The Big Dream (13 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Rosenblum

Tags: #Fiction, #Short Stories; Canadian, #Success, #Short Stories (Single Author), #Labor, #Self-Realization, #Periodicals - Publishing

BOOK: The Big Dream
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They were already moving. In the back seat, Marley was sucking the drapery nozzle from the vacuum cleaner.
Theo: “The meds ex
pired,
apparently. I have to bring new ones. We have to.”
“Expired? Benadryl expires? This doesn't sound familiar. Did you get a notice?”
“Hell, I don't know, probably. You know what his backpack is like.”
Once they were on the road, Rae yanked up her blouse and undid the top button of her skirt before kneeling backwards to lean over and touch Marley's warm sticky face.
“Hel-
lo
, ass.”
“Funny.” She flushed, canted her hips away from him, stroked Marley's sweaty curls. The skirt really was way too tight. “They have no other Benadryl, from some other kid's kit? It's not like it's prescription.”
“Said they couldn't administer drugs other than parent-supplied. So they've been waiting.”
“Where were you?”
“Bah blah black blax blah!” Marley babbled happily.
“I had to get her dressed, and that guy who came to fix the stove wouldn't leave, and you don't seem to pick up
your
phone a hell of a lot.”
“Shit.” She hooked her belly harder into the seatback.
“Yeah, and – Could you sit down, please?”
“I hope
your
Benadryl hasn't expired.” Rae sat and looked at Theo. His hair was as bright blond as Marley's. His left hand with no wedding ring was on the wheel. The thin wire arm of his glasses was rucked up above his ear, he hadn't shaved, he was wearing an Eels tee with the first E starting to peel. It was strange to see him mid-week.
“It had. The drugstore also played a role in the past little while.”
“Poor kid, all covered in hives. I hope they remember that he's not the one with the
fatal
allergy. It think that's the Yee girl. Jake'd lose it if they took him to the ER.”
“Mrs. Dreven isn't a moron. But he'll freak regardless. I thought he'd want you.”
“Thanks.” Theo had a bit of a tan. He hadn't last weekend when he picked up the kids. Perhaps he'd taken them to the park, or mowed the lawn. She missed the lawn, dark and uneven, mainly moss under the apple tree. “I'm sorry about the phone.”
“Could you just look in the bag and see if you recognize the one with the right dosage?” Theo was waving his naked hand around. “They musta – I dunno, changed the colour of the box or something? So I brought them all.”
“What, really? Those things cost a fortune. You – ”
“This is not the best day I ever had, Rae.”
Rae was aware of her breath and his slowly synching up. “Where's the bag?”
“Behind you.”
She twisted again to kneel half on the glovebox, her wide office-work ass in the windshield, her hip brushing Theo's shoulder. She had to lean to reach the bag. Marley's yellow sneaker kicked her hard in the jaw.
“So, how's work?”
“Awful.” Rae flumphed back into her seat. “Bloody cheese-eaters.”
Theo was speeding, passing on the right. “What's new?”
“They've hired this girl, new designer.” Rae dumped the boxes on her knees, flicking them over to find instructions. “She's straight out of school, jittery as a jailbreak, knows nothing. They're going to eat her like a scone.”
