Up & Out

by Ariella Papa

  We go to Baluchi’s for some Indian food. Janice is studying me and I’m not sure why. Since I haven’t been up on things too much, I wonder what I’m going to talk about. Not having a job makes me feel like less of a functioning member of society, but it’s okay, because after Janice inquires as to how I am, she has plenty to say.

  “Jen is taking it really hard.”

  “She’s so young,” I say. It’s not unusual to get so disillusioned on your first job out of college.

  “She wore a black lace doily on her head for the whole first week you were gone.” I laugh.

  Our meals come, chicken tikka masala for her and chana saag for me.

  “She can get away with it,” I say.

  “Yeah, but it’s got to be embarrassing for Hackett. I would hate to be at that table for Thanksgiving.” She hesitates. “Do you mind talking about this?”

  “No, not at all. I guess I’m curious.”

  “No one is even looking at Delores. Apparently Cheryl from Programming went on and on about how creative you were in War Room.”

  “Really? I never thought she liked me.”

  “I don’t know if she did or if it was some kind of tactic against Delores.”

  “Jeez, the politics!”

  “Everyone misses you. We want to take you out for drinks for a proper goodbye. Are you ready to see everyone?”

  “Sure, I mean I don’t think I have anything to be ashamed of. Do I?”

  “No, you’re innocent.” She laughs. “Do you want to go out next week? I’ve been elected to organize it.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I am curious about one other thing. “How are things with you and John?”

  “Well,” she smiles. I guess she’s realized it’s finally okay to come clean with me. “Great, actually. We’re thinking of moving in together.”

  “Wow! That’s big.”

  “You lived with your boyfriend, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what did us in.” All the while we worked together, I never really talked to her about Tommy.

  “But you still live with him, don’t you?” She looks confused, and I realize how weird it must be if you don’t know the whole history.

  “Um, yeah, that is sort of a financial thing.” She rolls her eyes. I appreciate that we are close enough now to rib each other.

  “Do you still…?” she asks, leaving the end hanging.

  “No, not for a while.” It’s true! It’s been like over four months since we had sex.

  “Do you want to?”

  “God knows.” I shake my head. “Things can be so complicated. We are such good friends. There’s a lot between us, you know. Baggage.” She nods, and I realize how weird it sounds even when you do know the whole history.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You seem to know what to do.”

  “I’m glad I give that impression.”

  “You have no idea how on your side everyone is.”

  “I think I have an idea.” The check comes and Janice insists on paying.

  “It’s really not necessary.”

  “C’mon,” she says. “It’s only right. When I was unemployed, people always paid my way. Just enjoy it.”

  I let her pay.

  15

  Like a Feather

  My “Already Gone” party happens on Thursday. I know I’ve gained a lot of weight, because none of my “going out” summer clothes fit me. The black capri pants that looked so good last summer when Esme was only a bunch of interstitials and I couldn’t afford to eat so much now stretch across my stomach and give me an icky camel toe. One of the mixed blessings of unemployment is that I will no longer be able to eat so much. I guess.

  I should start working out, but gyms also cost money. Maybe I’ll get a Taebo tape. Maybe after this, I’ll never leave the house again.

  But tonight I’m headed over to a commuter-friendly bar near Grand Central Station. It was picked because about half the people working at Explore! live in Connecticut and up-state. I settle on a drawstring peasant skirt and a sexy pair of sandals. They are higher than I would usually wear, so I’m certain that I will have blisters by the end of the night, and if given enough to drink, will perhaps fall flat on my face. (I hope my former colleagues will be kind enough to pick me up.)

  I get a great turnout if I do say so myself—even some of the Programming hired guns show up. Everyone tells me how wonderful I look and I almost feel like I’ve just been cured of a terminal illness. Janice, John, and Jen smile benevolently as if they are bringing my goodness to the people. I know they have been providing little tidbits about my progress to the rest of the office.

  Everyone is drinking and dissing the company with stories of how their budgets have been slashed, mean things Delores has said, and how much working for a television station that’s owned by a bank sucks.

  Thanks to me, they are being forced to go to all these team-building human resources seminars. They start throwing out catchphrases in execuspeak. “Parking lot” seems to be a big one, as in, “We can’t talk about this right now, so let’s put this issue in the parking lot.”

  According to Sarah from Programming, talking about “the hiring and firing policies” of the company is something that keeps getting put in the parking lot. “And the thing I hate about those human resources people is the way they always say your name,” Sarah goes on. “They can’t just say, ‘good idea,’ they have to say, ‘Sarah, that’s a great and pertinent comment, Sarah.’ They use your name constantly to fool you into thinking they’re actually listening.”

  “Sarah, what an astute observation—you really got it, Sarah,” I say, getting the hang of it. She laughs. In all of the War Room meetings I went to with her, I never knew she had a sense of humor.

  “I miss having people like you around. We are just going to turn into a dry company with people like Delores running the show.”

  “Tell her what you found out,” Janice says when she comes up to us. She looks at me. “You’re going to love this.”

  “Yeah, you’re never going to believe it.” I can tell Sarah is getting drunk because she grabs on to my sleeve. “So Delores is what, thirty-four?”

