FOUR DAYS.

My First Day on the New Job.

My butterflies were playing Marco Polo in the swimming pool of coffee I had to consume just to get up this morning. It seemed like everybody stopped what they were doing and just looked as I walked past, as if I weren't nervous enough already.

This was my first job without my parents' help, without my friends' help. This was my job, and I was going to do it clean, damnit. They watched me, down halls and up to the eighth floor, where I sat in a waiting room. I was very anxious about what my new work assignment entailed.

I sat on the fake leather couch as people strolled by, peering through the window. Well, not so much peering, but stealing a glance. I could see them out of the corner of my eye through the blinds, but whenever I looked, they pretended they were doing something else.

On the TV in the room blared Regis and Kelly. Smug little princess, I thought to myself, but I might have said it aloud, for that instant the door opened and the man I was waiting for came out. When he shook my hand, he had a big fake smile, just like Kelly. I didn't say anything of it. There really wasn't much conversation at all.

He had me fill out some insurance papers. When I returned them to him, he told me I'd be working on the fourth floor in Data Entry. He looked over my paperwork, but his eyes fixed themselves on just one part. I knew what he was looking at, but I didn't want to say anything. I wanted to see what he would do, how he would ask me. Each time had been different, unless they already knew.

"Under past health conditions," he began. I tilted my head slightly to the right, as if to say yes, go on, "you mention being diagnosed for this," and he laid his finger on the name I wrote, "but there's no mention of it anywhere else, or any medications taken for it... nothing." At the last word, he looked up into my eyes. Not many people look into my eyes.

"I'm cured," I said. I got up and walked towards the door. "Thank you for giving me this job." I looked back at him; his eyes had gone back to the paper. At least he wasn't watching me. "I really appreciate it." I nodded my head a little. It seemed respectful enough. With a distracted acknowledgement I decided to take as a "you're welcome," I left his room, and walked through the wait area into the hallway.

None of the people whose desks could see into the hall were talking. They were so busy. I took the elevator down to my floor, and looked for a woman named Ms. Dessir. I remember her name, because it sounded like the word that meant to say in Spanish. It wasn't spelled the same, though. When I found her, she didn't have a fake smile. She didn't smile at all. She just took my name and pencilled it on a piece of official-looking paper. She checked her computer, and then told me to look for an empty desk in some row number.

Down the rows was the same as upstairs. Everyone was so busy they couldn't talk. But they weren't that busy, because I could feel their eyes on me as I passed. Situated in the middle of a row, I found the empty desk. It didn't have the paper, pencils, or personal touches of the others. The only thing on there was a computer. It was already on, so I sat down and looked for Klondike (everyone else calls it just Solitaire, but I call it by its real name. It's more respectful).

A rickety metal noise came up behind me, made by an old cart. The young boy who pushed the cart didn't even look at me once while he searched for just the right batch. Even as he handed them to me, his head was still down. I thanked him, but he didn't answer. He just finished shuffling and sorting, then rolled the cart away.

I flipped through the pages with all of their names and numbers, and I sat them in a neat pile on the left of the keyboard on the desk. Back on the computer, I decided I would reward myself with a game if I finished a certain amount of work, to help pass the time. I closed the game and saw the entry program was already running, so I started putting in info.

Before I knew it, all of the papers he gave me were finished and the clock on the computer said it was almost five pm. No Klondike this time. Everyone in the office was quietly preparing to leave. All I had to do was pick up my bag and walk to the elevators. I pushed the down button and waited. Facing the doors, I could feel eyes on my back. I ignored it very well. The bell dinged, the doors opened, and I stepped inside. I pressed for the ground floor, and the doors began to close, when I could hear murmuring.

My Second Day on the New Job.

No more butterflies at least. I never liked butterflies. All I could feel was the inner-slosh of coffee, like a mini ocean inside my stomach. Mother used to tell me to not drink coffee in the morning, to eat instead. Eating always made me feel funny, so I would just drink coffee. Coffee kept me awake to what was around me. Plus, it was adult to drink coffee.

My coffee-gut and I walked down the way to my desk. Maybe they can hear it sloshing, I thought, maybe that's why they're looking. At my desk, for the first time I noticed the girls on either side of me. One was blonde, with her hair in a bun, and looked very reserved and solemn; the other one was a little older, with dark hair, but she seemed like a happy person. I sat down quietly and looked at the new pile of papers by my keyboard. I figured that was just for before lunch, because it was smaller than the day before.

For lunch, I went downstairs to the snack room. I could eat food at lunchtime without any problems. Needing a sink to wash my hands, I found one in a corner near the restrooms that looked a lot like my bathroom sink. In my mind, I could see my bathroom, and the little bottle from the doctor on the back of the sink with my name on it. I did just fine yesterday; I don't need those, I thought to myself as I got ready for work this morning.

I turned on the water and started rinsing off my hands when I heard it. Someone was murmuring again. Maybe they thought I couldn't hear them, but I could. They were talking about me. That was obvious, but I just didn't know what they were saying. When I turned around to see if I could catch them, everyone was so busy with their lunch.

