On the Verge

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On the Verge Page 11

by Ariella Papa


  “Maybe you’re not being aggressive enough.” Is she out of her bird? My expression must register, because she starts one of those phony office apologies that people give when they are totally insulting, but can’t afford to offend you. “I mean, maybe they just can’t recognize the importance of it. After all, I am wasting money and productivity. It’s a big deal.”

  I am starting to sense that to Lacey everything (with the exception of indoor canine urination) is a big deal. Hasn’t she ever had a first day before? First days are all about bumming around trying to figure out your place and getting a feel for the environment. Not much work gets done on first days. They aren’t supposed to. In fact, first days are suspiciously similar to my job.

  “Well,” I say, trying to remain cheery (she is really testing my new stance on positivity), “if you want to give them a call, you certainly can.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I would have the impact you would.” I thought I was just accused of not being aggressive enough.

  “So, what would you like me to do?” Lacey looks like a little girl who has to go to the bathroom, except her face is too put together. She twists a little and fidgets.

  “Can you call them again, please?”

  “Oh, sure.” Just go away. She stands there waiting for me to call. “Now?”

  “If you could.” She smiles. Jesus. I dial Tabitha’s number. She can tell it’s me from her caller ID.

  “Hey, Eve.”

  “Um, hi, my name is Eve Vitali. I’ve called several times today about getting a computer for Lacey Matthews.”

  “Is that the bitch with the pooch?”

  “That’s right. Well no one has yet come up to install her computer.”

  “What is this? Is she right there?”

  “Yes, and I mean basically Ms. Matthews has been stagnant all day. It is really a waste of her tremendous talent.” I smile at Lacey and nod. We are on the same side.

  “Mother of God.”

  “I mean she can’t write without her computer.”

  “Why don’t you tell her to go fuck herself.”

  “Oh, I’ve already tried that, but I still haven’t gotten a response.”

  “This woman is going to kill you. You shouldn’t even indulge these sick fantasies.”

  “Yes, I know that. Do you have a supervisor I could talk to?”

  “Why, am I not being helpful enough?”

  “Oh, he left already.”

  “Why would you assume that he was a guy? See how sexism is ingrained?”

  “You know that’s exactly what someone I spoke to earlier said—it usually takes a day to process.” Now Lacey is enjoying cheering me on. She is mouthing something to me about deadlines. “I mean, really, she is on a deadline. This is a magazine company.”

  “Nice touch. She’s used to the sound of her clock ticking. This, too, shall pass.”

  “Yeah, well what do you expect her to do?”

  “Maybe get laid instead of walking her barbaric dog, so she can get off your back. It might work wonders.”

  “I’m not even sure that would do it.”

  “Most likely not, but I think you can be a little snottier. Show me who’s the boss.”

  “Yes, I understand and I want you to know how imperative it is that we get this computer as soon as possible.”

  “You know, next she’ll need help wiping her ass.”

  “I’m certain that would be the next step.”

  “There you go. Keep that witch tone going.”

  “Now give me the absolute latest it will be installed. This woman needs to start cranking.”

  “That’s not all she needs.”

  “Okay, we definitely need to have it before then. I don’t want to have to get our supervisors involved in this.”

  “Oh, no, anything but that.” Tabitha uses this Southern accent and I almost lose it.

  “Okay, so I have your word? What’s your name?”

  “What are you going to do, ho? Call my supervisor? Haven’t I been helpful? Haven’t I bent over backward? You want my name? Okay, fine. Zeke.”

  “Great, Luis. Thanks for all your help.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, you, too. Thanks again.” We hang up. I smile at Lacey. She seems genuinely impressed. I hope I haven’t started a trend of doing her dirty work for her.

  “Thanks, Eve. So what did they say?” Lacey thinks that if she uses my name I will think she sees me as a person, not just someone to literally piss on.

  “Well, Lacey, they think tomorrow afternoon, Wednesday the absolute latest. It’s a mess down there. He told me about all these people they had to service first. Totally unorganized. I suggest you bring in your laptop, just in case.” Lacey sighs.

