The first four days without Mark go by in a blur. Between visiting Minnie, who is sedated most of the time, talking to Elaine about Minnie and the latest town gossip, and going out my mind with worry over Amy, time flies.
And then there’s work.
On Thursday, I walk into work to find my entire desk cleared. All the piles I’d sorted paperwork into are gone. It looks like someone took everything and created one big, sloppy pile on top of the long counter that houses the air conditioning unit.
And instead of those piles, there’s Claudia Landau’s ass all over my desk.
“What are you doing?” I challenge, marching in and getting right up in her face. I’m so sick of her, and now that I know Mark’s in D.C. getting more evidence against her father, I frankly don’t give a crap.
I’m not afraid of her.
She’s clearly surprised. If she thinks I’m going to cower any more, or pretend she isn’t being a bitch when she acts like one, she’s sadly mistaken.
“There was a leak,” she says, pointing up at the ceiling. The tile right above my desk looks clear as can be.
“What leak?”
“Right there. Can’t you see it?”
I look again. “No.”
“Then you’re blind.”
“And you’re an asshole. Get your skanky ho ass off my desk.” The words are out before I realize what I’ve said.
Boy, I really have had it, haven’t I?
She looks like she’s about to explode. “What did you say to me, you little shit?”
“If I’m blind, I guess you’re deaf, Claudia. I said, Get your skanky ho ass off my desk.” I lower my voice as I say the last part.
“You can’t talk to me like that!” She looks around the office as if expecting someone to come to her rescue.
“I just did. You’re not my boss. You don’t work here. Get out.”
Alarm floods her eyes as she realizes I’m not backing down. Funny how bullies freak out when you call them on their antics.
“I’m telling my father what you’ve said.”
“Go ahead. I suspect he won’t care. It’s pretty obvious he’s sick of micromanaging you like you’re a child.”
Her cheeks go bright red with fury. “You’ll regret this.”
“What are you going to do? Kidnap me and cut off my arms and legs?”
The room turns to ice.
Her eyes get impossibly wide, the black eyeliner she wears on her bottom lids looking like a thick chunk of charcoal. Her mouth drops open into a little O of astonishment.
I got her.
But why are my words so shocking?
Effie wanders in at that exact moment, humming to herself and carrying a folder. I can’t tell if she’s heard any of our conversation. She ambles over to the photocopier.
“Hi Carrie,” she says.
“Hi Effie.”
Without looking at Claudia, she says pleasantly, “Hi, Skanky Ho.”
I guess she did hear.
Claudia makes a sound of disgust and flees.
“Carrie?” Effie asks casually, as if that didn’t happen. She loads more paper into the copier. “What’s a ‘skanky ho’?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, Effie. You don’t want to know.”
She sets the photocopier up and starts copying a hundred sets of syllabi for a professor. “Your desk is so clean,” she observes.
I point to the mess Claudia’s made. “Not exactly.”
If there’s one thing you never, ever do when it comes to staff at a university, it’s this: touch the stacks of paper on their desks. Effie knows this. I know this.
So when Effie realizes what Claudia’s done, she inhales sharply, the gasp going on for so long I’m worried she’s having a stroke.
“She did that?”
“Yes.”
“Double skanky ho.” Effie makes a clucking sound and moves quickly for the door. I realize her phone is ringing in the distance.
As I look at the giant pile of papers Claudia’s made, I slump forward. This is at least an hour or two of re-sorting and organizing. A low-grade hum of anxious energy begins inside me.
What have I done?
I’m two Carries right now. The first is the quiet, get-along young woman who is back with a mission: to exonerate my dad. That Carrie stays quiet, lays low, and has one goal.
The other Carrie is just sick of being treated like a doormat by people like Claudia and doesn’t care about jeopardizing any mission. It’s all about dignity and calling people like Claudia on their crap.
For years, Carrie #1 has dominated.
Looks like Carrie #2 is ready for her turn.
It’s been four days since I’ve heard from Mark. When I woke up on Sunday, I got a cryptic text from him that just said:
Lockdown. Don’t expect contact. Home Thursday or Friday.
Great. A “few” days had turned into a week. As hopeful as I am, I doubt he’ll be home tomorrow. I expect Friday at the earliest. Who knows what information they’ve uncovered? I’d rather Mark stay there and do this right than rush home and have the operation all fall apart.
And I certainly don’t want another innocent person to be wrongly accused of anything.
