by Cee Smith
Friday, August 14th
“Please tell me this little shindig you have planned isn’t going to turn into some rager. We’re not exactly living in a dorm room anymore, Tea.” I shuffled through the hangers. An eggplant purple blouse beckoned me from its confinement between a rack of clothes. I pulled it out, holding it up to my chest, as I looked in the mirror. Teagan stopped in front of me so all I could see was the outline of her back shadowing my reflection.
With a faux accent, she replied, “Ragers are so two years ago.”
The scolding I would get from my mother if she were to find out we were having a party at my aunt’s house would be epic. We could get away with these types of things at the dorm. Real working adults didn’t want to hear young kids living it up, reminding them of long lost days they couldn’t recall even if they stuck to their daily pills of Ginkgo Biloba.
“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Indy. We’re supposed to be celebrating. You got the job! I mean, I know you had that shit in the bag, but your first fucking interview! Owww! Working girl, coming through!” Teagan snapped her fingers and did some kind of catcall sound, drawing attention from the storeowners. Handing out apologies like greetings, I grimaced and ducked into a row of blazers, hiding my face from further scrutiny.
“Can you keep it down? I appreciate the enthusiasm, but let’s save that for later. I’m having a real Julia Roberts moment here with you yelling out I’m a working girl like they can find me on the corner at the nearest red-light district.” I ended my tirade on a whisper, glancing around to ensure no one had heard me. The last thing I needed was to be chased out of a store for people thinking I was a prostitute trying to play dress-up.
“You should get this shirt.” She tossed me a hanger and moved to another rack, giving the row of clothes a once-over before moving to the next. Teagan browsed through the store like a six year old in a candy store, her curvy hips swiveling of their own accord as she moved about. You’d think she was the one that got a new job with the level of excitement shown in those big stormy eyes of hers.
Afraid of drawing Teagan’s attention, the store clerk whispered to me an offer of assistance, all the while watching my friend move through the store like the Tasmanian Devil. I could understand how a meek girl such as her would feel inferior to Teagan’s boisterous personality. Her energy made the store feel claustrophobic.
“Sure, can you start a room for me?” Thankful for the escape, she took the clothes I offered her before scurrying off to the fitting room.
“How ‘bout this?” A couple rows down, Teagan held up a jersey floral print skirt for my approval.
“Uhhh. Do you think that’s business casual?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“OK, but what shoes would I wear with that?”
“What about those gold strappy shoes you have?”
“I’ll try it on,” I conceded, even though I had a big question mark hanging in my head over the fabric that still dangled from her arm.
“What size are we looking at again?”
My head dropped at an angle as I stared her down. “Do you mind, Tea. I really don’t want to be shouting my size across the store.”
“Why? Everyone here should be jealous. You have a nice juicy ass, some sinister hips, and a little itty-bitty waist. What’s to be embarrassed about?”
I could explain it all day, but she was my friend; she would never understand that I was still figuring out how to dress a figure I was struggling with. That little waist and big ass she mentioned often left me in ill-fitting pants that either cut off my oxygen or buckled at the waist in rippling fabric, making finding a decent pair of jeans like finding the fountain of youth—it was damn near a myth.
“Just pick up a four and a six,” I huffed out as I made my way to the fitting rooms.
The little get together she had planned had temporarily absorbed all thoughts of the job waiting for me on Monday morning. At the moment, I was more interested in what she had planned. Knowing Teagan, she had been downplaying who was coming or how many people she had invited. I was more worried about what the state of my aunt’s apartment was going to look like the following morning.
Emerging from my bedroom, the first thing I noticed was the transformation. Back in the living room, chairs were grouped in the corners of the room. The couch had been moved adjacent to the large window with views of the Guggenheim and the park. A white coverlet covered our dining room table and a cornucopia of beers and various drinks bobbed in a large ice-filled tub in the center. Catered tins of food sat on either side of the bin, and on the counter, plates, cups and silverware. Small vases filled with bright pink peonies were placed along the high-top bar.
“Wow. Tea, I’m impressed.”
“That kind of sounded like an insult. What do you think, Jed?” Teagan looked up at Jed still opening one of the foldout chairs. Remaining neutral, he shrugged his shoulders and flashed me one of his blinding smiles before moving on to the next chair.
“This is how I make a living, you know, but it’s not like you gave me enough time to go all out.”
“I would hate to see what ‘going all out’ would entail. Remember, it’s just supposed to be a few people over to help celebrate.”
Jed popped his head up and looked between the two of us as if I’d missed the memo. The sun dipped between the trees outside glinted its golden rays off the blond strands falling across his forehead, creating a halo effect. If only he could pass that halo to Teagan.
“Teagan…Tea?” My aim at getting her attention was met without so much as a piqued ear or wandering eye.
“Don’t make me tell people they have to leave. You promised.”
“Consider it a going-away party.”
“But no one is leaving. I got a new job.”
“That’s a going away of sorts. This is a going-away party for your adolescence. We’re all saying bon voyage. Don’t be so self-centered. This party is about all of us.”
“But everyone we know has pretty much already landed their jobs. This sounds like an excuse for us to act like reckless college students.”