“A
scone
? Pretty?”
“Pretty enough, cream scone. You saw her, back there.” Rae plucked a box out of the pile. “This one isn't even Benadryl, it's something else. We can't give him that.”
“Eh-he-he-heeee . . . .” Marley was starting to fuss.
“Shush, baby almost there. Yeah,
very
pretty, but – ”
“
Very?
The point is, training her will set me back a month.”
“But a
scone
?”
“And it'll be me who does. Ursula abdicates all responsibilities except for yelling, Hamid's got something
wrong
with him whenever there's a female around. Amelia is gone and . . .” A pillbox slid between her knees, then another. She grabbed one and waved it. “Theo, I don't recognize
any
of these. I don't think you got the right one.”
“What?” He flicked his hands off the wheel in a helpless, ringless gesture, and then grabbed it again when the car skewed. “We're almost there.”
She didn't know what he would do with his ring, if he would keep it on his body somewhere, like her, or if it was just lying on the dusty bureau. She missed the bureau. “I thought it was purple. I don't remember. We can't just give him a random pill.”
“Look, listen.” Theo was flushed under his tan. Marley was a steady drone of disquiet. “His school file has the instruction form, what dosage they're supposed to
administer.
We'll ask to read that. They'll think we're bad parents but they'll let us.”
“Oh, ok, yeah. Poor Jake. We
are
bad parents.” The baby started sobbing loudly, hands balled into fists. Rae twisted again, boxes sliding onto the floor. “Marley, baby, sh-shh. Oh, hey, you dropped your . . . drapes attachment.”
As she brushed her face past Theo's, he said, “Hey, are you crying?”
“Of course she's crying, have you lost your hearing?”
“
You.
Rae. Are
you
crying?”
Saliva had gummed lint and a Cheerio onto the nozzle. Rae wiped the grey plastic carefully on the silk of her left breast before letting Marley's pearl fingers seize it.
Rae sat yet again and reached over her knees to begin gathering the boxes. “No, I'm just – ” Her voice shook; tears dripped onto the children's antihistamines. “Oh.” She put her wet cheek on her knee and stopped moving.
She could hear the swish of cars whirring past, the suck of Marley's mouth on plastic, the faint brush of denim against napped upholstery as Theo shifted in his seat. He put his palm on her back, across the band of her bra. It was humiliating, knowing he could feel the sobs that filled her lungs, the ridge of fat pushed up by the elastic, but she couldn't stop.
She felt the weight of his hand all through the cloverleaf curve, three stoplights, the bump-bump into the elementary school lot. Theo was driving badly, one-handed. He pulled the parking brake, Theo always did, and took the keys out of the ignition.
His voice, soft: “Just stay with the babe a second, I'll go in.”
She raised her head to look at his crooked glasses, his squint-eyed sorrow. “Couldn't we just . . . all go together?”
To: All onsite employees; all temporary employees
CC: Purchasing; Sanjeet Rafeal
From: Reception
Re: Supply Cupboards
Thursday, 8:11 a.m.
Dear Dream Team,
 
