Jane Snyder
At the call center the workers stood for huddle, the morning meeting, so they wouldn’t get comfortable, waste time talking.
Nancy, the boss, was in a snit. Their numbers were down. All you got to do, she said, is sign up people to go to a presentation on timeshare condominiums, no obligation to buy and they get a free gift of their choice. Nothing to it. You sure don’t have to be smart, she said, looking at Casey in back.
Casey had liked Nancy at first, admired her bright blonde hair, her pink nails with the pearly white tips. This job is perfect for you, she said, when Casey said she couldn’t wait tables anymore after she hurt her back. She didn’t tell Nancy she was too slow for waitressing anyway, made too many mistakes, cried when customers yelled at her.
When they were still friendly Nancy told her she picked her lipsticks in a shade that would complement, not match, her polish. “So I don’t look like Barbie.”
“Subtle.”
Nancy yelled at her too, made her stay behind after they’d sung the song. It’s all about the money, honey, the money, money, money.
See, Casey wanted to tell them, when Nancy finally stopped and let her go to her desk, I haven’t been fired, like you thought.
She ran her fingers over her call list, hoping to feel money, as Nancy claimed she could, but it was just a piece of paper. The number she called was in her head.
Amy, her best friend in second, third, fourth, and fifth grade, answered.
“What do you want?”
It must be spring break. She’d counted on Amy being away at college. It was Amy’s mom she wanted. Other mothers, when she told them she hadn’t had anything to eat all day, would spread peanut butter on bread for her, say don’t expect a meal if you’re not invited for one, but Cathy, Amy’s mom, would make her something good.
In fourth grade Amy announced she’d tutor Casey so they could go to college together, be roommates. Cathy laughed, said Casey was plenty smart. “She’ll tutor you.”
This was at Halloween. They’d gone to lunch and the corn maze, Amy’s dad paying. “They’ve got more money than they know what to do with,” Casey’s mother always said.
Cathy stopped at the fire pit by the refreshment stand, said she was cold. She’d stay there and read her book while Amy’s dad took the girls through the maze.
Casey figured the way out at once. It was next to the entrance and people didn’t expect it so soon, walked by without seeing it. She led Amy and her father away from the shrieks and laughter, to stand triumphantly in front of Cathy, who shut her book slowly, smiled when Casey asked her what they’d do next.
Today she pretended she and Amy were still friends. “I bet college is wild.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Actually, it was your mom I was calling.”
“She can’t come to the phone. She has a migraine.”
Casey had seen her with one once. She’d asked Casey, her mouth trembling, the words coming out slowly, to go home, please. But there was nothing for Casey there.
Cathy let her stay after she said her mom wasn’t home but after she went to her room all Amy could think of was going downstairs to watch TV. Casey set up the Hungry Hippos game at the dining room table, rolled the marbles around in the box.
Amy told her she was being too loud, acting as if she, Amy, was the Cathy expert.
Just go, she’d hissed. Go home.
Now Amy said she’d ask Cathy to call her back. “If I remember.”
They heard Cathy’s voice then, saying she was better.
Amy asked her if she wanted to talk to Casey. “Of course I do.”
“Whatever,” Amy said, but Cathy sounded the way she always did. Good to hear your voice, I’ve missed you. “What you doing these days, sweetie?”
“Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. But before we get started I want you to know you don’t have to buy anything.”
“Don’t I?” The warmth drained from her voice. “I wish you well, Casey, but please don’t call me again.”
Casey knew she should keep talking, say let me tell you about this amazing offer, give me one minute of your time, just sixty short seconds, instead of smiling, resting both hands on the useless list, waiting.
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JANE SNYDER’s stories have recently appeared in Maudlin House, Your Impossible Voice, and Wilderness House Review. She lives in Spokane.
