Page 5 of The Inmate
That could be true.
Seth’s eyes soften. “Are you okay, Nat? You look kind of frazzled.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just saying. You’ve been working your butt off lately. Your sales have been through the roof, and you’ve been organizing this 5K. I don’t even know how you have the time. You should relax a little.”
The beginning of a lump forms in my throat. “I make time for things that are important.”
“I know.”
I swallow down the lump. “You’re showing up to run on Saturday, right? I’m counting on you.”
“I’ll be there.” He places a hand on his chest. “I promise. And don’t worry—I bet anything Dawn will be in my office at two. She’s always on time.”
As soon as I get out of Seth’s office, I return to my cubicle. That turtle figurine is still on my desk, staring up at me with its vacant black eyes. Seth’s comment about how I look frazzled is still ringing in my ears, so I pull out my compact. Despite the expensive face cream I smeared over my cheeks this morning, my skin looks sallow. Usually, I have great skin. It’s one of the things that helps me sell our product. But I didn’t sleep well last night. My blond hair looks uncharacteristically limp and lifeless.
I just can’t stop thinking about that phone call… I can’t stop hearing the frantic edge in the caller’s voice.
Help me.
It didn’t sound like somebody asking for customer assistance. It sounded like the cries of somebody who was truly in trouble.
But Seth is right. I can’t call the police to report that my coworker is an hour late to work. I’m sure Dawn will show up to work soon. This is surely all a big misunderstanding.
ChapterThree
NINE MONTHS EARLIER
To: Mia Hodge
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: Greetings
Dear Mia,
Today was my first day at my new job that I was telling you about.
I wish I could say it was easy, but you know me. You know I’m shy. I have that in common with turtles—they are naturally shy animals. Not to say that they don’t have any personality, because they certainly do, but most turtles prefer to stay in their own environment. They don’t want to be played with. And when faced with any kind of threat, their first reaction isn’t to attack. It’s to retract into their shells and hide. Sound familiar?
My life would be easier if I had a shell like a turtle does. Remember when you helped me build that shell out of cardboard boxes? I gathered the rocks at the park and we glued them onto the boxes together in my living room. It didn’t look real, of course—we were only seven years old. But when I was having a bad day, I had a place to hide.
How long did that shell last? A week? Two? I just remember coming home one day and it was gone. My mother had dismantled it while I was at school, and threw it in the trash. She ripped it to shreds so there was no chance of possibly reconstructing it. She said to me:This is why you only have one friend, Dawn.
As if I need another friend besides you. I just wish you didn’t live across the entire country right now.
The closest thing I currently have to a shell is my round tortoiseshell glasses, which I purchased about a year ago. I don’t think you’ve seen them. Don’t worry—they’re not made of real tortoise shells.
The company I’m working for is called Vixed. They sell natural vitamin supplements or some such items. I’m sure I’ll learn more about it soon, although all I’m doing is accounting so it’s not necessary to know the details of all their operations. I received a three-inch thick packet in the mail about the company’s products, although it was sadly lacking in data about their efficacy. Perhaps I could suggest some randomized controlled studies along those lines? I’m trying to think of ways to make myself more useful.
My new boss Seth took me around to meet everyone in the morning. I only met Seth once before today, when he interviewed me. When I met him, I got a good feeling about him. He’s forty-something, very friendly in a way that a turtle is definitely not, and he seemed as enthusiastic as he possibly could be about me coming to work as the company’s accountant.
But today Seth seemed different. He was more charming the day we met—all smiles and excited about every little thing I had to say. Today, he seemed distracted. He rushed me around the office, not giving me a chance to remember anyone’s name or do anything more than wave a quick hello. He looked at his watch five times while taking me around. Also, when I asked him questions, he didn’t seem to know many of the answers. It was rather disappointing.
For example, I asked him how often the refrigerator was cleaned. He looked surprised. So I explained to him that many bacteria such as Listeria can easily grow at cold temperatures. I had quite a lot of data on it, but when I tried to share those data with Seth, he didn’t seem to be interested. He just mumbled something about asking the janitorial staff. Then he said, “Jesus, Dawn.”
I was beginning to feel like Seth was annoyed at me because that’s what my father always used to say when I would do something to annoy him.Jesus, Dawn. He said it a lot. Practically every day.