“What if I promise to clean up after the party—”
“You’re doing that anyway.”
“OK, then what? What will make you live a little? What if I do the dishes for the next week?”
“Make it two, vacuuming included.”
“Go get a drink in you. You’re a little stiff.” She shook out her limbs as if prompting me to follow suit. I rolled my shoulders while she continued to shake. Jed started bobbing his head up and down, and we looked like a dancing trio that should be out on the corner busking instead of doing some silent disjointed dance in the middle of my living room.
“You know, while you’re at it,” Teagan shouted like the strength of her voice was muffled by the sound of music. Perhaps it was the music in her head that she continued moving her body to. “You should put some music on.”
At some point during the night, the music rose to a decibel level that made the windowpanes shake like blades of grass rippling within a crushing storm. The house became a mosh pit of bodies pushing and pulling, and in the mayhem, I let my body pulse against the (mostly) subtle touches of people brushing past.
“These brownies are delicious, Indy! Have you tried them?” Teagan’s voice drew me away from staring at the kid in the corner who’d taken up beating my congratulations balloons like bongos. His enthusiasm should have been reserved for stages and spotlights, yet there he was blessing us with his rock star imitation. The room spun like a merry-go-round. My veins absorbed the heavy haze of alcohol like a dirty sponge left in the sink.
I staggered to the table where Teagan hovered over the plate of brownies like Gollum with his “precious.” Fingers caked with chocolate, Teagan licked her digits like popsicles, her tongue slipping beneath her nails to dislodge the unreachable bits.
“Ooh. Indy. Have you tried these? They’re delicious.”
“Ewwww. You put your fingers in them. You
’re dirty.” Am I slurring?
“Try one of them.” Particles of chocolate broke against the corners of my mouth as she shoved a brownie to my lips. I laughed at her failed attempt and licked the corners of my mouth so I didn’t look like the fucking cookie monster for the remainder of the party.
“It’s good, right?”
I mimicked her invigorated headshake, noticing the added weight of my head. Still feeling the effects of my alcohol consumption, a man I’d never met before sidled up to Tea and me.
He looked more appropriate to be meeting someone after work for drinks than at a party, which could easily be mistaken for a belated graduation party.
“Who’s he?” I questioned Tea as if he couldn’t answer for himself. Like a marionette, her eyebrows and shoulders lifted in unison.
“Who are you?”
“Vaughn. I’m Vaughn. You know, Tim’s friend.” He pointed somewhere off in the distance, and my focus drifted with the rolling of his hand.
“Vance?” Teagan’s droopy eyes lifted in excitement at her perception of his name before barreling on. Vaughn looked just as confused as I felt trying to decipher Teagan’s slurred gibberish, “Indy, knows a V, Vance, Victor…she looked for him. For months. High and low,” her hand waved, pantomiming her words. “He was a stranger. She met him on the subway and—”
“And he seemed nice.” Using the bulk of my remaining strength, I snagged Teagan’s arm, pulling her away from the table. I waved goodbye to Vaughn before disappearing in the small group of people milling nearby.
“Ow.” She rubbed her arm after I finally released her.
“Tea, what the hell?” I stumbled, as the wall I leaned against moved without warning. Why did she have to bring him up, and to a stranger no less? God forbid, she would have finished that sentence before I pulled her away. Jesus, how would the end of that sentence have sounded? Yeah, this party you’re at to celebrate my friend becoming a professional? Well, yeah, she sucks off strangers to get her jollies off. Oh and she’s spent the last three months simultaneously looking for a job and for the guy who may as well be an apparition with the way he vanished.
It wasn’t like I expected to get his number and keep in touch, but there was something that happened that night. It was unexplainable. Believe me, I’d tried to rationalize it. I stayed up late at night sitting in front of my computer cruising the Internet, only to be led to Facebook and once again searching his name hoping the next time I would get a hit.
Even before Ryan and I broke up, I had taken up trying to find this mysterious “Vett.” It didn’t take long to realize it was either a nickname or some variation of his real name that was so obscure it made finding him impossible.
I’d never felt as hopeless as those nights I fell asleep with the memory of the taste of him on my tongue and those incinerator-green eyes of his, branding passion onto my soul. Not the kind of passion typically experienced in the melding of mouths and writhing of bodies, but a passion molded on a molecular level, until you felt that person bind themselves to your DNA.
When I wasn’t meeting the eyes of strangers I passed on the street—at the hope that one day it would be his eyes I would meet—I continued to call back the feelings he evoked, oftentimes feeling the ache of longing that stirred in my belly. The slow simmer of need hollowed through my womb leaving a dull throb that could only be relieved with the brush of my fingers. Even after I brought myself to sudden release, the phantom pain would return.
Sometimes I wondered if he thought of me. Did he search for the girl with the black hair that tumbled to her waist and skin the color of fall leaves? Did he stare into strangers’ eyes in his quest for me? Did he regret that his stop was before mine?
Monday, August 17th
Most of Monday’s schedule included shuffling from one meeting to another—an hour with HR, where I spent a half hour watching a thirty-minute video on types of harassment in the workplace. Another hour included going over the company history as well as standing business.
