by Ariella Papa
I call Todd. I know he is out of the country right now, though I don’t know where. We haven’t talked since Roseanne’s birthday. I try not to think about his face when I took the cab to Rob’s place. It’s the last thing I need. I get his voice mail, which says he will be out of the office, traveling, but checking his voice mail. I hate leaving messages, especially because I know he’ll probably roll his eyes when he gets it.
“Hey, it’s me. It’s Eve. Just kind of bored and sick of work. I, um, wanted to see how you were. How are you? You can call me back when you get a chance. Or not. Whatever. Take care.” I hang up. That was stupid.
“Eve, how’s it going?” It’s Herb. He is really getting into this whole YFL thing. He is wearing an Indian print cotton shirt. “Are those letters coming along?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s going great. I’ll definitely have them done by Wednesday.” It’s Monday. I’ve barely gotten through forty. I am so screwed.
“Wonderful, Eve. Terrific. And you’ve been separating them into piles. How’s the Breathe pile?”
“Well, it’s a little ambiguous because, you know, we haven’t really nailed down exactly what this Breathe thing is.” He nods, thoughtfully.
“But, Eve, I’m sure you’ll do your best.”
“Oh, yeah, as always.”
I call my mom and tell her I am coming home for dinner tonight. I want to check up on her, now that this part of the treatment’s over. She protests for a while, but I won’t give up. I want to see her.
“Okay, honey…but I just want you to realize that I’m losing some of my hair. It’s not awful, but I’m wearing a lot of hats. Just don’t be alarmed.”
“Mom, it’s fine, I don’t care about your hair, just relax and don’t make anything for dinner. I’ll bring home some pizza or Chinese or something.”
“Okay, honey. I don’t have much of an appetite. I’ve been having lots of soup.”
“I’ll pick up some soup on the way home at one of those soup places. They’re really good.” I am trying to sound happy and excited for her, so she won’t worry about me when she’s already got so much else on her mind.
I stop at Macy’s. They’re having a sale so I get a bunch of scarves for my mom.
My dad meets me at the train station in New Jersey. I don’t want to be annoyed at him anymore, but I feel like I can’t let go. He keeps nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I decide to try, for my mother’s sake, to be civil. “How’s the not smoking coming, Dad?”
“Well, I got the patch, but I miss the habit. You know?”
“Yeah, I know. So, how do you think Mom is?”
“The doctors are still optimistic. The chemotherapy is working well on the cancer. It’s just a shame she can’t feel better, you know, she gets queasy.” I feel a little queasy when we pull into my driveway. My mother is standing in the doorway, like she used to do when I was in high school.
“Hi, honey.” She gives me a big hug. She’s got on a baseball hat, but I can see there is some hair under it. My house smells different, like sickness.
“Hey, Mom. I got four different kinds of soup and here—” I give her the Macy’s bag. “Those are for you, so you can be fashionable, even when you don’t feel so good.” My mom oohs and ahhs over every scarf like it’s Christmas morning.
We all sit around the dining room table and my mom keeps chatting like she usually does. For once, I’m actually into it. I study her for signs of what’s going on. She hardly eats any of her soup. My dad and I both offer her some of ours.
“No, I’m just not very hungry,” she says. She puts her hands up to her head and closes her eyes. I look at my father, who is calmly checking his watch.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, honey. Just time for my pills.” She tries to smile. My father is up getting her pill bottles. I go to the kitchen and fill up a glass of water. When I return to the table my father is laying out five sets of pills. I watch my mother take each one.
“Make sure you drink lots of water,” my dad says calmly. They are huge horse pills. I go get my mother another glass of water. I stand in the doorway, watching my parents. My mom has her head on my dad’s shoulder. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so sad. At first, they don’t see me, but then my mom does. She smiles at me.
“I think I’m going to go lie down, honey. I’m getting really old.” She tries to make a joke out of it. “Are you staying over?”
“No, Mom, I think I’m going to head back into the city. If Dad can drive me to the bus station. If you can be alone.” My mom laughs.
