Diego Sieiro

No More Commuting

 

 

“Today’s gossip must be fierce good”, said Penelope.

 

“Keep quiet Penelope”, Mary whispered. “No more of this at work. We almost got caught the last time.”

 

Mary continues stacking papers for a few seconds, ignoring the shudders doing laps on her spine. She doesn’t dare to lift her eyes for a moment, hoping that Penelope will keep quiet. After all the papers are neatly placed, Mary ventures a quick glance across the room. Rachel is reading one of her magazines, not bothering to conceal it at all.

 

“I can’t believe it. You still care about this place, don’t you? In two years you never skipped a day, working through belly aches and migraines. Has anyone thanked you for it? Of course not. Every Thursday you come wearing that red skirt and blouse. Yet no one gives you a second glance, ever. Within these walls you are invisible; just another average looking secretary”.

 

“No one that appears to be talking to herself is invisible. Shut up!”

 

“You landed this job because of me. I passed the typing test, and went as far as picking the skirt you wore for the interview. You could be a lamb and show some gratitude.”, said Penelope. “Without me, you would last five minutes in this job.”

 

“Miss Thompson couldn’t commend me more in my appearance and composure. I was the best on her office preparation class, she told me more than once.” Said Mary.

 

“You look like a granny with your silly head of artichoke. The woman clearly took pity on you, that’s the only reason she said anything nice at all,” said Penelope. “I told you to ask for the bouffant style last time at the hairdressers. You never listen.”

 

Mary yanked off the half typed letter from the roll of the machine, crumpling it and squishing it as hard as her hands allowed. Rachel didn’t bother lifting her gaze from the magazine, the latest antics of Liz Taylor were engrossing, plus there was nothing new to see: Mary messed up letters all the time, muttering as she ripped up sheets of paper. Half of the time she would get a cut on one of her chunky fingers and curse as loud as a sailor.

 

“I do listen. You know it Pe, you know it well.” Said Mary. Her finger throbbed from the cut. Unwittingly Mary placed it in her mouth, in an effort to suck off the pain. “I am just nervous, Pe. Nothing more than that. She is our friend after all.”

         

“Our friend? Did you cut your finger or hit your head?  She only talks to you because there is no one else in the room. On the street, that girl would not give you the time of the day.”

 

Mary pulled out her finger and stared at it. The tip was wrinkled, and a shade paler. From the cut blood appeared. She could feel Penelope gawking at her, awaiting an answer.

 

“She pulled her weight this year, she earned her bonus. She works hard. We all do.”

 

“We all do; we are all winners. That commie talk won us no wars. Stop pretending to be a naïve sweet girl. That’s Rachel’s thing.”  A drop of blood splashed against the space bar.  “Great, now that’s sticky.”

 

“Rachel is just like the rest of us. She knows her work and is considerate of others.” Said Mary.

 

“She knows her job? She knows her gossip you mean. Chatting to her girlie friends about flicker movies is her only area of expertise. Almost daily she messes up, and you end up staying late, fixing her fuck ups. But when it is time to return the favor, something other has her engaged—battling a hangover, or lack of sleep. Of course afterwards she gets all the perks of working for the big boss. All goes her way just because she is gorgeous.”

 

The wooden chair screeched. Mary had not realized that she had been rocking, finger to her mouth, left hand to her right shoulder. Startled she looked at Rachel, she was staring right at her. A look of derision floated on her eyes. She faked one of her beautiful smiles, and got back to her magazines. It was not the first time theatrics took place at the office—once

Mary even fell to the floor. Rachel had not told on her, because Mary was real good at helping her. Louise and Cat on the other hand, Rachel kept them up to date with Mary’s latest antics. It was their little secret and they would laugh about the whacky lassie, as Louise called her, until the coffee was cold.

 

“I am pretty too. If I wasn’t Fred on the train…”

 

“That pervert? A desperate eye-sore of a man, in the most successful of times. He weights double on the loser scale.”

 

“Perhaps he falls in the bothersome category. After all, he talks in excess and rubs against my legs—like a heavyset lapdog that wears a fedora.” Said Mary. “Since the day I was late for work, when I left in a hurry without closing the top button of my cardigan, each time we are on the train I can feel his eyes on me: up and down, pause at my calves just to go up again.”

 

“Well girl, he’s the best you got going at this moment.” said Penelope.

 

“He is nothing of mine. I am my own girl.”

 

“You are indeed, my dear.” Said Penelope. “Alas, you could be so much more, pet. If only you took that small step. Right away, these days of uncomfortable travel would finish.”

