Personal Days (18 page)

II (N) v:
Laars claimed to have overheard him say,
So this is what I’ve learned from Operation JASON.
He tried to linger and listen, but Grime saw him and clammed up.

II (O): Slippery Slope

II (O) i:
The holiday party was held at Schüssmeisters. Lizzie and Laars took a cab together straight from the office at 6, figuring they’d get in a few drinks and head home early. No one was in the mood to celebrate, but if they hit the open-bar window, it wouldn’t be a total loss. Crease needed to go home and change, as he found his sweater-vest too humdrum, but some suspected it was to pick up his beret. Pru was meeting her date somewhere first and said she’d join them later. Everyone wondered who her date was and suspected she wouldn’t show up. Nobody had spoken to Jonah all day but when Lizzie e-mailed he replied he’d come by later. He needed to finish some schoolwork.

I don’t want to freak you out,
Lizzie was saying to Laars in the cab,
but I was thinking that maybe it’s not a good thing that K. was fired.

How could it be a bad thing? Lizzie could be too forgiving sometimes. It was endearing but exasperating.
K. was the one who fired Jenny,
Laars said.
K. can pretty much rot in hell.

Yes, but don’t you see? They’ve moved from the
J
s to the
K
s. And there are no other
K
s. I think we’re next.

Lizzie was like the queen of unwanted information.

II (O) ii:
When Lizzie and Laars arrived there was a grand total of four other people milling around. They kept an eye out for Jules. This must have been his new place—the trisyllabic name, the ’70s-lodge decor. Ski poles and antlers decorated the walls, and period fondue sets were being set up on the back table. The music was a little off, though: a dour hiphop number with half the words bleeped out.

They ordered drinks at the bar, or rather the T-Bar, and went over to meet the four people at the center of the room. One of them was the bar’s designer, who was holding a pair of goggles and explaining the philosophy behind Schüssmeisters. An accountant from the telemarketing place and her husband feigned interest.

The fourth person was Grime.

Ever since the advent of the swipe cards, Laars had wanted to make Grime confess to his duplicity. But upon seeing him, he couldn’t find the words. What was done was done—and if Grime was beginning to call the shots, it was better not to provoke him.

Laars was also reminded of Grime’s religious experience. He just wanted to keep as far away as possible.

Lizzie was looking at the ground like she’d lost an earring. The room was filling, the volume level rising by the minute. She wondered if she’d see Jack II or Jill or Jenny, though of course they hadn’t been invited.

Laars entertained an absurd five-second fantasy that Maxine would appear and he’d sweep her off her feet, or vice versa.
Laars, I’ve always thought you were totally hot.
Was that what she would say? He couldn’t get the voice right, couldn’t hear her in his head anymore.
Laars, I’m so happy you’re here.
A little squeal of delight. No. Yes.

He’d ended the vow of chastity a while ago, of course, though in practical terms this did not mean much. He went to the men’s room to practice smiling. He popped out his mouth guard.
Oh Laars, I love it when you smile.
There was a restroom attendant, and Laars knew he’d feel obliged to tip him at least a buck, though all he was doing was looking in the mirror. So he washed his hands with a great quantity of soap and accepted not one but two paper towels from the attendant. He patted the mouth guard dry and put it down by the sink. Shockingly, he didn’t have any singles in his wallet—just a twenty. He apologized for the lack of small bills and departed without leaving a tip. The attendant didn’t say anything—to him, Laars no longer existed.

Laars wondered if he’d soon have to take a job like this one, now that the firing squad had worked through the
J
s and the
K
s. For karma he should have left his twenty but realized he might need it later for a cab.

II (O) iii:
Crease and Jonah arrived at the same time. When Crease gave his coat to the girl, he revealed his bravura wardrobe change: a contemporary iteration of an old-fashioned skiing sweater, in red and green, complete with a huge white snowflake knitted on the chest. It was the sartorial equivalent of comfort food—the perfect complement to the Schüssmeisters aesthetic.

Except that
Jonah
was wearing the same thing, the vintage version. He’d been buying stuff from thrift stores lately, checked work shirts, varsity jackets. His beard was amazing.

