NailBiter

She bit her nail as she sat outside her work, her left leg restlessly shaking. She kept glancing at her phone every five seconds, rereading the text that he had sent her.

“Ok. See you tonight.”

She barely had any nail left to chew as she sat there, her mind racing a million miles a minute.

Ok. See you tonight. But was it okay? Why hadn’t he ended the conversation with I love you or a more enthusiastic Can’t wait to see you! Just an “Okay”. Did he feel just okay about her? Maybe he was going to wait until after they had sex to break up with her because she made him feel just “ok”. Her mind kept moving forward wave after wave of thoughts drowning her. Maybe this is what he did because he had told her last time that he loved her and that he wanted to move in with her but now maybe he backtracked and wanted to go back to his high school sweetheart, even though they’ve both long been out of high school for almost a decade now. But still! What if he thought about his ex every time they were sleeping together and was only dating her because she looked like her! Granted, she thought, I had never seen a picture and he never really talked about who he dated in high school. “God”, she said to herself as she repeatedly flipped over the phone in her lap. I need to stop, she thought, and go back into work. She had barely glanced at the time. Two whole minutes had passed and she sat there, squirming trying to control her leg that wouldn’t stop shaking, when someone from another office building emerged, holding a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. Her eyes were tearing up as she glanced over at this new person. I bet, she thought, he was sent out here to keep an eye on me. I’m sure everyone in the building is pressed up against the glass now, watching me have a break down. God, why am I at work today? I should be at home. She abruptly got up, white knuckles around her phone and briskly walked back to the entrance of the office building.

“I know what you’re doing and  it hasn’t even been five minutes! I’m not just some robot! I’m allowed to take breaks too!” is what she would have shouted at the cigarette smoker, but instead a tiny squeak and a mumble to herself is all that emerged. The smoker didn’t even turn around.

She felt like shouting, like ripping her hair out. She rode the building elevator to the top.

Did they slow this down to so that way when I emerge everyone just stares and looks at me? She thought, as she kept hitting the floor number.

It binged and slowly opened the doors. Instead of everyone stopping and staring at the elevator door and even seeing her emerge, she looked up to find-no one. No one even glancing up or even walking around. Everyone was neatly tucked away in their beige cubicles, working or in a few cases, scrolling through Instagram or Facebook. As she walked past the various rows, she could see everyone’s little Knick knacks and family photos. She finally got to her sparse cubicle.

She had it decorated once, but one night she was staying late, and she noticed that the cleaning lady gave her a smile. She had thought, oh she pities me and my clutter. Granted all she had at the time was a picture of her deceased family dog and one of those plastic solar power plants who bobbed along, but she knew-she KNEW- that the cleaning lady hated her and wished she’d get rid of those things. Now all she had was a calendar pinned to a wall. All the days where blank-she didn’t want anyone to know how many days she spent, laying in bed or on the couch, curled up under a blanket, a hoodie drawn over her face, crying to herself. God I am pathetic, she thought as she took her seat.

As soon as she sat down, a coworker with messy brown hair poked his head around the corner and just said “Hey, boss wants to see you.”

If a sinking cruise ship could come crashing down through the wall and pin her to the depth of the ocean where all those creepy fish with giant teeth would gnaw at her while she was drowning-it couldn’t come fast enough. Or maybe this a game? She felt her breath catch in her throat and she slowly turned around to face the coworker. He was no more than 20, his messy hair covering his face, his wrinkly shirt sloppily buttoned. She nodded and he gave a sheepish grin and a nod before darting off. She still had her phone in one hand, tightly clutched. What was that grin about? Was this a game? God, she thought, using her other hand to smack her forehead as she gritted her teeth. Was this some sort of joke to that little douchbag? And his grin-clearly condescending, clearly a “you’re in for it now” grin! That little shithead! This reminded her of the time at work where she had dyed her hair bright red and everyone had said it was fantastic and she finally felt like her coworkers liked her and then three months had passed and the color was barely still there, but then Meredith-or was it Megan?-from accounting had died her hair a velvet black and she knew-she KNEW-it was to make fun of her, as if to say look how more established and better I am than you. It was as if to say, red hair? Are you a child? Who would dye their hair that color to draw attention to themselves!

She couldn’t go into the bosses office with her head too clouded. She slowly placed her phone behind her computer screen, for no one to see, and told herself, to slow down her breathing. She concentrated on her breathing and caught her breath and counted slowly to breath on rhythm.

One, two, three.

Unclenching her fingers to show her gnawed off fingernails, she slowly rose and walked, with blinders on to the office. She was waiting for someone to pop out and laugh or for someone to play that bugle death march tap as she walked towards her bosses off. But no one did-it was no joke. Or maybe the boss was in on it to?