  “I think so,” I say. I shrug at Janice, and she makes a face at the mention of Delores’s name.

  “Well, my stepsister is about that age and went to Harvard. Since Delores finds it necessary to bring up her alleged alma mater in her every breath—”

  “All the time,” Janice says, nodding emphatically. She is also getting drunk.

  “Alleged?” I ask.

  “Just listen,” says Janice, reveling in the knowledge I will soon get.

  “So I start asking her if she knows my sister. For once she doesn’t go off on one of her long tangents.”

  “Finally she decides to be curt,” Janice adds, growing even more excited.

  “You don’t mind talking about her, do you?” Sarah asks, suddenly self-conscious.

  “C’mon, you have to tell her the rest,” Cheryl pipes in. She looks at me. “If it’s okay?”

  “I think I can handle it,” I say.

  “Okay, so I sense she’s hiding something, so I keep asking her questions. Did she live in this dorm? What kind of media clubs was she in?”

  “Sarah’s stepsister is an EVP at Disney,” Cheryl says, clearly impressed. “You should have seen Sarah, she gave new meaning to the words War Room Attack.”

  I look at Janice, confused about whether or not they should be revealing their tactics. Janice shrugs.

  “So, I sense she’s getting freaked, you know how she gets that look when she claims she’s stressed like she’s vibrating, and I wanna know. I mean she brings this up all the time and I’m just curious.”

  “She brings it up all the time,” Cheryl agrees. “And she vibrates.”

  “So?” I ask. I am really curious where this is going.

  “Well…” Sarah looks around at Janice and Cheryl. “It turns out she just went to some kind of summer animation camp
at Harvard. Not exactly alma mater worthy.”

  “You’re kidding.” I really can’t believe it.

  “No,” Sarah says, starting to laugh hysterically.

  “Can you believe it?” Janice says.

  “You are lying,” I say. “No way.”

  “No.” I am really amazed.

  “So why does she bring it up so much? It’s like she calls attention to it,” I say.

  “Because she is full of shit,” John says, joining the conversation. “And because she’s so full of shit, you don’t have a job.”

  The group gets serious for a minute, and then I see Don come in. He smiles and makes his way over. Even in the heat, he is wearing his black leather jacket. And even though it’s dark in the bar, he is wearing sunglasses.

  “Here she is,” he says, and kisses both my cheeks. “Sorry I’m late. We had a day from hell. Let me get you a drink. Gimlet, right?”

  I nod, and he goes to the bar.

  “He is so cute,” Sarah says. I look at her and smile. I have a new respect for her after drinking with her, but I can tell she is someone who worries that she’ll still be a failure if she isn’t married by thirty.

  Don comes back and we chat for a while. By day I’m not attracted to Don at all, but after a few drinks he does seem quite smooth. I think, hey, we no longer work together, we could have a meaningless hookup, but I look over at Sarah. Maybe I should lay off.

  “We miss you,” Don says. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

  “You know, a lot of nothing.” He smiles.

  “I got to get you some names, and I’ll also tell some people about you. In the meantime, enjoy it while you got it.” He is always on. He makes being unemployed seem like another cycle of life. I appreciate feeling normal for a change.

  “I called that lawyer. He said I should take the deal. I realize how stupid I was not to negotiate something better—or something at all for Esme.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough to know that the first time around. I got totally bent over a chair on my first series. You’ll figure it out by the time you get the next one. And there will be another one.”

  “Thank you. How’s Gus?”

  “Well, not so good.” I start to worry that he is going to say something about Jordan.

  “Why?” He looks at me as if he isn’t sure he wants to continue. “Why?”

  “Your friend seems to have some emotional problems, and maybe some other problems—substance related.”

  “He’s actually an ex of a friend,” I say. “And a friend of an ex. Is he going to lose his job?”

  “Well…” Don takes a big sip of his drink. “We’ve already got a lot in the can and it would be a waste to scrap it all. I think we might have to phase him out with a little cousin or something, you know, a new actor to take over. I think we’ll be okay. I doubt the show will pick up that fast, so I don’t think anyone will get too used to him. I’m just not looking forward to casting again.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.” I wonder if I should tell Tommy or Lauryn.

  “Hey, he had us fooled, too. Don’t worry about it.” He smiles at me. “You want another drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll get this one.”

  “Don’t insult me,” he says, and rubs my cheek. “It’s your party.”

  While he’s at the bar, he looks over and smiles. It’s do-ordie time. If I have any interest in him, tonight could be the night. I look over at Sarah and am still holding back because of her remarks. I am so confused that it doesn’t seem worth it. I’m not drunk enough to hobble into his lap. I am sober enough to realize that I’m just a little lonely and feel a little bit guilty for being at all interested after Sarah kind of staked her claim.

  I call Sarah over and start asking her some lame programming questions. When Don returns with my drink I thank him and mention that Sarah is interested in moving to the East Village (she actually said downtown, but I need something to help them connect). Don lives in the East Village and Sarah asks him if he’s been to a bar she likes. Don looks at me, but keeps talking to her. I excuse myself to talk to Kim from Licensing. She relishes telling me how ridiculous Delores’s expectations are.