“I’m not a baby, honey, I can be left alone.”
“Okay, well, at least let me help you to bed.” I don’t really want to. I want to run out of the house, go home and not think about this. I don’t want to come back until my mom is making crappy dinners and my dad is chain-smoking.
I tuck my mom in and give her a kiss on the forehead. She looks so tired. She closes her eyes right away. My dad and I don’t say too much to each other the whole way to the station. I have to take the bus in at this time. He offers to drive me into the city, but I’d rather sit on the bus alone. “I’m okay, Dad. You should get back to Mom. Just give me a call if anything changes or the doctor’s give you any news. Please.”
My dad nods. “You should talk to your sister.”
“I have.” My dad shakes his head at me. Thankfully, we’re at the station. I give him a kiss goodbye.
I’m super tired by the time I get home and I am just falling asleep when Todd calls. He’s in Sri Lanka. He sounds tired and faraway. There is this weird delay between us, so we keep talking over each other.
“I thought you forgot about me,” I say at the end of his description of the factory.
“No, I was just really busy. I meant to call before.” We are silent for a minute.
“This call is costing you too much money to be quiet,” I say as I hear him telling me that its a good thing his company pays for everything. I picture him in his impersonal hotel room and I think about how we danced.
“What are you doing right now?” He is already telling me that he’s bored just sitting on this bed wondering about what TV is on. At least we are on the same wavelength. I take a deep breath.
“I keep thinking about you,” I say a little too quickly because it just overlaps—
“I met a girl in Atlanta.”
It seems like we both say “Oh” at the same time. I resolve not to say another word until he does.
“Eve.” His voice is so soft and I think about when we fell asleep on the futon and what a coward I am. “I wish…fuck.”
“Well, maybe you should have called the girl in Atlanta then. It’s late and I have to work tomorrow.” I don’t mean that how it comes out. I wish I wasn’t bitter.
“Oh, Eve,” he says, and he sounds so lonely and I feel like the biggest shit in the world. “I’ll let you go.” There is nothing to say to that except goodbye and I try to convey an apology in that word, but I can’t.
Just before he hangs up, I hear him say, “I miss you, too.”
Here’s the part where you think I’m a big baby and even though I hate to blame PMS for things, I must be getting my period. I start to cry and I fall asleep thinking about that stupid rhyme I learned in kindergarten and would say over and over again. “April showers bring May flowers.”
Mabel comes to visit me the next morning. I’m still bitter about the way she almost pulled me over to the dark side of loving my job. She’s all smiles and concerned looks. YFL just let go of two of its staff. I wish I had her ability to feign sincerity.
“So, Eve, how are you transitioning?”
“Well, Mabel, it isn’t very easy when the person who was the closest thing I had to a mentor was unexpectedly fired and now everyone else is worried. It’s not a happy time here on this floor.” It doesn’t faze her. The thing about Mabel is she doesn’t hear anything she doesn’t want to hear. She nods thoughtfully, then turns it around.
“Well, Eve, you are going to be integral in so many parts of these changes.” She is looking deep into my eyes, she’s smiling. “You are going to be helping us with the interview process.”
“So, let me get this straight, now we’re hiring new people when we just fired a bunch? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Eve, there are going to be lots of new groundbreaking positions and we are going to begin working creatively, and in many regards, on the cutting edge. This is the time to adapt to these changes or relocate.” She smiles and lets that sink in. “I think you’ll see the benefits to Prescott Nelson as a whole as we move into the future and diversify.”
“What does that mean, Mabel?” She hands me a folder of résumés.
“Eve, can you set up interviews for these people with Herb and Lev? That would be so helpful. Oh, they need to be scheduled by Tuesday.” Great. “Have a terrific day, Eve. Call me if you need any support.” Mother of God! As if on cue, Tabitha calls me.
“The Big C’s trial is recessed until Monday. I can totally tell she’s threatened by how well I’ve been handling everything. I think she wants me out of here. I’ll petty cash a lunch at Carmine’s. Want to make our way through the screaming throngs?”