I ate lunch quickly and returned to my desk. As I stood in front of my chair, I stretched. Arms behind my head, face up to the ceiling, big yawn. On the way back down, though, my eyes saw it. A camera. It was looking right at me, its red light blinking. Blinking and telling me yes, it's on, yes, it's on you. I sat down, but the camera still watched me. I put my face very close to the monitor and stared at the screen. I eyed every little pixel, trying to ignore the camera's blinking.

"You sure left in a hurry," said a girl's voice, startling me. I swung my head and saw the dark haired girl who sat on my right. She had a nice face.

"I get nervous when I eat in front of people." I knew that wasn't why I had left, but it sounded very natural to say.

"That's cool. I get nervous sometimes, too. My name's Tina," she said, holding out an optimistic hand for shaking. She had a smile on her face. Not a fake smile like TV, a nice smile, like my mother's.

"Chris," I replied. I shook her hand and was glad mine wasn't sweaty. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blink. I had forgotten about the camera for a second, but was soon reminded.

"Nice to meet you, Chris." She didn't notice the blinking.

"Uh-huh. Um, did you know there's a camera up there?" I said, pointing.

"Yep. They just want to make sure we're good little workers, I guess." She dismissed it so easily and playfully that it made me jealous. "Well, back to work," she said chipperly, sitting down. The blonde woman sat down at her desk on the other side of me. Everyone around me was quietly working.

I stared at the pixels again, trying to ignore the camera. Soon I could hear the murmuring start up. Not right around me, but somewhere else. Where, I wasn't sure. I raised my head to see who was talking, but then I remembered the camera. They were watching me. I didn't want Them to see me on camera not behaving like the others; They might think me a bad employee. They'd take my new job away. Then my father would say he had told me so.

The rest of my afternoon was spent trying to figure out how I could discover who was murmuring, and what they were saying about me. But I had to do it without the camera seeing me, without it telling on me. Consequently, I didn't get much work done. I flipped papers and typed something every so often so I wouldn't get in trouble. The camera was watching me after all.

The boy with the rickety cart of papers came to my row shortly before I went home. I held up the papers I hadn't finished and tried to explain I needed more time. He ignored me and rummaged through his cart. I held the papers in front of his face and started to say it all again, but he pointed to his ears and told me to leave them on the desk for tomorrow. I leaned my head over and looked at his ears. There were tiny headphones lodged in them, with wires leading to a little radio in his back pocket.

After I sat the papers back down, I made my way to the elevator. I was very happy because I knew how to fix the camera and the sneaky people who talked about me. They murmured as I got in, but I waited patiently for the next day. I had a nice smile on my face.

My Third Day on the New Job.

I was out of coffee. I tried to eat cereal, but it felt weird. Instead, I just drank some coffee ice cream. I melted it in the microwave and drank it. Mother never let me have ice cream, but I was an adult. I wondered if the murmur-people would be able to hear the difference in the sloshing.

On the elevator, all I could hear was the doors opening and closing, and the dings as the elevator made its way up. The people were quiet. Maybe they knew I could hear them. Someone coughed, but no murmurs. There were voices on the fourth floor, though. I got a drink of water from the tank by the elevator on the front. One man told another he used the same water company. A girl said the company was too expensive.

I passed Ms. Dessir's desk on the way to my row. She blurted out "the asshole," and my stomach clenched. Immediately, the man standing next to her asked, "your ex-husband?" She nodded and began talking about child support. My stomach was a stormy sea, but I acted very normal; I knew the camera was watching me. I definitely didn't want any strange attention today. I think the melted coffee ice cream made me even more awake than normal adult coffee.

Past the rows I walked. Computers hummed, and people too. But the computers weren't talking about other computers. I could hear jokes and TV show stories. I could hear snippets of conversations as I walked, about baby-sitters and wives. I sat down and took the little box out of my pocket. My hand was under my desk, where the camera couldn't see me. I carefully balanced it on my knee so it could pick up everything. I had to make sure I moved it carefully, or it would pull the mini-phone I'd bought the night before out of my ear.

I could hear the elevators dinging. I could hear a cell phone making cell phone sounds, then a person talking. I always thought cell phones were disrespectful. The person on the phone said something about people bothering other people. The elevator dinged again, the doors opened and closed. The person on the phone said something was driving them crazy. I never liked that word. I heard a pen rapping. Ms. Dessir said, "yes, over there in the middle." I looked up at the camera. The person on the phone said, "you need to quit." The red light was blinking. The camera was looking right at me. Footsteps in the walkway. More than one. Two maybe. The person on the phone said, "yeah, I'm talkin' to you!"

I snatched the mini-headphone from my ear. I tried to gather the little wire up quickly, without the camera seeing. I just wanted to get it into my pocket. I didn't want any trouble. I crammed it in my pocket, the box, everything. The wires wouldn't stay. Poking, poking. The footsteps stopped. They stopped behind my chair.

