Its hard not being the genius anymore. The pillar of knowledge they used to come running to. It sucks. Starting clean. New flesh, new bone, new everything. Different faces with the same tribulations, recycled and regurgitated through swankier mouths and those gaudy, drenched in preciousness bodies moving more quickly than she’s accustomed to.
Her feet trudge unaffected but her thoughts just don’t gush, the words don’t come. She is ridiculous in her imitation pumps, her imposter bag and thrift store threads. A paltry imposter in a crowd of lovelies.
Everything is different, right down to the plastic phone she dials.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“I feel nothing.” She pauses. “It’s not getting any better, is it?” Her voice delicate and brittle.
“No.”
The thrill of newness was gone. They were both alone here, though he had his books. He seemed to read too much, his hearty appetite for words outweighing his appetite for her.
She had the job. A chair to sit in for eight hours a day and think absurd thoughts. The boss to demand things, the co-workers to ignore her. She had the $10.00 an hour her college degree procured for her. Every day she played dress up, she the doll, life-size and yet so petite and miniscule.
“I have to go” his voice flat and vacant, “I’m in the middle of something.”
She wanted to throw the receiver through the window. Across her view of the highway. Through the cars lurking outside. And she wanted to scream. Somewhere in her throat, a screech lay bottled up, bulging and biting at the seams. But she didn’t. That would be insane. Here she played rational, feigning reason and clearing the crazies out of her elastic head.
In this very moment she decided that something need change. The green list of extensions and faxes in front of her must hold one decent soul. There has to be someone, anyone capable of accepting her, here right in this instant. She fumbled with the cord, dialing Tracy’s extension.
“You have reached Tracy’s desk. I am currently on the phone or away from…”
Slosh. Gurgle. The sounds were coming from her throat. Afraid of imploding she rushed to the bathroom. Splashing water in her face didn’t seem to shatter the moment of its cruelty. This day was turning out to be a cheap, synthetic, carbon copy of the days preceding it.
She slunk down the length of the door, hitting the hard tile with a dull thump. Her thoughts escaped her as her mind drifted back, reversing in her mind to a time when clarity was her haunt, not this insane chatter within her brain.