We order two family-style meals. We’re eating like fiends, like we’ve never eaten before. Tabitha is so excited about her week as an editor that she is talking with her mouth open and spilling little bits of food out of her mouth. It’s kind of gross, but also funny to see how oblivious she is to all the tourists and suits around us. I keep waiting for her to ask about me, but she just goes on, heaping huge portions of chicken parmesan onto her plate. I want to scream and yell and tell her about my mom and Mabel and Todd, but she’s almost high on this whole thing.
“Eve, this is what we’ve been waiting for. Now, I know I can do it. I don’t need a man, I don’t need anyone. I did it all, I worked it, on my own.” I can’t stand this.
“How’s Blake?” Tabitha laughs and picks up some mozzarella cheese.
“Honey, he had to go.”
“Why, he didn’t fit into the plan?” I don’t know why Tabitha of all people is annoying me so much. She ignores me and launches into the saga. I’d rather hear about this than how awesome she is for single-handedly ruling NY By Night for a week.
“And, Eve, I had to say, ‘working at Medieval Times doesn’t make you an actor.”’
“Wait! What? That’s what he did?”
“Yes, can you believe it? How embarrassing! I really liked him, too.”
“Apparently not that much.” She sits back a little in her chair.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you couldn’t have liked him that much if you just nixed him because he wasn’t a serious thespian. Everybody’s scraping by.”
“Are you out of your mind? There is no way I was going to go out with someone who told me those kinds of lies.”
“Lies? Tabitha, how many lies did you tell him?” She shakes her head. “None? Give me a break, Tabitha. Give me a fucking break! How many lies do you tell me? I don’t know the first thing about you! Do you realize that? Doesn’t it seem strange that you never talk about anything real?” I’m yelling now. I’m losing it.
“Eve, it’s fucking New York. Everyone’s got a story. You’re from New Jersey. The Big C’s a dropout. Roseanne had an eating disorder. What difference does it make?”
“None, unless you work at Medieval Times and your girlfriend breaks up with you because you can’t take her to only the finest establishments. None, unless your friends wonder why you never talk about Texas or why you always have so much money or how come you buy tons of underwear once a week.”
“You want to know what, Eve, you’re ridiculous. That’s why Adrian won’t talk to you! That’s why Rob broke up with you! You are out of control! Keep judging everyone else from your dreamworld. Keep wanting to be a writer and not writing anything. This is New York, you know. College newspaper writing just doesn’t cut it. Check, please.”
“So that’s it, Tabitha? We’re getting the check and going. You think I’m ridiculous, too.” I’m getting too upset.
Tabitha doesn’t say a word. She starts fishing out her Dunhills and puts her sunglasses on. This is it, she’s writing me off. I can’t believe it. Of all the blows. Now, I’m going to have to avoid her elevator bank, too. I leave the restaurant. Fuck her!
I go back up to the office. I can’t believe it! My heart is pounding and I feel like I am going to start crying and never stop. I need to go cry in the handicapped person bathroom, but I stop at my desk to leave my stuff. There is a huge bouquet of flowers. I can’t believe it. Could it be Rob? He’s got perfect timing, but how could he know? Todd? No, he’s wooing a Georgia peach. I read the card.
Dear Eve,
Thanks for all your hard work. Happy Secretaries Day.
Herb
I can’t stay here. I shut down my computer. I don’t know who to tell that I’m leaving. There is no more Lorraine. I e-mail Herb that I don’t feel well and I have to leave. I don’t bother to spell check it before I flee the building.
I’m running through the streets crying. I feel ridiculous. I am trembling when I get to the apartment. I lay on the couch and cry. I haven’t cried like this in so long and I’m not sure how long it lasts, but I must fall asleep crying. When I wake up, Roseanne is hovering over me in her blue suit, looking concerned.
“Eve, it’s okay.” She’s hugging me. She’s bringing me soup.
