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1
ella
I’m invisible.
I’ve been a good girl all my life. I’ve returned my books to the library on time. I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket. Never stolen Wi-Fi from the neighbors.
I’m a good girl and I think the cosmos should reward me for that, right now. My request is to become invisible.
“Ella, stop pressing buttons, you’re going to blow it up!” Omar says and backs away from me. A look I can only describe as terror on his face.
Everyone is staring at me. Apparently the cosmos isn’t taking requests at the moment.
A loud beeping continues and a cold sweat erupts on my brow. My clammy fingers slide across the worn plastic buttons on the only functional color printer on the floor. The one that presently sounds like a dying alarm clock.
“Stop. Stop. Stop!” I demand, but the printer just continues to spit out page after page even though they’re all getting jammed in the top rollers.
A small wisp of smoke billows up from the machine and more of my colleagues, the back stabbing, good for nothing lot of them, move even further away.
“What the hell is all that racket?” Sam opens the door to his office and looks out into the writers’ pool.
“No! Oh God! Make me invisible! Just make me invisible.” I whisper to myself as I continue to jab on the light pink button labeled cancel.
Sam’s footsteps feel like a rhino charging in my direction.
“Shoot!” I do the only thing I can think of—break it. I open one of the drawers on the printer and yank on the cartridges hoping the stupid machine will get the damn hint and stop.
It did not, instead an arc of yellow ink comes pulsing up like a geyser landing spectacularly on my shirt like abstract art.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam pushes the printer away from the wall and pulls the plug out of the socket causing the printer to shut down immediately.
Oh, now you want to do what you’re told. After all the encouraging words I’ve given you over the years, all the paper refills and ink cleanings. Traitor!
The printer continues to smoke slightly while yellow ink bleeds down the front of the machine onto the carpet.
I press a hand to my chest leaving a long trail of color from my breasts down to my stomach.
I look down on the ground at the mess of papers and ink only to see a pair of large worn in brown penny loafers come into view. My cheeks are so hot I feel like there’s a five alarm fire going on in my face. I’m surprised my face isn’t glowing with how embarrassed I am.
If I stand very still maybe he won’t be able to see me.
I send up one final wish in hopes that now will be the—
“Ella, I need to see you in my office please.” Sam barks out.
Crap on a short stick.
“Um, sure Sam. Give me a second. Let me clean this up … maybe you want to see me at the end of the day?” I try to get out of this meeting the same way I get out of most things. Avoidance.
“No. Clean this up now and come to my office. I’ll be waiting.” He says, turning on his slanted heels.
My head jerks up and I watch his back as he walks to his office. The wrinkles in his ugly blue green plaid shirt let me know that they aren’t from sitting in a chair too long, that shirt has never seen an iron.
“Are you okay?” Larry comes over with a huge wad of paper towels. I grab some of the absorbent towels out of his hands and start cleaning up the mess I’ve made.
“He’s going to have the talk. I don’t think I’m ready for the talk. I’ve spent my whole life trying to avoid this damn talk.” I complain as the two of us get to work cleaning up.
He chuckles like I’m telling a joke, but nothing about this situation is funny. I’m about to get canned for the first time in my life all because of a stupid pre-historic copier.