  “Well, okay. Listen, Eve, I really appreciate it.” She switches into some phony British accent like that is supposed to be friendly or something. It’s stupid.

  “Fine, Lacey, anytime.” I wave her off. Don’t give me too much praise.

  Moments later the computer guys show up and ask me who needs their computer set up. There’s two ways to play this. I can freak out because I insisted to Lacey that they were backed up or I can make it my moment. The danger is that Lacey will think her nagging is ultimately responsible and she will continue to hound me whenever she needs something done and that will, as my sweet grandmother would say, “drive me to an early grave.” I don’t want to start that trend. I stride over to Lacey’s desk with the computer guys in tow.

  “Look who’s here, apparently the person I spoke to was misinformed. They were already on their way, because of all my earlier harassment.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Lacey looks like she is going to have an orgasm. I flit back to my desk and call Tabitha.

  “Stellar performance.”

  “I do my best. The computer guys came to put a muzzle on her.”

  “Now wasn’t that quick turnaround? You see the speed in which I operate.”

  Lacey comes to me before she leaves. She gushes with thanks and tells me she is so glad she got so much accomplished on the first day. Of course it’s never enough. “So what about the other supplies?”

  “At least two days.”

  “Of course we thought that about the computer.” I am definitely going to sit on the other supplies for at least a week if they come in before that. I should try not to do my job too well. “Well, have a good night.”

  “You have a great night.”

  It’s not easy to be positive on Mondays.

  When I get home Roseanne is sitting on the couch in her sweats watching Jerry Springer in his fourth run today. I don’t ask her if she’s seen the first three. The house smells good though, like food. She must’ve gotten up off the couch at some point.

  “How was your day?”

  “Well, no sign of our furry tenants. I watched a lot of talk shows. Made mango-glazed pork chops and garlic mashed potatoes for dinner. Joined a gym, well actually I signed us both up for one. It’s right on 8th.”

  “A gym? How much?”

  “A few hundred down usually, but it was two for one so it’s like one hundred and change for each of us. Then it’s seventy.”

  “More?”

  “A month.” I am certain she is going off the deep end.

  “Roseanne, I really don’t have that kind of money right now. I wish you discussed this with me first.” Is everyone in cahoots to drive any positive thoughts from my head? Remain calm. Smile and nod.

  “Eve, our fitness is important. There’ll always be a tomorrow. We need to start now.”

  “What is that? Is that in the ad? Where are you getting this? I like being unfit. I drink too much to be fit. So do you.”

  “That’s why we have to do this. If we are going to enlarge our livers we have to enlarge our muscles, too.” She is undoubtedly reading too many pamphlets.

  “Well, fitness is expensive, Ro, and I prefer to spend my money on my vices. Besides, how are we going to afford this?”

&nbs
p; “I got a job.” What? “Yep.” She gets up and goes into the kitchen. I follow her and watch her pour wine, then put our feast on the plates. She has set our tiny kitchen table, so we can actually eat in our kitchen. Just like the ad.

  “So we’re celebrating.”

  “Yes—” she takes a sip of wine “—we are celebrating fitness.”

  “No, your job. Aren’t you excited about your job?”

  “Well, I guess. It’s in some boring old firm. Don’t you get all out of hand, it’s very, and I mean very, low level.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “I answered an ad. I suspect they just wanted a woman, but I got it.”

  “That’s fabulous.” I hold my glass up to her to toast. She clinks mine, reluctantly. “What’s wrong? Not enough salary?”

  “Actually, it’s more than I ever dreamed of. They pay lots in New York. I don’t know, though, I mean, do I want to sit around and play with numbers all day?”

  “I could never understand how you did it in school. Those classes were awful.”

  “Yeah and I was so jealous of you when you got out of that major. I figured I was good at it so it would have to get better, but it didn’t fascinate me like your job fascinates you.”

  “My job does not fascinate me. Not in the least.”

