigan together and buttoned a few buttons. He then pulled my hair into a messy bun and secured it with a rubber band from my desk. “Now you say, I work my butt off, but nobody ever gets my butt because I have library books to return.”

  “You’re amazing,” I said, and we both turned to see Julius coming down the walkway.

  Kevin giggled and stuck out his chest, which really ticked me off because that was the move I was going to use. I was trapped with the librarian look and no way to work it, so I pulled rank and took hold of Julius’ arm and left Kevin alone to drool.

  Elevators terrified me, not because they were tiny squares, but I couldn’t quite figure out how they worked. I made it a rule never to climb into something that confused me, so I headed for the stairs, but Julius pulled me to the elevator.

  “No, I can’t,” I said, but he smiled and pulled me inside yet another Carmichael Corporation square.

  His lips connected to mine and I forgot all about trying to figure out how it was possible for it to move and stop where we needed. Instead, I had random thoughts about what socks he wore, or if he used a pacifier as a baby. I really hoped he had one of those jumper things that attached to a doorframe, so he could bounce up and down as an infant. I had no idea why it seemed so important, but my heart would ache if he didn’t have one.

  When it magically stopped, Julius took my hand and led me to a large conference room. A huge table ran the length of the space, but my eyes were drawn to a large glass wall that arched out over the city. It looked as if the building was exhaling and my hand moved to my heart. Every building should be allowed to breathe, and I bet great ideas came from this conference room.

  “Dad, this is Tobi Wilson,” Julius said. I turned my attention to the three men sitting at the big table. A man who looked like Julius, with the same olive tinted skin and grey eyes peered back at me and then looked at a folder.

  “Are you Erica Wilson?” he asked in confusion.

  Oh yeah, maybe I should have told Julius about my real name. I was a bit reluctant to look at him since he didn’t even know the name of the woman destined to have his children. Instead, I looked back at the wall for inspiration and breathed deeply. His dad forgot about my identification and asked us both to sit.

  I assumed we were here to discuss baby names, or wedding details, but daddy big bucks looked right at me and said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay away from Julius for a while.”

  Yeah right, it was never going to happen. We would ride up and down in the elevator all day if we had to sneak around. I smiled widely as I nodded in agreement. It wasn’t really a lie, it was just a woman doing what she had to do for the man she loved, or at least for the man she could possibly love.

  An older man next to Mr. Carmichael tried to explain. He said, “Jennifer is suing Julius for adultery and wants part of the company.”

  I laughed really hard, but nobody joined me. Come on, it was funny. Jennifer suing anyone for adultery as her ‘open for business’ sign was out was downright hysterical. These suits needed to lighten up because Jennifer ‘skank’ Staple was easy to deal with… because she was easy. I could have this worked out in just a couple of weeks.

  The third man cleared his throat and said, “There are matters beyond company business Julius needs to be concerned with, so your cooperation would be appreciated.”

  What in the heck did that mean? Maybe he had written on someone else’s arm too and his lawyers had to fight it out in court to see who had claim on him. I looked over to see Julius looking down at his lap, probably trying to find where his manhood had run away and hidden. I decided I didn’t like this conference room and I bet only stupid ideas came from here.

  I waited for Julius to look at me and then asked, “You don’t want to see me anymore?”

  He turned to face me and held both of my hands as he spoke emphatically. “I don’t care about any of this, but the company pays the salaries and dividends to a lot of people. We’ll work it out, okay? Do you understand what I’m saying?” He acted like he was talking to Amos, speaking slowly and looking me in the eye as if he meant something else. I wasn’t stupid, but yeah, I didn’t understand.

  I nodded as if it all made perfect sense and looked back at the three stooges. “I’ll take care of this,” I told them, purposefully sounding like I was on board with their plan but making my own arrangements in my head. I knew the one thing a whore wanted more than money, and I had access to the bait.

  With everything handled in my mind I now had another agenda, I wanted to find out what stupid goal we reached. I looked at Mr. Carmichael and said, “Are you excited about reaching the goal?”

  He smiled, looking even more like Julius and said, “It is a great feat to beat Microsoft in orders this quarter.”

