Who, or What, Exactly is Going On?

I walked into the office meeting with the seven black swivel chairs, I guess, framing the elongated coffee-stained, pencil-marked, permanent marker-smeared table open for all business meetings to go smoothly. Maybe as smoothly as the table itself. I don’t know…

After cleaning my apartment this morning, I didn’t want to look at coffee stains, pencil marks, permanent marker smears or papers shredded and coughed up all over the place. However, I would. Because I can’t escape the dirtiness of such a place. Just like I can’t escape the cleaning job my neat but small apartment room forces me to tackle every day of my young thirty-five-year-old life. Maintaining the dusty, smelly curtains that just meanly spits dust in my face whenever I spank it—  

I laughed.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?”

I spun right around on a heel. “Yes?” The question, or answer—whatever it was—stammered out before I could catch it. It would've been easier to catch a cold than my nervous attitude right now.

“Uh…could you please clean this room?” He wiggled a nonchalant finger around the room after opening the door like he would his front door for work. “Oh—” He straightened up, a haughty facial expression leering at a sighing me. “And Carry Veronica is going to start the meeting with us.”   

“What—”

But the door had banged shut before I had even begun to really open my mouth. I slapped it shut, silently fuming. I forced myself to unstick my feet from the ugly grey carpet that was the stickily dirty floor. Why is that when I come into this place, it’s as if I were back home? I balled my fists, headed right for the door and right towards that guy. Spying him up ahead in front of the large tile-floored hallway’s big glass windows and several armless chairs, I marched up to him. I jabbed his shoulder, but he circled around on a heel, taking his time.    

“Yes?” He complained as I glared at him. Then a smirk played on his lips. “What do you want?”

“For you to not just barge in the room and tell me what to do. If you want the table to be cleaned, then you need to clean it!” I crossed my burgundy sweater arms and arched my eyebrows, expecting the right answer this time. The guy looked at the other tuxedo-laden men and skirt and blouse-dressed women all squinting and darting their eyes inferiorly from him to me. He jerked his chin up, smiling while looking balefully at them all, and commanded to them to leave him. They did, mutters and agreements bringing them into a retreating group of black, starch white, pale yellow and ugly turquoise. Then he swiveled his head around and cocked it. “What do you want?”   

“I want you to clean the table.” I spread my arms. “I’m not doing it. I thought we were here—”

The guy whipped his head from side to side. “You can’t say anything.” Then he leaned in like we were best friends in school and hissed, “It’s a secret society.”

“I’m aware.” I looked at him like he should know I know. “But I need you to stop telling me what to do.”      

“Uh…” He chuckled, shaking his head like I didn’t know what I was talking about. “No. I just asked you. I—”

“You know what?” I stomped towards the double glass doors, slamming my hands down on the silver latch. “I’m going.”

“You—”

Just then, a voice emerged into the large tiled room, whispering loudly. I whipped my head and then spun totally around as a medium-tall woman in a violet overcoat with bronze shiny buttons and expensive black suit pants beckoned people to circle around her. Pinching my eyebrows, I left the door to stand beside some taller women.  

“Are you…” Then I thought to just observe, and shouldered my way more into the stiff silence. The woman glanced at me a moment and then just looked at everyone else. “We will proceed.” Ushering some outsiders away, she demanded the group hurry forwards. Remaining right behind black suit jackets and long cotton shirts, I glued my eyes to the long-haired hazel-haired woman. Probably feeling my gaze, she shuffled along beside the guy, admonishing everyone else for not hurrying up fast enough. “Yes, ma’am!” and “Okay, Carry!” echoed a little throughout the next hallway as we passed rows of bland grey office cubicles and then finally entered a little open space directly across from the custodian closet.         

“Here we are!” This woman trilled, like we didn’t understand where we were although all of us were heading in the same direction. The door yawning open, we all flooded into the place, the swivel chairs being filled by the suit jackets and long shirts. Some of the women faced forward and a couple men leaned in and clasped his hands as the woman swept past the right row and poised, hands folded, at the front. She smiled at the person directly opposite me and pushed her chair out of the way. Then she looked at me a minute. I started sweating, and scratched my straightened auburn hair, flicking my eyes towards and then away from her.

“Everyone.” She asserted, but I still felt her gaze on my hot face, “We must proceed.”

I felt another pair of eyes on me. I jerked my eyes over. It was him. He was looking at me like I had never been here before. No, like I didn’t even know what a business meeting enclosed in glass windows with glass doors shutting us in forever was like. As if “Get the cleaning done” wasn’t enough. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

But I couldn’t—

“Please, Lyon, pay attention.”

