Robbie folded her coat over her arm, fluffed her scarf, and smoothed her pleated slacks. She hoped that not wearing a skirt and heels in the twenty-first century wouldn’t be the deciding factor between a job and no job offer.
“Miss Smyth.”
Robbie jumped in her chair. The thick carpet must have muffled any sound of approaching footsteps.
“Miss Smyth, would you follow me please?” Ms. Receptionist held open another door down the hall.
Robbie stood and resisted the urge to tug at her jacket. She was led into a room with a computer monitor and keyboard on a desk.
“I’m logging into preliminary keyboard timed tests.”
When the receptionist bent to retrieve some paper for the printer, a ripple of envy crept through Robbie at the way the material in the skirt altered and the skirt clung to accentuate her assets in a subtle shift. If she were without the fat suit, she’d look like that. Robbie gave herself a mental kick in the backside. Wait a minute. I’m doing exactly what Mavis, Sharon, and Margaret talked about and I complain about. I’m objectifying this woman because of the way her body looks.
Robbie sat up straight and waited for instructions.
The woman spoke. “Please call me when you’ve completed the prompts that the computer gives to you.”
“Excuse me. If I’m to call you, may I have your name, please?”
The woman extended a hand with a diamond glittering on her finger and French-manicured nails. “Eve Winston.”
Robbie extended her hand with her flashy costume-jeweled finger and clear, polished nails. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Winston. How long does this usually take?”
“There isn’t a set time. Just complete it at your own speed. It’s all powered up and ready to go.”
Eve walked out of the room and closed the door before Robbie turned the chair and adjusted it for her height and breadth toward the computer. She seemed to be all thumbs and her speed was slow. The computer gave her three attempts to improve. The next prompt led her to a multiple-choice personality test. The questions seemed to change before she had time to contemplate her answers. An hour later, the computer thanked her and told her that the interview was over. Her previously pressed slacks were creased across her thighs and her blouse bunched at her waist. Her scarf, a gray and red puddle on the floor. She was hot and thirsty.
When she stood, she noticed the accordion creases in her jacket where she’d sat on it. She tugged at the cloth and wished she’d had the foresight to hang it up instead of peeling it off and letting it slip behind her. Someone knocked on the door.
“Have you completed the little quizzes yet?”
“Just finished.” There must be a signal somewhere when the program shuts down or someone had telepathy. Yet. What did Ms. Winston mean by ‘yet?’ Was I that slow?
“Great. Mrs. Jones will see you now.” Ms. Winston held the door wide for her to go through.
As she walked into the plush office Robbie reviewed the ways to create a positive impression. She had her answers ready if she was asked where she’d see herself in five years: management. What were her greatest strengths and weaknesses? Creative determination and purposeful inventiveness were both strengths and weaknesses depending on the situations.
Mrs. Jones stood and extended her hand over the desk. Robbie was forced to lean and her thighs bumped the edge and caused a framed photograph to clatter onto the desktop. “I’m sorry.”
“Ms. Smyth, please take a seat.”
Robbie stepped away and sat in a chair and when she looked at her lap, her thighs seemed to ooze out from under the armrests. She did her best to smile and respond the questions with thoughtful answers, but she felt like a hamster on a wheel. Mrs. Jones asked her if she considered herself successful.
“Yes. I set goals and have met some and I am on track to achieve others.” She watched Mrs. Jones mark a sheet. Again Robbie wished she could read upside down.
“What motivates you to do your best job?”
“I enjoy challenges and achieving goals. I appreciate recognition for a job done well, too,” Robbie replied.
“Have you tasted our double chocolate marble brownie with walnuts?”
Mrs. Jones produced a thin white china plate with two brownie bits. She tilted her head to the side and a smile played at the corner of her lips when she walked around her desk and extended the plate.
“No. I’ve sampled many of your products. The Strawberry Tulips, Pecan Mousse, and of course the Cherry Cheesecake are to die for.” Robbie licked her lips in anticipation. “These look decadent.” She took a tiny bite and allowed the flavors to settle around her taste buds. “Wow, they really pop.”
“It’s a new product line. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Take the second piece, please.”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? The sample pieces are so small.” Mrs. Jones offered again.
Robbie shook her head. “When will these be available to the general public?”
“Our media campaign begins next week. Last chance, are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Thank you, but no.”
Mrs. Jones returned to her desk. She tapped her pencil against the desk and looked up at Robbie. “How would you know if you were successful in this job?”
“I would set high standards for myself and when I meet them, I could consider that a success. Also, when my outcomes to different projects are successful and when my supervisors and team members tell me.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Jones wrote a note. “Do you have any final questions?”
“How soon would I be able to be productive at Heavenly Treats?”
“We like to make everyone feel welcome. The new employee shadows the present human resource assistant for two weeks and then gradually assumes the duties and by the end of the third month we would evaluate your progress.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jones. The timeframe sounds generous.” Robbie maneuvered herself out of the chair. She glanced over her shoulder making certain there wasn’t some mystery Velcro that had held her in place. She grasped Mrs. Jones extended hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you for your time. Your web page didn’t suggest that the skills and personality test would be part of the interview. Did I miss the detail?”