  “Wow,” I gasped. “We beat Microsoft? This is like when Pixar beat Disney, but you must admit Disney was getting a little stale. They got so much better after Pixar kicked their butt; I bet Microsoft really steps….” I bit my lip to force myself to stop talking. I was totally disrespecting the grandfather of my future children, even if he thought I was going to stay away from his hot son.

  I stood and told them I needed to get back to work so I could get far from their gaping stares. I walked over to run my fingers along the breathing wall and then rushed down the stairs to the floor where I belonged.

  For the rest of the week Julius and I had a platonic relationship. We flirted and made goo-goo eyes at each other until he was called to his father’s office, usually right before lunch, then we would talk all night on the phone. I was learning critical facts about him, like how much he missed my body, how much he wanted my body, and how willing he was to share his own body. I liked that he was a sharer... I just wished he was more selective with who he shares.

  During the week, I also managed to acquire a large collection of extra thick rubber bands. I got to use one on Thursday when Julius was called upstairs. He leaned over to pretend to tie his shoe and blew me a kiss. I licked my hand and blew it back.

  “Where are you from?” he asked with a chuckle.

  I wasn’t offended that he thought I was perhaps a foreigner, squiggles get that question a lot. I smiled and replied, “From my father’s sperm and my mother’s egg.”

  “Big drug users, were they?” he teased.

  He was so funny, and sexy, and desirable, and when he walked from his cube I grabbed a rubber band and leaned out my doorway. As soon as Susan’s head peeked out, I pulled it back and took aim. I had noticed over the years that people with bulbous waists are usually slower to react, so when I hit her square in the head she spun around to find nothing behind her. It was mean, but I was only protecting my turf, well, technically still Jennifer’s turf, but I had hope that he would soon be mine.

  I was growing tired of our nonphysical love affair and at lunch on Friday I sat down angrily next to Claire and Beavis’ friend. I noticed right away there was something going on between them. Claire wasn’t speaking, and Amos was rubbing her back as he kept whispering in her ear. I wondered if they were fighting, and I didn’t want to do anything to interrupt a possible breakup. I looked around the room and saw Sara sitting alone in a corner, so I picked up my tray and rushed over to sit with her.

  “What’s up, Thumbelina?” I asked, as I took a big bite of spaghetti, soul food for a squiggle.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she said with a weak voice, “He hasn’t called, why do you think he hasn’t called?”
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br />   “Who?” I asked out the side of my full mouth.

  “Travis. I shouldn’t have gone home with him. He doesn’t respect me now,” she said as the tears spilled over her lids.

  “What century are you living in?” I asked with a chuckle. “Julius said Travis is very proper, maybe he wants to wait a certain number of days or something.” She looked at me with a hopeful expression, so I reluctantly set my fork down and asked, “Has he talked to you at work?”

  She nodded and said, “But only about work-related matters, nothing personal.”

  “Okay, he most likely wants to keep it professional,” I mused, although he constantly stared at her as if he wanted to attack her in the stairwell, but maybe freaky stares were just his thing, like sexy grins were Julius’s. “What did he say when you left his bed?”

  Sara had always reminded me of a porcelain doll. Her black hair was curly and shiny, and her lips were full and naturally red. When she pouted it was actually quite adorable the way her large eyes widened, and her mouth puckered. I wasn’t prepared for her answer and almost choked on my soul food when she giggled and said, “We didn’t actually make it to the bed.”

  “Where did you actually make it to?” I asked hesitantly.

  She glanced around the room before answering, causing my curiosity to go through the roof. It had been a full week since I had been with Julius, so listening to her story was going to make me miss him even more, but I would sacrifice for Sara. “Don’t tell Julius,” she said as she leaned forward, “But we did it on the kitchen table.”

  Gross! No cool! No wait, gross, definitely gross. They fornicated in front of the dishes and then expected people to eat there, like bodily fluids and pubic hairs belonged in the kitchen. “No wonder he hasn’t called,” I mumbled, and her eyes filled with more tears. “I didn’t mean it; I was just grossed out by the sperm all over the salt and pepper shakers.”

  “I wouldn’t care if he didn’t want to see me again; I just want him to tell me. Why won’t men ever tell us what they are thinking?”