hace con su vida un papalote y lo echa a volar.”
We each make a kite of life and fly it as we will.
When I arrive at my desk
that morning, I’m swimming in unadulterated joy that Robert is nowhere in
sight. I’m feeling like the cream without the bland Oreo cookie, the cherry on
top of the banana split, the German Chocolate frosting without the doughy
chocolate cake—until I see a clutch of documents sitting on my chair.
On top is an envelope affixed with a yellow post-it note that reads:
Caroline,
Make four copies of these documents and messenger them to Judge
Schwarzer. Then hand-deliver the envelope to the address on the label. Afterwards,
you’ll have to accompany me to the client meeting at noon. Bring the Rowland
file and extra lined paper to take notes. I’ll pick you up in the town car at
11:30.
-Robert
Two things are very wrong with this note. First, Robert never leaves documents on my chair, always on my desk, right in front of my computer.
So why change his usual procedure now, after two years? Second, Robert has
never—not even once—signed his name on the instructions he gives me. I work only
for him, so who else would leave me post-it instructions? I’m quite familiar
with his handwriting, so it’s not as if signing is name is necessary. And why
the little dash before his name? What is that about?
I hold the post-it in my hand and examine it as if I’m reading
hieroglyphics and expect the note to provide the translation.
Next, I strike out toward the copy room, where I stand in front of
the copier, a solitary madwoman. Thinking about the note, I gaze at the white
wall in front of me while the copy machine zigzags and flashes light like a
dying star. After shoving the documents in an envelope, I phone a bicycle
messenger. He soon arrives dripping at my desk, and I hand him the package. While
he sprints off toward the elevator, Todd glides in wearing a smart-looking trench
coat. His wet hair appears purposefully slicked back and drippy, like Elvis’s hair
on a rainy day. He glances both ways and then crosses over to my desk.
Leaning over my cubicle wall, he says, “What the hell happened to
you last night? One minute you’re sitting at the table looking bored as a shed
in a field and the next you and Robert are gone. Did you seduce him with those
little man boobs of yours?” he teases.
“Shut up!” I quietly thunder. “Someone will hear you.” I notice
that the darkened offices are now firing to life. “You’re going to have to wait
for the long version. I’ve got to deliver something for Robert and then he’s
picking me up for a client meeting at 11:30. I won’t even be able to go to
lunch with you guys today. But Cory can fill you in. He’s got the basic details.
Just make sure nobody hears you all chatting at the food court. You’re like a
bunch of middle school girls sometimes, I swear.”
“Oh, goodie. Details!” He quietly claps his hands. “And remind me
to tell you later about that intern on the 27 th floor. You
know the blond one who wears the nice hair gel?” Todd whispers wide-eyed to me.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I found out very specifically which brand of hair gel he
wears,” Todd says, giving me a knowing look.
“You didn’t!”
“Oh, but I did. I so very did. It was a good hair gel too.”
I smile at Todd for scoring yet another cute intern. I wouldn’t be
surprised if Todd somehow wrangled a straight intern into crossing over to the light
side. He has that androgynous supermodel way about him that both gay and
straight men find attractive.
“See you later then,” I say, giving him a congratulatory nod. “You
look good in that trench coat by the way.”
He tosses a bluffing smile while I don my raincoat and trundle
toward the elevator to make my delivery.
The address is located only five blocks away, but it’s still five
blocks in torrential rain. All I can think is that I hope what’s in this
envelope is important. Secret government
We each make a kite of life and fly it as we will.
When I arrive at my desk
that morning, I’m swimming in unadulterated joy that Robert is nowhere in
sight. I’m feeling like the cream without the bland Oreo cookie, the cherry on
top of the banana split, the German Chocolate frosting without the doughy
chocolate cake—until I see a clutch of documents sitting on my chair.
On top is an envelope affixed with a yellow post-it note that reads:
Caroline,
Make four copies of these documents and messenger them to Judge
Schwarzer. Then hand-deliver the envelope to the address on the label. Afterwards,
you’ll have to accompany me to the client meeting at noon. Bring the Rowland
file and extra lined paper to take notes. I’ll pick you up in the town car at
11:30.
-Robert
Two things are very wrong with this note. First, Robert never leaves documents on my chair, always on my desk, right in front of my computer.
So why change his usual procedure now, after two years? Second, Robert has
never—not even once—signed his name on the instructions he gives me. I work only
for him, so who else would leave me post-it instructions? I’m quite familiar
with his handwriting, so it’s not as if signing is name is necessary. And why
the little dash before his name? What is that about?
I hold the post-it in my hand and examine it as if I’m reading
hieroglyphics and expect the note to provide the translation.
Next, I strike out toward the copy room, where I stand in front of
the copier, a solitary madwoman. Thinking about the note, I gaze at the white
wall in front of me while the copy machine zigzags and flashes light like a
dying star. After shoving the documents in an envelope, I phone a bicycle
messenger. He soon arrives dripping at my desk, and I hand him the package. While
he sprints off toward the elevator, Todd glides in wearing a smart-looking trench
coat. His wet hair appears purposefully slicked back and drippy, like Elvis’s hair
on a rainy day. He glances both ways and then crosses over to my desk.
Leaning over my cubicle wall, he says, “What the hell happened to
you last night? One minute you’re sitting at the table looking bored as a shed
in a field and the next you and Robert are gone. Did you seduce him with those
little man boobs of yours?” he teases.
“Shut up!” I quietly thunder. “Someone will hear you.” I notice
that the darkened offices are now firing to life. “You’re going to have to wait
for the long version. I’ve got to deliver something for Robert and then he’s
picking me up for a client meeting at 11:30. I won’t even be able to go to
lunch with you guys today. But Cory can fill you in. He’s got the basic details.
Just make sure nobody hears you all chatting at the food court. You’re like a
bunch of middle school girls sometimes, I swear.”
“Oh, goodie. Details!” He quietly claps his hands. “And remind me
to tell you later about that intern on the 27 th floor. You
know the blond one who wears the nice hair gel?” Todd whispers wide-eyed to me.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I found out very specifically which brand of hair gel he
wears,” Todd says, giving me a knowing look.
“You didn’t!”
“Oh, but I did. I so very did. It was a good hair gel too.”
I smile at Todd for scoring yet another cute intern. I wouldn’t be
surprised if Todd somehow wrangled a straight intern into crossing over to the light
side. He has that androgynous supermodel way about him that both gay and
straight men find attractive.
“See you later then,” I say, giving him a congratulatory nod. “You
look good in that trench coat by the way.”
He tosses a bluffing smile while I don my raincoat and trundle
toward the elevator to make my delivery.
The address is located only five blocks away, but it’s still five
blocks in torrential rain. All I can think is that I hope what’s in this
envelope is important. Secret government
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