As if she had to make my face go totally my hair color. Everyone’s eyes glued onto mine, I strived hard not to curl into a tight ball and rock back and forth, muttering, “Please look elsewhere.” But I looked right at her and grinned. “Yes?”

“Pay attention.” She glared at me some more and then continued, her presence suffocating the very joy of being around people. I shivered—I even felt her expecting me to explain all her questions—the secrecy of the very room we were in, the fact that we couldn’t tell anyone about this meeting, the very name of it. But maybe I could secretly know all about this meeting.

“Please, Lyon. Come up here and wow the crowd by continuing this meeting.” The woman stepped aside as I stood up, ignoring everyone’s looks—and the guy’s glares. Scuffling along behind the left row, my covered hand wiped the beaded sweat from my temple and forehead, and I gulped. I tried to decrease my height so no one could see me. When I finally made it to the front of the room, the girl with the swivel chair grinning wide and fake. I grimaced and threw up a covered hand. She returned it, a sparkle in her eye. I jerked a nod and eyed the rest of the room.      

“Okay,” I exhaled a shaky sigh, “I’m here to tell you what…” I turned my ducked head towards the woman. She half-closed her eyes, spread a smirk and raised her thin eyebrows.

“Um…” I chuckled, my cheeks burning. My grin only emitting dry chuckles and an annoyed cough from some of the sitters, I slid my eyes to the girl in the swivel chair. She gritted her teeth and shook her head. I braved the tiniest of nods and proceeded, thinking fast.  

“Well,” the woman spoke up, “If Lyon can’t care, should we proceed?” She was about to take her raised palms as if to push me out of the way, too, but I remembered her name.

“Ms. Carry—”

“Ms. Veronica.” The guy murmured, and he exchanged mean glances with someone sitting opposite him, and they smothered their hysteria. I tried to overcome such ignorance, but I was shaking. My palms moistened even more at the very thought of speaking up to a group of people I didn’t know, regardless the group size. Worse, I stood before a jerk and his mean boss. Or whoever she was. I fiddled with the hem of my ugly sweatshirt when the woman called out that I couldn’t announce her news.

Immediately, I clenched my hands and talked, loud and clear, all about Ms. Veronica’s speech. Throughout the whole announcement, I secretly enjoyed the guy’s staring at the stained table that made me actually spread my hands and whip the stringed hair away from my formerly embarrassed face. Once I had touched on her last part, I grinned at her reaction. Her mouth hung open so her red lips were opposite each other, thin eyebrows raised high above her mascaraed blue eyes and her hands came apart and then balled up again and again. She pursed her lips, but then snapped at me.

“You didn’t see anything!” She fixated her incensed eyes right on my blotching face and continued the lecture.

When I stumbled back to my seat and collapsed into the swivel chair, I felt my presence—and my countenance as a person—dissipate like a balloon slowly being freed of air. I curled myself up and only caught, “she’ll have to work on how to give a speech one day” as I swallowed again and hugged my legs tighter, switching mentally to my cat. She usually sits there so, waiting and twitching her tail, it moving back and forth like a metronome’s golden circle swinging left to right. She’ll know what to do—hiss at and scratch Ms. Veronica. Cally will help me.         

I brought myself back to reality and looked at Ms. Veronica. Or Carry. I’m not twelve anymore. I can call her by her name. But she wasn’t really interested in me, I knew. She kept up her superior attitude, narrowing her eyes at me and then beaming at everyone else. I jumped when she commanded, “Do you know what I just said?”    

I pursed my lips and then admitted, looking her full in the face. “No.” An embarrassed cough made its way throughout the room. I knew it was from the guy. He was just trying to cover up for his stupid mockery.  

“Well, since you can’t seem to follow our little group, you’ll just have to stay after and make this place cleaner.” She waltzed around the room, but I focused on my pretty leather sandals. They crisscrossed—like my mind today. If only everything went as smoothly as Carry’s speech—     

“Well.” Carry jolted me out of my own little world. When I looked behind me, she had her arms raised and her palms outwards towards the ceiling. The sky was the limit when it came to her and her decisions. “We’re done.” Everyone’s chairs, I heard, immediately creaked and squeaked. After I watched everyone exit, discussing Carry’s amazing proposal to the events everyone else but me was holding next week, I dropped from my seat. I saw the second to last jacket disappear through the cubicle area towards the big hallway where clacks of heels and soft poundings of men’s work shoes departed the building. The guy’s loud voice causing Carry to laugh and agree oh so quickly made me come pretty close to balling my fists. She didn’t deserve to be leader. I did! Even if it were a secret society. Even if no one would know me but my own group. I sighed. Or would they? Did they?

Should they?