  “I mean, she decides to make all these changes, but then I’m like ‘If it’s not in the style guide, I don’t have a color palate.’”

  “Unbelievable,” I say. I am completely supportive.

  “And you heard about the Harvard thing?”

  “Unbelievable,” I repeat again. Kim gets a call on her cell and I look over toward Sarah and Don, trying to gauge if I should go back over. I decide to chat with Jen, who is sitting at the bar smoking a cigarette.

  “How’s it going, kiddo?” I ask as I sit on a stool. I feel like she is my little sister.

  “It’s all right.”

  “I didn’t think you smoked.”

  “Just when I drink.”

  “While we can,” I say. She offers me her pack. “Are you sure? It’s tacky with the price of cigarettes being what they are.”

  “No, take one.”

  “Listen, are you having fun?”

  “Well, everyone is celebrating and I don’t think we should be.”

  “You can’t be incensed all the time.”

  “I know, but you don’t have a job.”

  “I know, but look on the bright side, I get a summer vacation.” When I’m around other people I think I need to put on this front, regardless of how I feel.

  “You heard about the Harvard thing?”

  “Yeah, unbelievable.”

  “You know, I was so excited to work here because I loved the idea that I could reach kids. You know I bought into all the shit. And now all anyone ever talks about is money. It sucks.”

  “I know. I think that’s what I started for, too. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Let me get you one.”

  “Please, Jen, I’ve been getting spoiled all night. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I’d really like to get you a drink.”

  “Okay.”

  “A gimlet for me and—”

  “Cuervo Gold margarita on the rocks,” she says. I smile.

  “Now, that’s a drink.” I pay the tab. I hold up my glass to her and we clink. “To loving what you do.”

  “And tween girls,” she says.

  “And tween girls.”

  Beth invites Tommy to a Fourth of July party. The owner of the studio she works for has a summer house on Long Island. I get a pity invite. I would like to stand by my principles and not go. I think I want to punish Beth somehow for not really being that involved in my life these days, but I don’t want to stay home. Besides, we’ve been shorting out the electricity a lot and the only thing worse than sitting home alone is sitting home alone in a virtual oven.

  “She said to bring your bathing suit,” Tommy says to me over dinner. “This guy has a giant pool. I think he’s loaded.”

  We are eating bread with a salad of tomatoes, basil and fresh mozzarella cheese. We ate this two nights ago, but I really like the fresh cheese. Perhaps I’ve been eating a little too much of it. None of my clothes fit me anymore.

  After dinner I dig out my bathing suits. I have a brown bikini and a black one-piece. For laughs, I try on the bikini and stare at myself in the mirror. Now, I’ve always been one to enjoy my curves—but this is too much. My belly looks paunchy, my thighs are thick, and I’m certain my boobs have begun to sag. None of this is aided by the fact that my whole body is pasty white.

  I have to start eating less cheese. I have to start working out. I have to do something.

  Even the black one-piece looks bad. I bought it when we went on a cruise with Tommy’s parents and it’s really conservative. My belly seems to stick out even more. The color really makes me look like Casper the Friendly Ghost.

  I sit on my bed and wrap myself in a blanket. The party is tomorrow and stores will be closed. I don’t think I could stand to try on bathing suits in the dressing room light with a three-way mirror
accentuating my every stretch mark. I long for the days of living with Lauryn. I would be able to vent and, if I recall, she had some really cute wraps.

  I call Beth.

  “Hey,” she says. “Are you going tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I don’t know if she even wants me there or if I will ruin her too-cool image with my quasi-pregnant belly.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “I got a new bathing suit and summer dress. This is an upscale crowd.” Gee, thanks for the warning.

  “Do you have any wraps?”

  “What?”

  “You know, sarongs—to wear over my bathing suit.” I need help. “I’m feeling a little bloated.”

  “Too much tempura?” There is an actual joke to her tone. I appreciate it.

  “Don’t I wish. No, I’m just a gluttonous, unemployed fattie.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got to go—it’s my other line. I’ll see you tomorrow. Jordan’s driving.”

  “Jordan’s going?”

  “Yeah, Tommy invited him. He’s got a car.”

  “Since when?”

  “Rebecca, I don’t know. I have to get my other line.” Her tone becomes testy.

  “Okay, bye.”

  Esme and I are holding hands. We are walking around a pool. She is bigger than she usually is, but still not a real girl. She is wearing one of Lauryn’s sarongs. I am wearing my bikini and my stomach hangs down to my thighs. This doesn’t really bother me. We are looking for something and it seems that no matter how much we walk the pool keeps getting bigger.

  “What are we looking for?” I ask over and over. “Where is the panda?”

  The panda is this sort of imaginary friend that Esme has that helps her solve things. I have a feeling we might be looking for him, so I ask her again.

  “What are we looking for?” She stops and points into the pool. When she speaks, her voice sounds different.

  “Your friends.”

  I wake up, sweating. My clock says 6:32. I think about getting up, but I lie in bed until I fall asleep.