But why did he want to talk to her? She’d been a decent worker-showing up on time, sometimes working a little late to catch up on some data entry. She kept to herself but it was clear no one in office liked her. Sure they’d invite her out but always to a bar and didn’t they know how much of a light weight she was? Surely it was a jab at that.

The boss’s door was open and she let herself in. His back was turned, his hands clasped behind his back, and he was staring out one of the windows. She stood there awkwardly before clearing her throat. She saw his ears twitch and he turned around.

“Ah yes, Allison, please take a seat.” She nodded and then took a seat, her hands clutching at her long skirt as he closed the door.

The ocean of thoughts flooded over her again as she heard the door click shut behind her.

Am I not staying late enough? Did the numbers not match? Is there errors in my work? Is he on this stupid joke? Wait, is he telling me boyfriend what to text me so that he will break up with me so I can work more? God, he’s going to fire me. Did he see me on my phone?

Her boss leaned back and brought up something on his computer screen. It was a graph. He swiveled the screen around, so that she could see.

“This Allison is a graph of last quarters revenues.” She couldn’t quite make out the numbers or anything specific but some various lines and graphs, blurry to her. She could wear glasses but she didn’t want anyone to know or get more ammunition to make fun of her. “Do you see anything in particular?” She gulped and stared at the computer screen again. Wait was this his way of saying he knew she needed glasses? Maybe he saw her squinting too much at her desk.

After for what felt like an eternity, she quietly said, “There appears to be some numbers, sir.” She doesn’t know why she added “sir”. She felt like a peasant talking to a lord. Might as well start bathing in cabbages to get the right feel of it.

He cleared his throat and smiled. “Ha! Well, those numbers are bigger than last quarters numbers. Our revenue is up!” He pulled the screen back towards him and said, “And while there were a lot of factors, some of your work helped with that!” He smiled and looked at her.

She did not smile back. She just clutched tighter at her skirt and she tried to concentrate on her breathing. When she did not gesture back, he said, “Allison, you’re doing very well and there’s an opening upstairs for one of our major clients. I’d like to recommend you for the position.”

She felt her body float back up from being pinned down, her fingers relaxed, unclenching her skirt.

“Yes? Oh wow, thank you”-she would not add sir-“ I am flattered. But do you really think-“ He cut her off before she could ask anything.

He puffed out his chest and leaned back, smiling even bigger. “Yes, all my best employees get promoted. I’d like to think it’s my gentle hand guiding you but really, it’s all your hard work!” Oh, now she sees-he wants to promote her, so he looks good. So, he can pat himself on the back as if he is the one having to do twice the work (albeit with a pay increase). He didn’t think she could do it-he just wanted to boast so he would get that reward and potentially get a raise for promoting her, and then when she failed everyone would blame it on her and not remember that he was that one that put her there.

He was looking at her for some sort of response and when she didn’t give any, he frowned a little bit and said “Well, take some time to think about it! Just get back to me by end of day tomorrow with your decision.” She gulped and met his eyes, “Thank you. Sorry just a little shocked”

He smiled again and reached out to shake her hand. She did and then got up and left the room, teeth grinding. She walked past her desk and out to the elevator. She needed to go home.

She walked home, nerves too jittery to take the short bus ride. As she rounded the corner, she saw someone hunched over on her stoop, it looked like staring at something in his hand. She slowed her walk and squinted and then, the person looked up, his black hair gelled back and his deep blue eyes staring right at her.

“Allison!” he called out and waved.

She waved back, frowning a little. “Clark….hi..um, hi.” She knew it. He came here to break up with me.

“I was worried, “he said as he jogged closer to her. “You didn’t answer my text.”

The frown on her face deepened. Yeah because you sounded as excited as dried paint to see me. She should say it. No no, Allison, no. He’ll think you’re crazy just like everyone else. She sighed, still frowning as she pushed him aside. “I saw your text. I was busy. At work.”

He looked after her, and then jogged up to walk with her to her stoop. “Yeah, but usually you respond with something. And, and, and I saw you read it!” Damnit, she needed to remember to turn off the read receipts on his phone.

“I just didn’t know if you were mad.” He said meekly, looking down at his feet. “Look, sorry I shouldn’t have come.”

She sighed. She would have thought this was cute a few years ago, but now she was just annoyed.

“You know Clark, I think you just look too much into what I do or don’t do. I don’t know if I can keep seeing someone who is constantly overanalyzing everything I do.” Such a hypocrite, she told herself.

As she unlocked her door, she turned around and gave him a half-hearted smile. “Bye Clark” and then closed the door, loudly locking it behind her. She sank down on the ground, head in her hands, her knees drawn up, as she quietly cried. Hours later, she dragged herself to the couch and curled up under the blanket, hoping that the darkness would hide her from her thoughts.