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He shrugged. “Maria stated you broke it.”
Erin rolled her chair back and stood up, placing her earpiece in the cradle. “Okay, whatever. At least then I’ll know how to fix it next time.”
“Atta girl!” He flashed her a fake smile. “C’mon, then.” He trotted back to the lobby, and Erin dragged her heels as she followed. Why he felt the need to escort her to the copier room, surely a precious waste of his time, baffled Erin.
The copier room was about halfway to the lobby along the main hall. When they reached it, Ted swept into the room and stood poised to introduce Erin to the repairman. The repairman took no notice as he was head to shoulders deep within the underbelly of the machine. Based on the level of disassembly and strewn parts, Erin revised her likelihood of repeating said equipment fix from possible to not a shot in Sheol.
“Erin, this is Gary, our service representative. Gary, Erin will be here to assist you,” Ted announced with a flourish of gestures which were lost on the repairman.
“Huh?” Gary mumbled, casting a quick glance back at them. “Ok.” He resumed his efforts with a shrug.
“I’ll leave you two to it, then.” Ted fake-smiled again and then swept out of the room.
Erin stood by the door, swaying from the balls to heels of her feet and back again. “Anything I can do to help?”
Gary remained deep within the bowels of the machine. “Unless you’re certified to work on the MX-8010, I don’t see how you could help.”
“So, that’s a no, then?”
“Correct. I take it you’re here to supervise my work?”
“Although I’m woefully ill-suited to the chore, yes. That’s why I’m here; to make sure you stay on task and out of trouble,” Erin replied.
He grunted. Erin wasn’t sure if it was in response to her or his efforts.
“I’d leave you to it, if I could. I’m sure you don’t need someone watching over your shoulder.”
“Eh, I don’t mind,” Gary mumbled.
But Erin minded; that was the problem. She walked across the room and sat at a table used for compiling proposals. She added this pointless task to the long list of things Maria had given her this week alone. She’d fetchedfreshcoffee instead of making a new pot. She’d acted as a messenger to convey a simplecan you please contact usmessage in person. She’d printed, collated, and assembled Pythia documents over and over this week, instead of having a specializing printing company handle the large volume. Then there was the moment Maria told her to visit the hardware store to get a sampling of paint chips to match the lemon twist pantone for a client so they could paint an accent wall in their office to match the new campaign.
Nothing she did had any real utility at Pythia. At least, not in a way she could measure it. Unless you counted being Maria’s whipping girl?
The mantle of mediocrity hung heavy on her shoulders, and reflexively, Erin stretched, willing it to crack into a million pieces. She could almost feel it disintegrate and then slide off into the ether around her. Erin stood up and stretched her arms to the ceiling, shaking her head, feeling like she’d just woken up. The anxiety she’d wound up so tightly melted away, leaving her mind feeling light yet grounded within her body.
Gary grunted again and tossed a part out of the machine onto his work mat.
Drifting over to the plotter, she leaned up against it. “Gary?”
His body jerked. “Ow, damn,” he grumbled. He backed out of the machine, rubbing the back of his head.
“How long do you think this,” she gestured toward the machine, “is going to take?”
He pulled his hand away from the back of his head, shooting her a pained glance. “Well, it depends. It appears the drum may have delaminated. If so, I’ll have to get the part sent over from the warehouse. Then it’ll take hours.” Gary sat back on his heels, searching the back of his head with probing fingers.
“Is your head all right?” Erin stepped forward into his space. His breath caught in his throat as she bent over him and threaded her fingers through his sandy blond hair. Catching his fingers in her own, the wet slick of blood smeared across her fingers. “There’s some blood. Hand me a cloth?”
“Thought I caught it,” he said. He dug in a pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, handing it over to her.
Erin pulled his head toward her legs and ran her hands through his hair, locating the wound. The warm blood marked her fingers, quickening her pulse. She placed the kerchief against it, compressing the wound and pressing his head against her knees.
He reached up to take hold of the rag. “I can get that.”
“Don’t be silly,” Erin replied. “This is a tricky angle. Just wait a minute until you stop bleeding.”
She pressed harder against the wound. He whimpered, his hands reaching up and grabbing her legs and skirt. “Here, let me get up. I can sit on that chair.”
Erin pressed his shoulder down. “Don’t be silly.”