 

“No more commuting with those family men, stinking the place up with their cigarette smoke. Using their massive newspapers to conceal their crooked smiles, and the smacking of their lips; Believing I am oblivious to them staring at my chest.”

 

“After all these years of hard work, you could afford an apartment in the city.” Said Penelope.

 

“No more waking up half-frozen before dawn, after a night spent coughing.” Said Mary.

 

“Smoking is not for you Mary dear.” Said Penelope. “You are a quitter in so many things, might as well quit them smokes.”

 

“Even if I spit my lungs out, I will not be less than the men.”

 

“Why would you like to be like those scumbags? They backstab each other all the time.” Said Penelope.

 

“The boss here cheats on the wifey more than the rain hits the pavement. Month in and month out, he searches for ways to shortchange costumers and pockets the difference. Yet he fired Lucy for borrowing once from the small change box.”

 

“Lucy needed the money for her child’s treatment.” Said Mary. “She took a few bucks from the booze emergency fund. She would’ve returned it all, right after she got paid.”

 

“Lucy was our only friend in this place. Rachel on the other hand, never was and never will be.”

 

“Poor Lucy…” said Mary out loud.

 

“Mary are you alright?” said Rachel. “You are weirder that usual.”

 

“Oh,” gasped Mary. She paused, realizing that Rachel considered her an oddball. “I am fine, thank you.” Doing her best to stop her hands from shaking, Mary lit a cigarette.

 

“Get a chamomile tea, hun. It works wonders on me.” Said Rachel

 

“Smoking is my chamomile, Rachel.” Said Mary. “All is fine, thanks.” The drawer slid with difficulty, scrapping its edges.

Mary pulled out an ashtray. She dropped ash on it without lifting her gaze.

 

“Whatever floats your boat, luv. I am going to get me a drink. Is it ok with you?” said Rachel.

 

“Of course…”

 

“Thanks Dollie, you are the best. If my extension rings, please answer it. See you now.” said Rachel.

 

Before Mary could reply the other girl had left the room. Walking with such grace that she seemed to float away from Mary, her squeaky desk and the voices in her head.

 

“That girl pretty much only tolerates you. How many more times will she call you weird before you notice? Any day now, she rats on you,” said Penelope. “The moment pretty girl needs to earn points with the boss, you’ll get the Lucy treatment.”

 

“Rachel has no idea. Lucy kept it on the low-low.” said Mary.

 

“The little princess does know. At least once she saw you sneaking half empty bottles into your purse.”

 

“She hasn’t seen squat and remains unaware. Last time we did it was ages ago. These days I drink almost nothing. There are too many bottles on the table, the boss won’t miss one or two. Rachel is unaware as well, she pays attention to magazines and movies, not to what goes on here. Even if she noticed, it is not convenient for her to tell on me. She can’t do her job on her own.” Said Mary. “Rachel has it good here. Doing very little and getting massive bonuses.”

 

“Payouts are not happening, there is another war on the horizon. Only the exceptional workers are to see any extra money.”

 

“Then Rachel might not get the money.” Said Mary. “The boss knows I do most of the work.”

 

“The only thing she does well is the coffee; and arranging for the boss to see his ginger friend.” Said Penelope. “No real need to keep her around, when things are tough and the budget is tight.”

 

“I can take on those chores for the boss. I am really good at keeping secrets. Am I not, Penelope?”

 

“Of course you are, dove. That bonus is landing on your lap this year. For two years in a row, only Rachel got the money. It is your time now, but you have to get the ball moving. A quick ring to the good auld wifey and we are sorted.”

 

“The boss would think Rachel messed up and called his wife; citing her at the restaurant where the mistress waited. She would be fired.” Said Mary.

 

“Yours would be the job and the higher pay.”

 

“Finally I could afford a small apartment in the city.” Said Mary.

 

“No more eyes burning your skin on that wagon. No more hands bumping into you by accident.”

 

“On the weekends I could take strolls at the park.” Said Mary.

 

“You could do as you pleased! Said Penelope. The changes would happen soon. The official gal might feel her honor barred, no option left but to leave the boss to retain her dignity.  The ginger mistress might get herself another Businessman, especially after the show Wifey would put on at the restaurant. Short term, there would be a spot opening for the attentions of the boss. My dear, do take this chance to move up in life. I know how you look at the boss.”

 

“Power makes him attractive.” Said Mary.

 

“It does indeed. I can barely notice his overweight, and lately he even looks less bald.”

 

“Life would be swell. Yet something is bothering me. Rachel smiled all morning. Pe, you reckon the boss and…?”