Crease contemplated cabbing it home and changing to his previous outfit but decided to stand his ground. There was room enough for two ’70s-redolent snowflake sweaters. But his confidence was seeping away and his throat started feeling funny again.

The girl brought back his coat-check stub and he could barely gasp a thank you.

II (O) iv:
Laars said he was getting déjà vu. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe every holiday party recalled holiday parties of yore. Lizzie said she experienced something like déjà vu but not exactly—more like an out-of-body experience in which she saw herself talking and nodding and drinking, and thought that it wasn’t real, that it was a dream or even some play that she’d been assigned to review. She had problems with the dialogue and the lighting, but some of the costumes weren’t bad. In lieu of her traditional pens, tonight a dark lacquered chopstick held her hair in place.

Was Grime already trashed? He was having volume issues, and slurring issues. They’d never really seen him drunk. He was telling Lizzie and Laars and two random oldsters from the eighth floor that he sometimes got the urge to say things that were entirely inappropriate, just blurt them out for no reason. Sometimes, Grime said, he wondered what it would be like to walk around the office naked, or to talk only in Spanish, or to impersonate a woman.

Normally this would be TMI, but Laars and Lizzie counted themselves as getting off easy. The eighth-floor strangers were nowhere to be seen, having backed away and fled for their lives at some point during the oration.

Everyone was afraid of Grime.

II (O) v:
More people entered Schüssmeisters, to persistent sluggish reggae. The Sprout took off his hat and made a beeline for the T-Bar. They glimpsed Pru shedding her coat and handing it to her date, who took off his fedora and went to check everything in. He was bald, wearing bright red suspenders. He looked friendly and repulsive, like a giant baby. He looked familiar. Laars studied them as they went to fetch drinks, and suddenly it hit him:
Pru’s here with the Original Jack!

Crease brooded at the bar, silently cursing Jonah and the copycat sweater. The Original Jack gave him a bear hug and they talked. From time to time the Original Jack would tilt his face to the ceiling and laugh. Laars observed all this. Crease could be amusing but he was never
that
amusing. Pru wasn’t even laughing. She did look unbelievably great, a trick of the light perhaps, but a good trick.

II (O) vi:
Buddy!
said the Original Jack upon seeing Laars, which made Laars suspect that he’d forgotten his name.

Laars received a slap on the back followed by a bear hug. Then the Original Jack gave Lizzie an even bigger bear hug. Lizzie was never a fan of the Original Jack, and she didn’t so much return the hug as let it wash over her.

The bad thing about the hug was that the Original Jack’s beefy right arm swung too far beyond Lizzie and his college ring hit Laars in the mouth. It made a dreadful noise, like a mug dropped in a sink.

Over the Original Jack’s apologies, Laars began to say he was fine. Alas, he couldn’t quite formulate the sentence, as part of his tooth had fallen out.

Oh,
said Pru.
Oh wow. Oh no.
She gave him her cocktail napkin and went to get a hundred more. Blood trickled down his chin as his upper lip ballooned. He went to the restroom to check out the damage, the bit of tooth still rolling around in his mouth. He secured it to one side with his tongue. Did dentists reattach teeth, or did they just give you a whole new one? Blood dotted the sink. The attendant was in no hurry to help. He was taking his time, groaning at the prospect of significant scrubbing with no promise of a tip.

II (O) vii:
It was good to see that guy but I feel shitty about his tooth,
said the Original Jack.
You know who it would be a blast to see? Maxine. The Maximizer. Where she at?

She got fired,
said Lizzie.

Right.

The same time as Jenny.

Bummer.

And Jack, the other Jack,
added Pru.

Question of the evening: Now that Jack II no longer worked with them, could the Original Jack go back to being plain old Jack?

II (O) viii:
Crease went to the men’s room to inspect his throat, not sure what he was hoping or dreading to see. He was so absorbed in his recurring malady that he didn’t see Laars leaving for the night, hand pressed to mouth, his lingering chastity in no immediate danger.