When I had arrived that morning, Maggie was once again my tour guide as she led me through the office, this time giving a more detailed tour of the top two floors where the conference rooms and executive suites were held. It felt like being in grade school all over again, where I was led from one room to another, passing bees of a hive as they buzzed about their day. Maggie introduced me to almost everyone that passed us, and I was impressed by the warm welcome I received from just about everyone she introduced me to.
“This pod is reserved for our team. We try to meet at least once a day for thirty minutes to go over any questions or comments, designs that we’re struggling with, or to shoot the shit when everything is running smoothly and we’re ahead of deadline.”
She opened the glass door to one of the glass boxes I’d seen on the first tour. In the center of the room was a large round table with chairs and laptops fanned out. On the far right wall was a sofa and some chairs, with a few people talking excitedly around a man with a laptop resting on his legs.
“Guys,” Maggie said, drawing their attention.
“This is our newest team member, Indigo. Indigo, this is Jasmine and Ed. Jasmine is our Promotions Manager. You’ll be working alongside Ed with branding. Ed also does our market research.”
“Welcome to the team.” Jasmine moved to shake my hand while Ed stood behind her congratulating me. “Jonathan here is from our Sales department. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he was trying to jump ship.” With hand on hip, Maggie stared him down with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow.
“What would you do if I didn’t stop by at least once a day?”
“I think he just likes our pod better,” Jasmine said.
“You got me.” Shifting his laptop, he stood, hands raised in mock surrender. “Don’t tell Frank or I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Beat it, Jonathan.” Maggie smiled and kicked her head in the direction of the door. Jonathan chuckled and grabbed his laptop. His tall, lean body shifted through the room, moving through our group so Maggie and I had to part to let him reach the door. “Catch you later.” He winked at me as he slid past us. Through the glass I watched him exit and walk down the hall until he faded from sight.
“Don’t mind him. He’s harmless.” Jasmine pulled my attention back to the group.
“Here, let me show you where you’ll be sitting.”
Ed led me to the opposite side of the round table where I’d have a perfect view of the goings-on outside of our little marketing world.
“Did Maggie already show you some free-floating spots?”
“I hadn’t gotten around to showing her yet. Indigo, how about you get settled here, and after lunch I’ll show you some areas that you’ll be able to work when not in this room. I believe you have a meeting with Mr. Belford later, so I’ll show you before your meeting.”
“Sounds good.”
“See you kids later.” Maggie beamed from the door just before leaving. I spent the next hour logging in, going through emails, and checking my calendar, which was already filled with the week’s meetings.
Ed helped me by going over topics covered in the meetings already adorning my calendar for the week, and I shadowed him as he discussed projects he’d been working on. Jasmine chimed in from time to time, but for the most part she seemed fully engaged in whatever she had going on on her side of the table.
“Is it normally only the three of us in here?”
“The other guys are at a conference right now,” Jasmine said without looking up. “There’s a product design conference in New Orleans. They should be back later this week. Maggie comes in for our daily meetings and occasionally she works from here. Otherwise she works from her office. Did she show you where that is?”
“Yeah, it’s across the hall, right?” I looked up from my computer, noticing the unimpeded access to see her office from where I sat.
“Her office is the one right next to Mr. Belford’s.” Ed pointed through the glass, and I loo
ked up just in time to see a man walking into the door Ed had just pointed to. I wasn’t sure if that was Mr. Belford, but his stature was striking from this distance. There was something familiar about the movement of his body.
I couldn’t see much of him, but his hair looked quite long for someone in Mr. Belford’s position. Most of these director types shared the same close-cropped hair, perfectly tailored suits, and underlying smugness—unless it wasn’t underlying and was downright apparent. The man of whom I’d only caught a glimpse suddenly intrigued me.
“Do we all report to Mr. Belford?” I asked, still staring at the closed door of his office.
For the first time, Jasmine stopped typing and peered over her laptop to stare at Ed. I looked between the two of them seeing surprise evident on both of their faces. “Is that who Maggie said you’d be reporting to?”
“Maybe I have it wrong. I thought that’s what she said, but that wouldn’t really make sense.”
“They did mention that project they were bringing on.” I watched Jasmine’s face showing obvious signs of her mind working through my revelation. She shrugged her shoulders, and Ed and I were left to continue the conversation without her. “That would make sense. Maybe they brought you on to help with the project?”
“They didn’t mention anything specific. Do you know what this project is?”
“I believe the meeting is scheduled on your calendar. The one titled ‘September TBA.’” Ed pointed to the highlighted schedule visible on my screen, and I followed the tip of his finger down the column of meetings scheduled for the upcoming week.
Double-clicking, I tried to see if the bolded meeting held any more information aside from “September TBA,” but all I could see was a list of names, only a few of which stood out to me. I closed the browser, giving Ed a smile that was meant to mask my slight embarrassment as he watched me fiddle with the keys of my keyboard.
“Maybe Mr. Belford planned on telling you about it in your meeting later.”
For the first time since we’d sat down, Ed began working at his computer, apparently too focused to pull his eyes away to speak to me.
