I call in sick? I could spend the day with my feet buried in the sand and my nose buried in a book. She could feel the freshness of the air, a wonderful change from the muggy and oppressive previous two weeks.
She stared out the window while she pulled her sleeveless yellow dress over her head and fastened the buttons down the front. She stood silently for a moment as she gazed out toward the water. At least it’s Thursday. One more day to the weekend.
Celia moved forward into the window. She placed both hands on the windowsill and pressed her face against the screen. She inhaled the ocean air. How can I spend such a glorious day cooped up in my office? I should get a waitress job down at the dock. I could serve oversized veggie sandwiches dripping with melted cheese and cool fruit smoothies to tourists all day. I would be able to enjoy the golden sunshine and fresh air. A puff of pollen wafted from the window. Celia sneezed. And how about those cold winter blizzards? Fun at the dock then?
Celia buckled her seat belt, placed the key in the ignition, and started the engine. She patted the dashboard. “Thank you, sweetie.” Her little green car didn’t always start.
She drove the scenic way, which took her by the ocean. She pulled into the parking lot at the beach, took the first space closest to the sand, opened the windows, and smelled the ocean air. From behind the steering wheel, she watched the waves roll onto the shore. She was mesmerized by the water.
The crash of a shell smashing onto the hood of her car startled her back to reality. In an instant, a filthy seagull blocked her view. The bird pecked at the shell and pulled out a tiny piece of meat. It then pooped on the car’s hood. Thanks for the gift, birdie. Guess this beach break is over. The dashboard clock read 8:17 a.m. She left the beach and headed to the T station.
Regardless of how beautiful the day, the subway car was either too cold or too hot. Today the underground travel was sweltering and unpleasant. Celia took the last seat in the row, which limited the number of passengers surrounding her to one. A woman doused in cheap perfume took the seat next to her and took Celia’s breath away. Damn. That stinks. Celia opened her bag and pulled out a tissue, which she then held under her nose. How about a no perfume area? Did anyone ever think of that? Cigarette smoke isn’t nearly this offensive. Said the smoker. She saw the humor in her idea.
Her office was neat and simply decorated. She was one of the lucky ones on the seventh floor who had the luxury of a window. A window that showcased a skyline view of larger buildings in the city. Prints from local street artists covered the dreadfully painted light-blue walls. A four-foot silk ficus tree stood by the door. Her old mahogany desk was large and took up half of the wall across from the window. She enjoyed people-watching on the pedestrian mall below.
Celia’s eyes focused on her monitor, and her fingers flew across the keyboard. She was engrossed in the database she was developing. Sadly, she was oblivious of the glorious day outside.
“Knock, knock. Am I interrupting anything?” Ramona moved her fist back and forth in the air, as she pretended to knock on the nonexistent door that led into Celia’s office.
“Oh, you startled me. You’re not interrupting anything. Come on in. I could use a break. I’m going blind from this computer screen.” She nodded her head toward the monitor. “What’s going on?”
Ramona stepped into her office and took a seat in the old black chair across from Celia’s desk. She immediately crossed her legs and rapidly shook her foot back and forth. Her dangling shoe appeared as if it would drop to the floor at any moment. Celia knew Ramona had something up her sleeve. She appeared anxious, which was different from her usual nondescript expression. Ramona was grinning, as if she held a secret she was about to share. She dressed fashionably, and her clothes were always perfectly pressed. Her almond-shaped brown eyes were encased by long, thick, dark eyelashes. Her highlighted hair, cut short above her neck, accentuated her chin, which appeared too large for her face.
“You busy tomorrow after work? Would you want to meet me for a drink or something?”
“I guess so.” Celia took a deep breath. She wished she could inhale the words back into her mouth. STOP! She had made a mistake when she answered too hastily. She hesitated. “Just you and me? No one else, right?” Celia waited. Ramona did not respond fast enough for Celia’s liking. “Ramona?” Celia said her friend’s name slowly and inquiringly. Ramona constantly pestered Celia to let her fix her up. This visit would prove no different.
“My brother Walter is coming in from New York, and I thought you might like to meet him. I think it could be fun. He’ll treat us and maybe we’ll even get dinner or something.”
“Ramona, I don’t know. I hate fix ups, and this has the definite feel of a fix up. Besides, he’s your brother. How could I ever look you in the eye if I sleep with him the first time we meet and then decide I hate him?”
“Ha ha. I know you’re little too uptight to even kiss a guy the first time you meet him, let alone get intimate.”
Ramona’s shoe dropped to the floor. “Listen. It’s not a fix up. I promised to do something with him and think it will be more fun for him, and for me, if you come out with us. He lives in New York City, so it’s not as if you can have a dating relationship with him anyway.”
“I guess you’re right.” She picked up a paper clip and tossed it onto Ramona’s lap.
“It’s drinks, maybe dinner. No big deal. Really. What else will you do?” She threw the paper clip back onto the desk blotter. “You never go out anymore. Do something different for a change. Come on. I’m begging you.” Ramona clasped her hands together in a pleading fashion and put them under her large chin as she raised her head high.
How could Celia refuse her?
Walter and Ramona were seated at a table when Celia arrived a few minutes before six o’clock. Ramona’s brother was handsome. He had the same almond-shaped dark eyes and long lashes that Ramona had. They were unquestionably brother and sister. He was much taller than his sister, and his physique more athletic, but the resemblance, including the large chin, was uncanny. He wore khaki slacks and a white collared button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and exposed tanned, muscular forearms covered with shiny blond hairs. His smile was fabulous and produced a twinkle in his eyes, which were surrounded by fine character lines.
“Sorry I’m a little late. My computer froze, and I had to restart to make sure everything was working before I left.” Celia pulled out the empty chair conveniently left between Ramona and Walter. Walter stood and helped Celia as he slid her chair in toward the table. The appropriate introductions were made as they sat together in the crowded bar. Ramona, I’m surprised you never mentioned your handsome brother before. “How you guys doing?”
Neither sibling responded. Walter and Ramona blankly stared at Celia but didn’t answer her question. No one spoke. Except for the noises from other patrons, there was silence at their table. Celia expected one of them would say something. But no words were exchanged. Celia was uncomfortable with the quiet. After a few more speechless moments, she glared at Ramona. Are you going to respond? Are you going to say anything to help break the ice? Neither sibling spoke.
“When did you get to Boston, Walter?” Celia