I trudged off towards the custodian room, knocking my way through the door and then banging the other door open. No sooner had I slapped the sponge down onto the disgusting table than I scrubbed away. But I smiled as the swishing sound of the water-clogged rectangle distracted me from my angry thoughts. Rags soon dried the table, and a vacuum’s greed for nastiness along the baseboards and carpet at least reminded me of Cally’s meowing at the fireflies. I looked around. The place was empty—at least physically. Cubicle lights had already been turned out and doors were whining open and then banged shut. I was alone with my soap and water. But I didn’t sing.      

I wanted to prove myself. Cleaning was a specialty, but it wasn’t going to prevent me from getting totally removed from this secret society. I didn’t want Carry to step all over me, nor her to promote the guy and them to completely team up. Ironically, I was the one with the knowledge of Carry’s intellect—meaning I knew what she was doing. But I was at the bottom of the ladder, with no one to help me up. So why was the smart one the last one?   

I scoured once more and then put all cleaning supplies away. I emptied and rinsed the second bucket, placing it back on its hook and the other things in the corner of the tiny, cramped, equipment populated jail cell of a closet. But I emerged ready to go back home. To tell Cally all that I had done. And seen and heard and known.     

And what awaits me the next day.

“Smells like Lysol, Lyon. Thought it would be Dust Polish. You know, since you could’ve made the place clean enough to let everyone know you even did the toilet.”  

The guy snickered rudely, and Carry rounded the room like she owned the place. Once everyone had settled into their seats, me at the back, she clapped once and someone got up to work the projector. It ran for some time as she outlined the slides preparing everyone—but me—for next week’s big project. The slide shows never ended, for Carry’s hand just kept pointing to one incomprehensibly detailed picture after another on each slide. Someone yawned, but they jerked their hand down and sat up straight when she turned around and began elaborating on the whole second half of the deal. Soon, the projector hummed off and everyone bent in and chattered about what they would like to do. When I peered up at Carry, disappointment must be her favorite facial expression—she wore a strained smile the whole time she watched me and only flicked her eyes towards the employee with a strand of hair coming down in front of her face. When she caught Carry’s frustrated stare, she whipped her hand up and the hair went back on her head.  

Sooner than the power point slides were done was the meeting over. I again trudged back to the custodian closet, but instead of clean again, I left everything here. I then drove home, curled up on the flowered, fluffy couch with the purring Norwegian Forest before pulling the chestnut side table’s lamp string to light the tiny family room and answered my vibrating iPhone.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you clean?”

I jerked the phone away and stared at it, wary. How did Carry know my number?

“I didn’t want to. I just left.”

“Please do as told.” Click.

I copied her, jamming the red phone icon button twice and threw the phone, it clattering onto the table. I flipped on some TV, but Cally meowed and pawed my cheek, actually scratching it a little.

“Okay!” I admitted, and snapped it off. Stroking a contented, purring Cally in my lap, I blinked at the grey stucco ceiling. This woman may act like my wicked stepmother, but I knew deep down that I was more than just an outsider. I believed I was made to stand up in front of everyone and tell them the truth—the real truth. Not the Carry-intimidates-me-into-believing-I’m-nobody crap. The real Lyon-is-more-than-a-cleaning-person truth.  

As I got into pajamas and told Cally I was going to prove myself tomorrow, all I heard was a soft meow and then saw an adamant headshake. “Yeah,” I sighed, pulling the chain so darkness wrapped around us once more and then curling up in my bed. “Hopefully.”  

“Lyon—”

“Yes, Carry. I would like to have a couple of words today.”

The woman stared at me but then proceeded to head towards the front of the room. Standing opposite a sitting audience, she asked if anyone had questions. I raised my hand.

“Why is this society so secret if we’re in a glass-encased room?” I stood up straight as a pole and folded my jacketed arms. “Why am I left out? Why can’t I join?” Carry put up a nail but I continued. “If I can answer a question, then I can lead this group. I’ve done it before—”  

“Yeah!” The woman with the dangling string of hair nodded her head, and some others agreed as well.

“And I can do it again.” I strutted right up to the front and told the same person to get the power point going. As I explained the project from first slide to ending, Carry suddenly shoved me aside and the guy pointed out I had no knowledge of her secret weapon: promotions.

“And,” she continued, leering at me while I squinted back at her, “if you continue, I’ll have to remove you completely from our group.” Go figure out why this group is a secret one. Her real answer bored into me like nail drilled right into the poor wood, planking it down resolutely. I studied her and then plopped myself down onto my seat, confidently this time.  

“Yes, ma’am!”

My eyes traveled to the girl with the stringed hair, hoping she’d at least move three seats over and whisper with me. She nodded, a small smile encouraging me. I didn’t want timidity. I desired teamwork. Ironic that this place held a meeting, yet no one was willing to help me.

So they didn’t know me.   

Whatever.