The Envelope

Everybody rushed around the office.

Yes, it’s done. Tomorrow we celebrate with pizza. We’ve completed the assignment and we’re recommending fluorescent paint as a reminder of radiation.

Shut up! said the secretary.

No. Look at the screen. Rose clicked the mouse and revealed a picture-pefect housing development and office building in glow-in-the-dark colors.

The secretary laughed. She laughed at all their jokes. She was probably thinking about stopping at the store to buy cold beer or going home to paste wallpaper borders on her walls.

The secretary was mysterious. The architects joked that she ran the office and made more money than anyone else. The truth? They didn’t have a clue what she did. She came in late--no one dared say a word about it--and she jabbered on the phone to friends while typing furiously on the computer. What was she typing? Nobody knew. Nobody dared ask her to type anything. Everybody typed his or her own letters. They could only assume that she had word-processing assignments from “higher up.”

Or maybe she’s just been here so long that she automatically collects a salary, one of the architects suggested snottily.

Rose rather hoped the administrative assistant got paid for being personable. Nobody else at the office had social skills. Once or twice Rose had seen her working on spreadsheets and databases. The administrative assistant was apparently able to talk on the phone and make graphs at the same time.

The two women walked out together.

You know the best thing about the end of the day? The mail, Rose said.

You’re kidding. I give mine to my husband. I make him pay the bills. I open enough mail at the office, said the secretary.

That must be a bore, Rose said. Then she opened her umbrella and walked the quarter mile home in the rain.

She let Binkie out into the back yard. Woof woof. He chased a squirrel. She stood at the kitchen table and flipped through the mail. Two catalogues, a letter from a Congressman, a magazine, and a package from Alibris. Rose ripped open the padded envelope and extracted a Penguin. Ooh, ah. She’d been waiting for this book. Something by Kingsley Amis. Something to make her laugh!

She had a secret stash of secondhand books. She slipped them into the bookshelves and eventually got around to reading them. Sometimes it took years.

But this one she was in the mood for...now.

She threw off her work clothes and hopped into her jeans and T-shirt, then rushed downstairs to turn the lamps on in the living room (it was gloomy and dark) and flopped down on the couch. She had a perfect evening planned. Popcorn and Kingsley Amis.

Then the phone rang. Her mother’s plaintive voice: I want to ask your advice about your sister’s Christmas present. What size is she? She won’t tell me and I know she’s gotten larger. She said she was dieting, but I don’t know...

I’m not going to answer that, Rose told Binkie.

Her mother’s voice went on: I know it’s early to think about Christmas, but there’s the best sale...

A sale. Oh, dear. Her mother loved a sale. Rose picked up. All right, I’m here, Mom.