And Then She Was Gone(7)

She shut down her computer and sighed as she studied the framed picture on her desk: her and Michael honeymooning on a beach in the Bahamas. Had it really been seven years already? A wave of emotions washed over her. Everything was changing so fast. New house, new job, and now… she gently laid a hand on her stomach. “It keeps getting better,” she whispered. “My little miracle.”

She grabbed her favorite tan handbag off the floor, and realized it was damp. She sniffed and smelt the pungent scent of carpet cleaner.

“Darn it.”

On her way out, she passed by her coworkers’ cubicles, filled with photos of happy families, smiling kids, and hugging couples. She was starting to know her new coworkers, and the more she did, the fonder of them she became.

A shudder ran through Stacy’s body, but not because she was cold. The air conditioner had already turned off for the evening, and the heat of summer had quickly warmed the office. No, it was the thought of the silence, the cold stillness, she faced at home without Michael that made her wince. She had grown up a latchkey kid, in a quiet house with no brothers or sisters, and parents who were always gone. But instead of conditioning her to enjoy being alone, the experience had done the opposite. She hated being alone.

An industrial vacuum cleaner that looked like a small Zamboni rounded the corner up ahead. At first, the burly custodian kept his eyes focused on the area in front of the machine as he pushed it down the hallway, but then he noticed her and switched the vacuum off.

“Hello, Mrs. Shaw.” His eyes darted all around the office, never meeting hers.

“Hi, Jeremy.” She always tried her best to make polite conversation with Jeremy; he had few friends but he was a sweet young man. She spoke carefully so the mentally challenged man would understand her. “You’re working late.”

“Like you.” Jeremy smiled lopsidedly. He spoke deliberately, but his speech was slurred and hard to understand. He wiped his hand on his coveralls. “It’s not raining out.”

She nodded. Even though Jeremy towered over her, she wasn’t frightened. “Jeremy, did you clean my carpet again last night?”

His eyes brightened. “You saw?”

“Yes. But… didn’t you just clean it on Monday?”

“I cleaned your office extra.” Jeremy looked at the ceiling. “You like it? It smells nice?”

Stacy sighed. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Yes. But next time maybe you can just vacuum?”

“Okay. T’ank you. I’ll do that.”

“Well, have a nice night, Jeremy.”

Jeremy awkwardly offered his hand to shake. As she shook it, she struggled not to recoil at the touch of his rough, callused skin.

“See you tomorrow,” Jeremy said.

“Good night.”

Jeremy watched her until she disappeared through the door. Then she heard the vacuum cleaner turn back on.

Outside, the warm, moist summer night air felt wonderful on Stacy’s face. The sun had set, and faint stars peeked out from behind dark clouds that were rolling in. Away from the office, Stacy felt free. She wanted nothing more than to discard her heels, take off her bra, slip into one of her husband’s t-shirts, and curl up on the couch with a pint of ice cream.

A voice behind her made her jump.

“Is the job making you crazy yet?”

Stacy’s hand flew to her chest.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Betty Robinson snuffed out her cigarette with her heel and walked over. “Did Mr. Happy Pants chain you to the desk, or are you working late, fixing one of his mistakes that he’s blaming you for?”

Stacy chuckled. “Chased me around the desk would be more accurate.”

Betty was on the north side of fifty and seemed as though she’d probably had the same tough exterior since college. She was tall for a woman, and her heels made her even more imposing. When they first met, Stacy wondered why Betty wore outfits that drew attention to her thick, broad frame—but after she came to know her, she realized that Betty liked to be intimidating.

“You haven’t asked any questions for a few days,” Betty said. “Does that mean the torch has been passed?”

“Hardly,” Stacy said. “I think it’ll take me another three months to get the hang of everything you did. How’s upstairs?”

“Living the dream.” Betty smiled coyly. “Make sure you keep up on the Henkle filing or the end of the summer will be killer for you.”

“I will.” Stacy cleared her throat. “Hey, did you work on the Right-A-Way Shipping report for Mr. Chambers?”

Betty took out a cigarette. “I still work on it. Don’t tell me something’s wrong with the report or I’ll scream.”