Crease croaked a request for mouthwash to the attendant, who produced a bottle even before he stopped talking. After freshening up, Crease reached in his pocket for a tip, then realized that touching money would compromise the germless state of his freshly scrubbed hands, possibly slowing the healing process.

II (O) ix:
Pru spotted Jules mumbling in the corner and waved him over. He was unrecognizable, wearing tinted glasses and a ski hat and chewing nervously on a toothpick. He looked a little like the character who gets killed in the first few minutes of a cop show, to be discovered in the morning by a fresh-faced paralegal on her way to the subway. The Original Jack gave him a minimalist hug. Lizzie shook his hand, which felt weirdly cold and dry. Like Crease, Jules wasn’t talking much. He spoke in short sentences, tried to get by with nods and gestures. The Original Jack explained to people that Jules’s therapist, the strict Brentian, now wants him to
think
only in French, even when they’re not in session.

It’s pretty radical,
said the Original Jack, clearly impressed.

The whole thing was confusing to Grime, the newcomer, who wandered by, twirling his martini glass by its stem.
You!
he shouted at Jules, who jumped and maneuvered behind the Original Jack’s body. Grime laughed and caught Lizzie’s eye and began, she thought, to hypnotize her. Was he beckoning her to follow him? Yes. No. Yes. Lizzie was bored, but was she
that
bored? She shifted her weight from one small foot to the other.

II (O) x:
Look,
said Pru to the Original Jack. She pointed to a slender figure.

The pretty one?

I think that’s HABAW.

HA-wha?

As Pru explained Crease’s obsession, her date clapped a hand to his forehead. He knew her from night school. They’d been in the same advanced statistics class over the summer.
I should totally hook Tracy up with Crease,
said the Original Jack. It would be his good deed going into the new year.

As he went to greet Tracy, the Sprout came over. Pru wanted to follow the Original Jack but thought it would be rude to dash away from her boss.

The Sprout started telling her a story about Jonah, but then stopped.

I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,
he said.

When?

I don’t know. Last year.

II (O) xi:
Are you Chris? I’m Tracy.

Was he dreaming? What was going on?

Your friend Jack said you used to be a teacher?
she said, indicating the Original Jack.
I used to teach, too. Never any good at it!
Crease looked back at the Original Jack, who was over by the bar, making enthusiastic head motions and giving Crease the double thumbs-up.

Crease gulped. It hit him. That exquisite British accent—that perfect face!
HABAW!

Unreal, tingling joy clashed with sheer terror. Here she was, talking to him. Teacher—what was she saying? She used to be a teacher? Like him? Maybe she said
preacher.
The words were simple, he knew, yet he could not crack their meaning. He took a breath, just managing to fend off a wheezing bout, and called up one of the two dozen perfect opening lines that he’d developed over the past few months. He put down his drink and opened his mouth confidently and said:
HHHHHHHHHHHhhhHHH!

II (O) xii:
Lizzie returned to where Pru and Jonah were talking.

What’s the matter?
asked Pru.

I think—I think today was the day.

For what?

For Grime—his—you know.

She stared ahead at nothing, at the lights in the window.
I think he’s trying to make me crazy so I’ll resign.

They saw Grime heading to the exit, slowly, even hobbling a little. People gave him a wide berth.

Lizzie said,
I wish this year would end already.

I think you said that last year,
Pru said.

II (P): I Don’t Understand

II (P) i:
The next morning people got to the office late, some so late that it wasn’t even morning. It was a holiday tradition. But this time, for the first time, there was that evil little swipe-card box waiting for them on the wall beside the elevator.

II (P) ii:
Laars was able to wake up early and go to the dentist, who put a temporary cap over his broken tooth. He’d left his mouth guard in the restroom at Schüssmeisters, but he wasn’t going to bother trying to get it back. At least his lip was down to its normal size.

II (P) iii:
Pru got off the elevator and swiped through, or thought she did. The box was unresponsive as usual. No click, no beep, no sign that the card had left any impression. Out of nowhere she raised her leg and connected with a solid kung fu kick. Her heel hit it from the side, knocking it loose.