So it finally happens, that fateful night. I have my breakdown. I cry all through the night and into the next afternoon. Roseanne sleeps in my bed and keeps smoothing my hair and telling me it’s going to be okay. She calls Herb in the morning for me and actually gets him on the phone. She tells him I have bad stomach flu and haven’t been able to leave the bathroom. I hear her laughing and I can only imagine what asinine thing he is saying to her.
“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy,” Roseanne says when she hangs up. This makes me cry harder. Somehow, I manage to assure her that I’m all right being alone. It’s not like I have to go on suicide watch or anything, I just can’t seem to stop crying. I tell her that my period is on the way. I want to believe that’s all it is.
I spend the next two days on the couch; crying and watching trash TV. It’s liberating, really. I smoke cigarettes in the house, knowing Roseanne isn’t going to say anything. She is still in the midst of her audit, so she gets home real late and is working through the weekend. She tries to make me eat when she’s home, but I’ll only have soup and tea. I should have done this long ago.
Yep, I’ve been going along too easily, no more trying to be nice to anyone else. From now on, it’s all about me. All about Eve. That’s right. Just me and my bed and my sofa and my comfort TV. Happy together. I could stay like this forever. I check my messages at work. There’s one from Chuck.
“Hey, Eve, it’s Chuck. I just wanted to call and leave you my number, in case you wanted to talk. I’m around. I know you haven’t talked to your sister and you probably don’t really feel comfortable talking to me, but sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than anyone else, and anything you say to me is totally between us.” That sounds creepy, right? But, it’s not, he sounds sincere (not like Mabel sincere, like kind sincere). I write down his number and delete.
I start to cry again. I know I should call my mom, but I don’t need her to worry about me on top of everything. Besides, if anything were really wrong with her, someone would have called me, right? Maybe not.
When Roseanne comes home Monday night she stands over my bed with her hands on her hips. I assume her audit is over because she is home at five-thirty. “Eve, you smell. Do you realize that? This can’t go on. You have to get up.”
“I’m having a breakdown, Roseanne, leave me alone.”
“You are not having a breakdown, Eve, no one has breakdowns anymore. Everyone takes Prozac, which I know you don’t want. You are just feeling s
orry for yourself and it has to stop. Stop the drama. Now, get up, take a shower, tweeze your eyebrows, do your hair and eat some solid food!”
“Don’t you yell at me!” I scream as snot flies out of my nose.
“That’s real attractive, Eve.”
“I don’t care, I don’t have anyone to impress. I liked you better when you had your audit.” Roseanne sighs and then the doorbell rings. I sit up in bed.
“Who is that? Who did you invite over? Your new sane roommate? I don’t want to see anyone! Do you understand? Shut my door!” I hear Roseanne talking to Tabitha on the intercom. “I especially don’t want to see her! Shut my door!”
“Shut it your damn self,” says Roseanne, sweet as pie. She opens the door for Tabitha. “She’s in there and she don’t look pretty.”
“Fuck off, the both of you!” I scream and roll over to face the wall. I hear Tabitha come into my room. I pull the covers over my head. She sits down on my bed.
“I’m sorry, Eve.” I wish I couldn’t hear her. “I was really pissed that you questioned my life. Wanna hear something funny? The Big C is leaving at the end of May. She wants to devote her time to writing crime novels. Can you imagine? That’s so not her. One fucking stint of jury duty and she thinks she’s John Grisham.
“She called me into her office to tell me. It’s what she always wanted to do, she says, and she feels like it’s now or never. Want to hear something funnier? She said she wanted to take care of me before she left. I thought she was going to offer me her position because I had done such a bang-up job while she was out. Not quite. But she did offer me a coordinator position. She went on and on about what a good position it would be for me and how much room there would be for advancement. She told me I had a lot of potential and that she trusted me and how important trust is.
“I kept thinking that the Big C doesn’t really know too much about me, although I knew so much shit about her. I believed her when she said that she trusted me. She even said she thought of me as a good friend. Then, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her. I think she really does think I’m a friend. It’s sort of lonely, I mean it sucks when you’ve got to think of your employees as your friends, especially when they’re really not.