 

“The boss and Rachel? Nah, can’t see the fit. Dumbarella is too dull for him.” Said Penelope.

 

“Just in case, though, we are telling on her. We don’t want to miss out, do we? It is what people do these days, no matter what, they advance their careers. These are the times to climb up the ladder of success.”

 

Rachel comes back giggling. Laughter from her friends echoes from the corridor. Nonchalantly the young girl stares at Mary and covers her mouth, suppressing a chuckle.

 

“How is everything hun? Rachel says still shaking. She sits down on the comfortable padded chair, kicking her shoes under her desk. “Did my buzzer ring as I was away?”

 

“No, it was real calm and quiet…”

 

The sharp ring of the buzzer pauses the conversation. Rachel picks up the phone, listens for a second and nods agreement.

From the middle drawer to her right she takes out a note pad. Her knee pushes against the metal, silently closing the compartment.  In what appears as one movement she spins her chair, stands up, straightens her skirt and leaves her desk.

She smiles just before entering the boss’ office.

 

“This is our chance, quickly, go to her desk and make the call.”

 

“But…”

 

“Don’t hesitate girl, get at it.” Says Penelope.

 

Mary bolts from her spot. Lurching on her way to Rachel’s desk. The diary lays on top of the table, open on today’s date.

This will take but a moment, thinks Mary. Before any self-doubt can arise, Penelope reminds her what’s at stake.

 

“Good afternoon Mrs. Sanders. This is Rachel calling from the office.” Says Mary. The lady on the other side of the line automatically expels a litany of fake pleasantries. Words used over many years with all secretaries before her. It comes as no surprise that the good wife can’t tell Mary from Rachel. “I am calling to remind you about tonight’s dinner with your husband.”

 

“No, not the usual spot. A new place on the square, called Bellisimo’s.” Says Mary. “Seven thirty at the table. He is going straight after a meeting, so he won’t make it to appetizer at the bar.”

 

Mary nods automatically as dress suggestions are given in a squeaky voice. As it is her custom, she blanks out the details about jewels and fine garments. 

 

“I am sure he would love that.” Says Mary. A bit more of nodding, and the conversation ends. “Have a lovely evening Mrs. Sanders.”

 

The phone lands on the cradle. Rachel’s agreeable voice can be heard behind the door. She giggles as the door opens, that gives Mary the three seconds required to regain her seat.

 

“I can’t believe that I did it.”

 

“That’s my girl!” said Penelope. “I’d love to see the scene the wife makes, when she crashes the romantic dinner.”

 

“I am all giddy.”

 

The buzzer rings again. Mary is surprised. The boss never calls twice in the same morning, let alone the same hour.

 

“I will tell her right away.” Says Rachel. “Mary, the boss wants to see you.”

 

The meeting with the boss is brief—He knows. Penelope blames Rachel, as shock stops Mary from denying the charges. A bottle was found in her purse this morning—that second cup of coffee was not a great idea. A close look at the accounts revealed tampering of the petty cash fund. The purchase ledger showed an extra bottle being bought per week for the last eight months.

 

The boss recommends getting help, his voice stern. Mary gets the money for the week, alongside the instruction to never come back.

 

Mary closes the door behind her. Rachel doesn’t lift her gaze from the diary.

 

“That harpy set us up.” Says Penelope. “Now she gets the bonus money for saving the company our wages.”

 

Mary scurries to her desk. Her left hand lands on the cold table, stabilizing a lurch. The high heels ever the nuisance. The desk is bare of personal possessions, as befit a dedicated worker. Leaving empty handed feels bad, so she steals a wee pencil—sharpened almost into non-existence. Mary grabs her bag and clutching the small graphite walks away. Rachel remains silent, staring into an empty diary page.

 

Concepta intercepts Mary at reception, grabbing her by the arm. “Sweetheart, I heard.” She says. “I am so very sorry.”

 

“Thank you, Concepta, but I was to blame.” Says Mary.

 

“Don’t be silly. That Rachel cow is the culprit. Management forced your boss to get rid of one secretary. Rachel heard about it and began sleeping with him.”

 

“Color me surprised” says Penelope.

 

“Oh dear, what happened to your voice?” Said Concepta. “Are you alright, pet?”

 

“I will be fine.” Says Mary. A grin appears on her face. “I will be fine.”

 

Baffled by the sudden manic look on the girl, Concepta releases her arm. The girl took badly to her firing.

 

The elevator door closes, inside it Penelope smirks. “I feel like Italian food tonight. Dearest Mary, let’s check out Bellisimo’s. Tonight they are having food and quite the show.”

 

 

Diego Sieiro writes from Ireland.