  “You get into it—and you yourself said it’s a foot in the door. Plus the things you want to do are more exciting.”

  “If I could figure out what it was. I question that ‘foot in the door’ stuff. The good thing about all those business people at school was that they seemed to have a definite plan. There’s something calming about that. I mean you graduate from college with your business-related major, you line up a job for September, you travel, getting it out of your system, and then boom you’re on a track to success, to all those attainable American things. Shit! One talk with my sister and this is how I start to think.”

  “No, you’re absolutely right. But I don’t know if I want that. I don’t want it to be predictable. I want something, I don’t know. I guess it is nice to have your life planned, but when the actual life is so boring and has to be lived in uncomfortable hell it isn’t as cool.”

  “But it is good. You got a job.”

  “I guess.”

  “How’s the salary?”

  “45.” I think I’m going to choke on my pork chop. Can she mean forty-five thousand? “But, Eve, they’re buying my life from me.”

  “Well, at least for a good price.”

  When we finish eating I do the dishes. It’s a familiar college pattern, she cooks, I clean up. It’s only eight o’clock, I feel like there is so much more time left in the evening. We decide to walk down into the village.

  Then we visit Adrian. It’s just 9:30 and I still can’t get over all the time we have in a day. We walk up 8th Avenue and ogle all the pretty boys. Adrian’s friend Cliff is visiting. I think there’s something up between them, but whenever I try to get Adrian’s attention to mouth stuff to him, he looks confused. We convince Roseanne to have a drink, although she vows that she is totally revamping now that we have joined a gym.

  “C’mon, hon, just a drink.” Adrian is already up and in the kitchen. I follow him.

  “What’s the deal with Cliff?”

  “He’s a total Rice Queen, not into my occidental stuff. Did you hear who Miss Thing was going out with tonight?” Adrian does a mock salute and says, “Frankfurter.”

  “Johann? No, sir.”

  “Yeah, she just called. He invited her out for a late dinner. She had tried you at your place. She assumed you were out running with Roseanne. That girl has issues.”

  “Shit. She’s going out with him to help Roseanne get a job. Rosie just got one.”

  Adrian assures me that these small acts of generosity are something we should try to encourage in Tabitha. I know he’s right, although I am concerned that she will hold this, too, against Roseanne.

  We drink at Adrian’s for a while. I suspect Cliff may like him, despite what Adrian said. If I was a gay man, I definitely would. I may, despite my hetero state, have a crush on him anyway. (It’ll be fine, I’m used to disappointment.) Cliff doesn’t leave when we do. Adrian walks us down.

  “I think you might just get some booty,” I say as I kiss him.

  “We’ll see about that.” He kisses Roseanne. “Take care, ladies. My love to the mouse.”

  We walk back to our place. I look up at it from the street. I find my main worry is that someone will break in and take my stuff. Monica would have a field day with the fact that my material belongings are my most important concern.

  “Eve, do you think I’ve got the New York Kiss down?” What is she talking about? “You know, everyone in New York seems to kiss each other. Sometimes. I mean you never can tell. The other night at the bar you kissed the bartender. You didn’t kiss Brad’s friend. You kissed Brad. We both just kissed Adrian. Sometimes you kiss Tabitha. You never kiss me. What’s the story?”

  “Wow! I didn’t realize you were keeping such good tabs on who I was kissing. I guess it’s just like a regular kiss, there’s no hard and fast rule. Just whenever. Like a handshake or something. No rules. I mean, I guess you go with the other person.”

  “Okay. Let’s look for droppings.” Roseanne’s new pre-Letterman pastime is the rodent patrol. She forces me to look around the kitchen on my hands and knees for curious particles that may or may not be rat dung. I find nothing, but she insists that a piece of dirt is a dropping. I try to reassure her, but it doesn’t work. Luckily it’s 11:35 and I can coax her over to the television. She sighs, sitting on the couch. She isn’t quite ready to give up on the rat thing, but Letterman lulls her into a calm. I make my escape right before the first commercial break. Before I fall asleep, I note that she stomps into the kitchen twice and flings the light on. I will not be roused and brought into this war.