“We try to surprise our candidates. It allows us to observe how they react when something new is given to them. We know that our successful candidates will have researched our company and tried our products. We would appreciate if you’d keep this to yourself if you know other candidates. It’ll make the screening process fair.” Mrs. Jones looked over Robbie’s head as she said these last statements.
Robbie nodded. “Could you tell me the next step in the employee search and who I should contact?”
“Ms. Winston will provide you with that information. We’re all part of a team at Heavenly Treats.” Mrs. Jones smiled and walked behind her desk. Ms. Winston opened the office door.
Robbie wondered if there was a button that Mrs. Jones pressed or if Ms. Winston was indeed intuitive.
Ms. Winston gave Robbie a business card and assured her that she would hear by the end of the week if she were to be included in the second round of interviews.
Robbie stopped with her hand on the door. “May I ask where you purchased your suit? You look as fresh as you did when I arrived.”
Ms. Winston raised one eyebrow. “It’s a little boutique on Hamilton Street that caters to professional women.”
“Thank you. I’ll stop by one day,” Robbie said.
“I wouldn’t bother.” Ms. Winston’s nose wrinkled.
“I wouldn’t copy you. The boutiques where I’ve shopped keep records of purchases made by women in the same offices.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry on that account. They don’t carry plus sizes.”
>
“Oh. I see.” Robbie bit her cheek and took a deep breath. Why did she seem to run into nastier women than men around the issue of body fat? Perhaps she was more sensitive when she was with women. She’d have to note this in her field journal. It wasn’t Ms. Winston’s fault that the store didn’t carry women’s sizes. The store could just be another example of preferential marketing in the women’s clothing industry. But Ms. Winston did have control over her offensive tone. Robbie remained calm. This was a possible employment opportunity.
“Thank you for telling me. I will visit the shop when I’m downtown and then I’ll know what to look for in my size.” Robbie slipped into her coat. “I’ll look forward to your call on Friday. I have voice mail if I happen to be out and I will return your call as soon as possible.”
Ms. Winston raised her head to a neutral position just before turning back to her computer monitor. That wasn’t encouraging. Hold on, perhaps it is company policy that staff do not confirm expectations and Mrs. Jones makes all of the decisions.
The wind gusted and tugged at her coat and threatened to freeze her ears. She had to find a hat that she could wear or ear warmers at least. She tucked her head into her collar. She’d reached the hood of her car when the parking commissionaire approached. Whew. She’d been spared a parking ticket. Pedestrians hurried across the streets, while people huddled into bus shelters. Winter was definitely on the way.
After Robbie drove into the garage at home, she released the seat belt and lifted one leg over the car frame and then the other. The armrest on the door was her lever to exit the small interior space. Robbie didn’t feel professional next to the crisp Ms. Winston and Mrs. Jones. She didn’t have the skills to act as a dignified woman of substance. A picture of the proficient Nadine in Jean Clifton’s office flashed in her mind. Nadine knew where to shop and how to dress because she was at home in her body.
Who was she fooling? She could never truly experience circumstances the same as women who have always been larger just by wearing a fake body. She slapped the foam and watched it vibrate.
Stop right now. This is research. I need to stay focused. Inside, she hung her coat, kicked off her shoes, and focused on each stair. Her job now was to get undressed and clean up and record her data. She removed the melted gel packs and placed moisture-soaking packages into the legs and arms and torso of the suit, so the suit would be dry and fresh when she went out in it again.
Robbie sank into the tub. Why was she suddenly feeling as if she should just accept Clifton’s assessment and get the thesis over and done with and move on? Her parents would welcome her into their business. Her father was a general practitioner doctor in the town of Lumsden and her mother was the counselor. She wouldn’t have to put up with the ‘one word to describe yourself’ questions. Her parents were very familiar with her creative determination on good days and stubbornness on others.
With her back against the hard surface, the bubbles dissipated across the swell of her breasts, which were tiny in comparison to those of her interview persona. Her tension eased. She was prepared for the sessions today and she would be prepared tomorrow, too. She had inside information about the proficiency and psychological tests. The position at Heavenly Treats would be great for the successful candidate. The web site showed opportunities for movement in the company, as well as a great medical plan. She would probably have to turn down the position if it was offered to her as either Robin or Robbie because of her research, unless Mrs. Jones accepted Robbie’s explanations and would see her creativity as an asset to the company.
Her treadmill stood idle in the corner. Even though it was only six in the evening, it was dark and she craved the crisp air on her face. The calendar showed a three-quarter moon. She would run in the familiar safety of the park where she could avoid cars and curbs. She dressed in her reflective vest and tugged on her knit hat fitted with a head light. A quick call to her parents fulfilled a promise. They only needed a voice mail or text message before she began and when she returned if she ran alone after dark.
