Monday, March 24, 2003

She felt huge in her

She felt huge in her chair.  ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ she repeated to herself as the coffee in front of her steamed and swirled with rich clots of cream.  She could taste her breakfast on her tongue.  ‘...can’t do this again....’ But as her eyes scanned the desk, everything seemed in order.  It looked like it did when she’d left it the night before, or it seemed that way to her casual glance… ‘...maybe I can do this once more,’ something tired in her muttered.  She exhaled slowly, through her mouth, with careful control. 

Her phone rang.  Reactively she began functioning.  The work occupied her mind; she couldn’t think about her thick wrists or stubby fingers when she was up to her ears in busy work.  She took pride in doing things well.  Twenty minutes later, when she came to a pause, she smiled internally.  ‘I don’t care what they think of me,’ she comforted herself.  ‘I’m as good as any of them.’

Mandy walked up, looking great in a suit that must have cost her a fortune.  “Hey, good morning.  Did you get that tape I left for you last night?”

She looked down at her desk, feeling the leading edge of a disproportionate panic.  She’d seen nothing.  She craned her neck, searching for the hidden cassette.  Could it have fallen behind the paper clips?  She reached over to move her desk caddy - her hand brushed the coffee cup - Mandy was saying, “Don’t worry, maybe I left it in the machine...” - too late for that, Mandy - the cup was tipping, slowly, inexorably… she saw her stupid plaid skirt, swollen with the bulk of her thick stupid thighs, as the coffee spilled onto the desk, splashed vindictively across the blotter, poured down onto her kilt.  She lept to her feet; too late, too late… Mandy acted concerned, as it it hadn’ t all been her fault, her plan; ran off, saying she was getting a paper towel.... 

She stood and watched the coffee soaking into her papers, puddling around the tapes she’d completed, dribbling off the edge of the desk onto her canvas shoes - once cute, now stained and odious.  She looked down with revulsion at her thighs painted with the warm liquid, as the warmth quickly faded to coolness, to cold.  Her mind was stuck.  ‘Again… I’ve ruined it… nothing works… was doing just fine there… bitch did this on purpose...” She couldn’t move, rigid with disgust and anger.  By the time Mandy got back with a roll of towels, she was gone.  She had taken the photo of her cat and wasn’t planning on returning.