"Atterby?" The voice scared me. My fingers stopped poking. The fake coffee in my stomach made a crashing wave. They'd seen me! I didn't know how; I had watched myself. I had watched the camera. Everyone was looking at me, but they didn't hide it. They just looked. Tina was looking at me. I turned around to see who called me. It was the man from the eighth floor. Behind him was a man in a dark uniform, a not-a-cop.

"Yes? I said sheepishly. Now I was nervous. Now my hands were sweaty. My stomach sloshed even though I wasn't walking. I tried to smile, but my face wouldn't work. I could taste the ice cream, but it was stinging my throat, like it had gone bad.

"Can we talk over there?" He didn't smile. I got up easily, so I wouldn't drop the little box that was probably not in my pocket very securely. He walked over to the edge of the row and the not-a-cop walked behind me. I stopped close to him, so he wouldn't have to talk loud. I turned the ear to him that wasn't buzzing from the mini-phone.

"Atterby," (I didn't know why he called me by my last name. Maybe he thought it was respectful) "I called the references you listed on the application. According to them, and to the doctor whose number I got from your mother, you're supposed to take pills every four hours during the day. You haven't been doing that, have you?" I shook my head. My eyes were looking down at my sweaty, red hands, which were wringing from nervousness. "Do you even have your pills?"

"At home," I answered quietly. I knew they were watching me. "But I don't need them. I'm cured. I'm fine." He shook his head. I looked up at him. His hair was brown-grey like a kitten's face, and it didn't move. It looked a little bit like mannequin hair.

"We can't take that chance. Normally, I'd let you go for something like this," I could taste the ice cream again, bitter and hot, "but I'll give you the opportunity to go home today, take your medication like you should, then come back tomorrow. Don't let anything like this happen again, though, or else." All the eyes in the room were on me. I knew it. I could feel them on my back. Could they hear what he had said? Didn't he want me to be clean? If he talked to my mother, I couldn't tell him about the murmuring. If I did, he'd just think I was...

"Okay." I walked back to my desk, the not-a-cop behind me. The man from the eighth floor went back to the elevators. Probably back to the eighth floor to tell everyone about me. I knew they were all looking at me, calling me names in a murmur. I ignored them all very well. I was going home.

My parents were going to call me tonight. I picked up my bag and stacked my papers. The not-a-cop escorted me downstairs to a taxi that was there to take me home. The driver looked at me in the rear view mirror every time there was a red light. The not-a-cop probably told him what had happened. He probably told him that he had to watch me when I wasn't looking. People always talked about me when I wasn't looking.

At the last light before we would get home, a rough voice said, "Hey, you okay?" Now I knew he had talked to them. His voice shocked me, but I wasn't going to say anything wrong; he wouldn't trick me. I just stared back at his mirror-eyes until the light changed. He didn't look at me any more.

When I got there, I saw my mother standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. I got out of the taxi carefully. She came closer to me, but I turned back and got my bag off of the seat.

"How are you feeling, dear?" I wanted my breakfast to stay quiet. It was swimming all around, and she couldn't know I had ice cream. I walked past her. I had to be strong or else she'd start talking like the teachers did in school, which always meant another trip. No more trips.

"Honey..." her voice made me flinch. I looked back as I sat my bag down by the front door. She had a look in her eye. What did she know? My head went down slowly, so she wouldn't know I was looking for the little box. Was the wire in my pocket sticking out? If she knew I had it, she'd take it away like everything else. She'd take away my job.

"Your father and I are worried about you. Why did you stop taking your medicine? I thought it was making you feel better." She didn't know what it was like to be clean, to be awake. She couldn't know. I wanted to do something by myself. I looked up at Mother, in her eyes. I couldn't say that, not to her.

"Maybe we should go visit the doctor today—"

"No! No, I don't need to, no..." My face was hot. I could feel the fake coffee swirling around. No more visits, no more trips. Slowly, I walked into the bathroom and took a pill.

My Fourth Day on the New Job.

Mother drove me to work. Before we went there, we had a light breakfast at Denny's. Denny's is much more adult than McDonald's. I didn't drink any coffee, but I took a pill with some orange juice.

The elevator ride was nice. Someone even said good morning to me. These are nice people, I thought. I got my work done very well, like on the first day, so I played two games of Klondike, and won. I ate lunch with Tina, and then took my second pill. When I got back to my desk, I looked up at the camera. It didn't bother me today; I barely even noticed the blinking. Tina sat in her chair, always so calm. I sat right after, waiting for the cart to pass by. I guess I'll do all right here after all. I smiled a nice smile to myself.

The rickety cart passed by, and the boy passed me some new papers. I thanked him, even though I knew he didn't hear it. It's just respectful. He rattled away, and when the cart's sound died, I listened. No murmurs. No camera blinking. No sloshing.

This was my first job without any help, and I was gonna do it real good, too.