  At about 3:30 a.m. the phone rings. I scramble to get it, disoriented. It’s a drunk Tabitha. “I hope you’re happy.”

  “Oh, Tabitha, what is it? It’s late.” My heart is beating so fast. I think I was dreaming Adrian was a samurai.

  “I went out with Johann. I had to eat lots of gross German food, but some good wine. He doesn’t know of any jobs, but he’ll take Roseanne’s résumé.”

  “Great, Tabitha, thanks.” I think I might fall asleep on the phone. I’m not even going to tell her about Roseanne’s job. I’ll save that reprimand for tomorrow. “I’m going back to sleep now.”

  “Well, he definitely lost some hair since we last went out, but he still wears leopard bikinis.” Of course.

  “Well, Tabitha, at least it wasn’t a complete bust—you got a November notch on your hooking-up post.”

  “My heart belongs to Jaques.” I’m really going back to bed. I cannot deal with another lament about the Frenchman. “Besides, I’m not sure if Johann counts, since we already hooked up last March. Of course I had also hooked up with Romolo in March. Can the same guy count for two months? Can I hold over a guy if there’s more than one in a month?”

  “Tabitha, the regulations are definitely something we can discuss tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, okay, good night.”

  As usual the days seem to fly by and drag at the same time. For a while, I can’t help feeling that I have all of this time. My nights seem so full. I let Roseanne drag me to a couple of step classes and I try to run each night on the treadmill for fifteen minutes. I’m a baby about exercise. I hate it. Roseanne keeps telling me about the hard New York bodies she sees and she’s got a point, but I just can’t get into going to the sweaty, yucky gym. Tabitha laughs at me in the mornings when I tell her how much pain I’m in. She says she would go to a spa if she cared about “that stuff.”

  “Well, not everyone has your trust fund, Tabitha.” As usual, she ignores any talk of money.

  On Friday, I decide to blow off the whole gym thing and go out with Adam and Joe from marketing for some drinks. I try to coax both Tabitha and Roseanne
to come out. Neither is very compliant.

  “Thanks to you, I’m going out with Johann. He’s taking me to some ridiculously expensive hot spot that has yet to find its way into our illustrious mag. I want to get while the getting’s good.”

  “As I’m confident you will.”

  “Well, I was certain you’d be raquetballing or something tonight.”

  “Touché. I can’t go to the gym. I draw my line at the weekend.”

  “Okay fine, give me a call tomorrow.” I sigh. “Well, if you must leave me a voice mail tonight. If you go somewhere good.”

  Roseanne is dissing, too. She is compelled to work out, even on this most sacred night of the week. Of course Friday means nothing to her now, but give her a week of working and I know she will abandon this fervor.

  “Roseanne, it’s Friday night. Can’t you just exercise now and get it over with?”

  “Eve, until I am making money, I don’t want to be spending money.”

  “Never mind the small fortune we spent on the gym. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “That’s only going to last so long, Eve, but I do appreciate it. Really.”

  “Roseanne, come on, there’s going to be boys there. Don’t you want some loving?”

  “I’ll pass thanks. Speaking of loving, I looked up Pete Twist today.”

  “Shit! What’s his story?” Pete’s a guy who used to live on our dorm floor. Roseanne had the biggest crush on him. He’s real quiet. We were both better friends with Todd, his roommate, whom I suspect had a huge crush on me.

  “You know he’s in New York, right?”

  “No, how did you know?”

  “Todd told me. Pete is bartending and trying to be an actor.” I can’t believe Todd called her and he never calls me. “He’s on the Lower East Side.”

  “Cool. Are we going to see him?”

  “I’m meeting him for a drink tonight after the gym.” Now it all makes sense. I can tell that means she doesn’t want me to come.

  “What’s Todd up to?”

  “He’s doing well. He still works for the same clothes company in Atlanta. He travels around a lot—to India mostly, sometimes Hong Kong. He actually checks the factories.”

 

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