Please note that small items of stationery supplies are available for your use in the supply cupboard of
your department.
If the item that you need is not available in that cupboard, it is
your
responsibility to ask the person in your department responsible for the monthly order (usually the departmental assistant, but not always) to include your item in the next order by submitting a
supplies requisition
(you can find this form on the Dream.Net site). It is
NOT ACCEPTABLE
to remove items from the cupboards of other departments, where supply needs and ordering schedules may be different.
Plan ahead to avoid inconveniencing yourself and your colleagues.
 
Best,
Reception
HOW TO KEEP YOUR DAY JOB
DO A DRY RUN ON THE BUS the week before you start, at the right time of day, carrying the right amount of stuff, in the stiff uncomfortable black shoes you can't run in. If you don't own such shoes, buy some. Don't get paint on them.
Also, buy a second alarm clock. Set it half an hour early. Promise your boyfriend that you'll turn it off as soon as it rings, and that you'll get ready really quietly. In the dark if you have to.
You can wear most reasonable clothing to an office; it isn't as bad as all that. Just nothing with paint or an amusing slogan on it, and nothing that makes you look either really attractive or really awful. Probably nothing purple, either. If in doubt, put a cardigan over it.
Smile as you turn off the alarm. Smile on the bus. Smile in the lobby. Smile at your desk.
Put your full name on all paperwork, even though your boyfriend makes fun of your middle name. Accept whatever desk you are given, even if it is in a hallway and someone seems to be asking if that is ok with you. Laugh at whatever jokes you are told, even if they seem sort of mean to gay people.
Work hard.
Don't work so hard that you don't take a lunch. The first day, bring something interesting to eat, although certainly nothing with a weird smell, or even any smell at all if you can help it. Then wait and see if people invite you to eat with them. Interesting food will give people something to talk to you about if they invite
you to eat with them. If they don't, eat your complicated odourless sandwich alone at your desk at 2:30.
Smile in the hallways, even when people don't smile back. Smile at the photocopier, even when it's jammed and smears toner on your cardigan when you try to unjam it. Never smile in the washroom.
Don't do anything that could draw attention. Your goal should be to be anonymously indispensable (like a photocopier that never jams). Examples of attention-drawing activities include: putting up posters for your art show, getting loudly angry at your boyfriend on the phone, falling down the stairs, or crying when someone yells at you.
Use Post-its, all the different colours. Use a mechanical pencil. Use Excel spreadsheets, Internet radio, GoogleEarth, and a speakerphone. Use XpressPost and bicycle couriers and the colour scanner and too many paper clips. Revel in all that is yours to use, though you don't need or want to.
When you talk about your boyfriend, start saying
partner,
even though you know he would give you a dirty look if he could hear. In an office, everyone is assumed PC and judgey until proven otherwise.
If ever you arrive late, don't say a thing, least of all an excuse. Act like you thought the workday really started at 9:47. But don't eat lunch, as penance.
Do not moan to your partner that you are imprisoned away from your real life, squashed and stifled, unmotivated and under-appreciated. He'll only tell you to move the canvases out of the living room if you're not going to work on them. Your partner hates whiners.
Watch your step.
Watch the movie
American Pie,
particularly that girl from
Buffy
with the “This one time at band camp . . .” refrain. Avoid becoming the loser who is cool somewhere else, not here, and wants people to believe it. You can talk about your surreal still-lifes
and your partner's band, but keep in mind: most people don't care. And how cool are you even elsewhere, really?
Even in summer, don't stress about tattoos. Everybody has one now; a butterfly on your shoulder isn't even interesting anymore. If in doubt, put a cardigan over it.
If, because relationships are stressful and his band has been fighting and the summer's been hot, your partner knocks you into the wall and it leaves a bruise, a cardigan will cover that too. You might be able to call the Employee Assistance Program to talk it over, but they probably report everything to management. Nobody likes a whiner.
Do not complain to your colleagues that you are imprisoned away from your art, that your partner is cold and distant, that the photocopier is broken. Your co-workers have problems, too, and will not feel sorry for you. And – remember – nobody likes a whiner.
Your colleagues might not like you even if you don't whine, but you have to pretend they still might. If someone says your clothes are “interesting” because they are “apparently” reversible or that they “can't help but notice” that you are “able to resist” hairstyling products, give them the benefit of the doubt.
If your yoghurt disappears from the fridge, give everyone the benefit of the doubt.
If, at 4:07, a superior finds something that must be completed by the next morning, say you can't stay if you can't stay. Explain that to do overtime, you'll need some notice because you have lots of responsibilities (use the words
overtime
and
responsibilities
– they are more imposing than
work late
and
stuff to do
). If your superior doesn't respond, explain about the show, the workshop, or your partner's desire to have you home by six. Then look sad. Then go sit down and do the work.
Breathe.
If your partner tells you he needs the space to stay out all night, try to understand, but also explain that you feel lonely
and worried when he does this. Then try to be sexier. Then look sad. Then go to bed alone.
If people ask you for things that aren't part of your job, try anyway. If you can't do those things, find out whose job it is and tell him or her to do it. If he or she implies that you are lazy, assure them you are not. If they disagree, go sit down and do their work.
Despite your best efforts, you still might fall down the stairs. That's natural. We are all hurtling through space at alarming speeds and those stiff shiny shoes are treadless and not designed for grip. And life is complicated enough that stairs might not be the first thing on your mind.
Accept the possibility of the fall. To be prey to gravity is to be human. But if falling, do stop when you can.
Don't
be seduced by the free fall, the absence of responsibility from the complications of life, the new angles at which a broken leg can bend. Weigh your body hard on each step until you come to one on which you can rest.

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