She set an easy pace and followed the yellow line down the middle of the path, past leafless deciduous branches and outstretched evergreen limbs. Running in the dark required a trust in her own abilities that she wouldn’t stumble where the path wasn’t even. The only sounds were her steady breathing, her feet striking the pavement, and the wind. She saw a shape on Frank’s bench. It was too late and too cold for the person to be Frank. Her eyes strained at the faceless shape hunched on the bench. Her light beam outlined the edge of the opposite side of the path. She gripped her pepper spray, another promise to her parents, but her feet slowed their pace on their own volition. When she glanced over, she recognized Jake’s leather jacket. Her headlamp outlined his profile. She stopped. “Professor Proctor?”
The figure looked up.
She sat down beside him. He wouldn’t see the similarities between her and Robin tonight, not with her hat pulled down over her ears covering her hair and dressed in her running gear. She turned off her light when he held up his hand to block out the glare. “Robbie Smith,” she said. “We met at the university and at the fundraising dinner last week. Are you okay?”
He lowered his hand from his eyes and he straightened. “Hello.”
She dropped her spray back to the bottom of her pocket, then hunkered down in front of him. “Have you been here long?”
“I was thinking of leaving.” His voice was husky and lacked conviction.
Maybe something had happened to Frank but she couldn’t ask. As Robbie she wasn’t supposed to know that Jake had an ill grandfather. Her body was cooling down and she shivered, but Jake looked chilled to the bone. “Listen, I live through those gates. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll make some coffee. I have a fireplace.”
“No, thank you. I can’t. I appreciate that you mean well but . . . I’m faculty at your university and you’re a grad student.”
“Come on, it’s freezing out here.” She clutched his gloved hand, and she stood. When she turned, he followed. She hurried along the path and he trailed in a daze just behind, their clouds of exhaled breath mingling and blowing away. She unlocked the door and guided him into the vestibule. He stepped out of his loafers and was drawn toward the fire, while she unlaced her runners and tossed her coat and hat into the closet. She needed the warmth of the fire, too.
He stared into the embers. She bent and placed logs on the grate and closed the protective screen, then tipped the photographs that lined the mantle facedown.
The phone rang and she picked it up on the second ring. “Yes, home safe and sound. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you. Goodnight.”
The conversation didn’t break his concentration on the flames licking the logs. While coffee brewed, she looked around for visible reminders of her project. The coat was in the front closet and the rest of the disguise in the bedroom. If she kept the closet doors closed, her alter ego would be safe. She made his coffee sweet and black.
Jake sat on the ottoman with his shoulders rounded and his head in his hands. His jacket lay on the floor. At least he’s warm. “Professor Proctor.” He looked up. She put the mug of coffee into his palm and he circled it with both hands and brought the mug to his lips. She watched him swallow the steaming liquid.
“Thank you.”
“What happened?”
“The doctor told me tonight that my grandfather won’t live until Christmas.” He didn’t look at her but at the wavering flames in the grate.
She touched his arm and felt his sorrow radiating from him like heat from the fire. “I’m so sorry. Please, sit on the sofa.” He looked forlorn perched on the stool, staring into the fire.
She thought of Frank’s small body, asleep, marooned in the white landscape of his bed. Robbie hadn’t expected his death to be imminent. She wished she had the power to become Robin without leaving his side, so then sh
e could ask the questions that ran through her head. Instead, she stood until he sat. She wanted to sit next to him and draw his body close to hers, stroke his back, hold him and bring him into her warmth. Instead she sat in the chair across the room. She couldn’t have him recognize her or have him feel compromised because of her student position. “Is there anything I can do? Something to help?” Her voice sounded flat.
He set his coffee cup down. He seemed to look through her. Frank’s impending death loomed between them. Drawing a deep breath, Jake shook his head. “I feel as if you know my grandfather. Your voice sounds familiar. I’m sorry.”
“My voice changes in the cold weather.” Robbie, be careful.
He stood and gathered his jacket, took one last look at the sparks in the fireplace. “Thanks for the coffee but I’d better go. I didn’t think the reality would hit me like this.”
Robbie followed him to the front door and watched him slip into his shoes. “Can I drive you somewhere?”
With his hand on the handle, he turned. “No thanks. My car’s across the park. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She broke eye contact before she told him that she knew Frank. Now was not the time to burden him with her deception.
As soon as he was out of the door, she turned the lock and watched out the window until he disappeared into the park. She knew his car was at Care Manor. Before she washed his mug, she circled her hands around the width and held it. If only she could have offered him something more. She dropped the mug into the soapy water. What had she expected, a lingering warmth? She couldn’t indulge in this kind of fantasy. Her degree was at stake. Frank was dying and Jake was hurting.
She woke through the night to tree branches banging against her eaves and the sound of frozen pellets hitting the windowpanes. First thing in the morning, I’ll call. Before I have coffee. I need to know. I want to be who Frank needs me to be.
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