“You see Eric Horner?” Effie asks me as she grabs finished copies off the copy machine. She limps over to a big table and begins making stacks. Five stacks of one hundred sheets of paper. No matter how many times I’ve tried to explain how to use the copier to collate and staple, Effie doesn’t seem to care.
She sits down with a stapler and thumbs her way through one copy of each page. Squares them by banging the small stack on the table top. Staples them.
And prepares to repeat that ninety-nine times.
Welcome to academic administration.
“Not since Saturday, no,” I say. Last night was my first class of the new semester. Anthropology. I half-expected to see Eric in building. New professors get stuck with the night classes. No Eric.
“Hmmm. My son says he’s missing.”
A chill fills my bones. “Missing?”
“Wasn’t here for his first class last night. Isn’t answering his phone. Parents in Ireland are starting to get worried.”
When I was Eric’s student he never, ever missed a class. This isn’t like him. Not one bit.
As if on cue, Chief Cummings walks in to the room. He’s tall, like Mark, and old enough to be Mark’s dad. Grey hair, short and military style. The chief has a grey mustache and wide, green eyes. He doesn’t look much like Effie. I assume he takes after Milton.
“Hello, Carrie,” the chief says. We’re on first-name terms. After what happened three years ago, I know every cop by name.
“Chief.”
I said we were on first name terms. Not that we were on friendly terms.
“Have you seen Eric Horner? Last I heard, you and Officer Paulson had a bit of a run in with him.”
My skin feels like ants are crawling on it. “That was Saturday. He pulled over when I was stopped by the side of the road. Officers Murphy and Paulson thought I might be in some danger. I wasn’t,” I quickly add.
Just then, Claudia marches in, defiant. “There you are!’ she says to the chief, as if he’s a stray servant she’s been looking for. She shoots me a triumphant look as she points to me and says to the chief, “She’s the last one to have seen Eric.” She glares at me and asks, “What did you do to him?”
“Do to him?” I choke out. “What are you talking about?”
“Everyone knows you have a thing for my boyfriend.”
Effie’s shooting daggers at Claudia with her eyes.
“No, I don’t! Eric’s just an old friend.”
“One you were caught nearly kissing by the side of the road on Saturday.”
I’m guessing Murphy can’t keep his mouth shut.
I say nothing. Let Claudia think what she wants.
“Is Eric your boyfriend, or Mark? You were shoving your tongue so far down Mark’s throat the other day I thought you were trying to lick his butt from the inside,” I say to Claudia.
The chief’s jaw drops and he stars coughing uncontrollably.
The phone rings.
“Arts and Sciences. This is Carrie speaking,” I say into the receiver.
“Hi Carrie. Vera from the Registrar’s office. The dean’s late in getting his new advising assignments to us. Any chance you could scan those and get them in by the end of the day?”
Claudia and the chief are hissing at each other. Effie’s watching them with narrowed eyes as she makes a stack, squares the pages, then staples.
Over and over and over.
“Sure,” I say into the phone. I’m relieved to have an excuse to leave. “Be right over.”
I walk into the dean’s office and look through his in-box. He gave me permission to do this on day one.
Claudia comes storming in. “What are you doing?” she snaps.
“Working. It’s what we grown-ups do,” I retort.
Effie snickers from the other room.
“You can’t go through my father’s paperwork.”
“It’s my job,” I say through gritted teeth. Aha. A blue folder with the paperwork I need is right on top. I grab it and spin around, my eyes catching a photograph.
One that stops me dead in my tracks.
On the middle shelf behind the dean’s desk, there’s a framed photo. I’ve never noticed it before, but then again, I’m rarely in his office. All of the main filing cabinets are in my room. The woman has dark hair. It’s long, below shoulder length, and a high black gloss.
She has huge, shining brown eyes and wears red lipstick. Her nose is long and straight, her cheeks apple-like and rosy. She’s a classic beauty, with the warm tones of sun-kissed skin.
“Amy,” I gasp. “Why does your father have a picture of Amy in here?” My eyes fixate on the woman’s face. I grab the photo, then stagger back as my eyes take in the rest.
She’s wearing a black sequined dress and is in a wheelchair, her legs draped with a black blanket.
She has no arms.
“What are you talking about?” Claudia snaps, wrenching the photo from me. Chief Cummings is in my office, chatting with Effie. I can hear them in the distance.
“This is Amy!” I say in a high, shaking voice.
Claudia rolls her eyes. “You are so stupid. It’s not your dumb little friend.”
“Then who is it? It looks just like Amy!”
“That’s not your fucking friend, you idiot. That’s my mother.”