Up & Out - Ariella Papa [97]
I go right downstairs to where they have the sale stuff. I won’t be thwarted by the beautiful pink silk kimono dress I see in my periphery. I will only buy something that is marked down. I find a great red tank top with delicate beading at the neck, a deep blue shirt with sheer cap sleeves that is cut in an Asian style. I splurge on a regular priced pair of capri pants that someone put downstairs to trick girls like me into buying them.
I can’t try any of it on, because I am still super sweaty from running, but I am confident enough to buy the pants in my original size of ten and will myself into wearing them.
I go to the cashier and put all the clothes on the counter. When I look up at him, he looks like someone I know. Sometimes walking around the city, you see people that look like they may have gone to college with you or that you have worked with before, but you aren’t sure. This guy looks at least five years older than me, but he is so recognizable I say hi.
“Hey,” he says, as if he recognizes me, too. “How did that dress work out at the wedding?”
“No,” I say, “I think you’re thinking of someone else, but you look familiar to me, too. I’m Rebecca Cole.”
“Oh, Rebecca, hey,” the guy says, smiling. “I didn’t recognize you. It’s Paul Perry.”
“Oh, Paul! Hey.” I hadn’t thought about him since he called me at the beginning of the summer looking for a job, and I haven’t seen him since we worked together at ARCADE. We awkwardly kiss hello. I hope he doesn’t notice how bad I smell.
“How are you, Rebecca? What do you have, the day off?”
“I’m permanently off,” I say, laughing. His eyes narrow. “It’s okay. I got fired.”
“Oh, Rebecca, how awful. Were there a bunch of layoffs?”
“There were some,” I say, still smiling. “But I was the only one in production. I think I was a bit of a problem.”
“You? I can’t believe it.”
“Well, neither could I, but I guess I’m getting used to it.”
“Have you found anything else?”
“Um, no, not yet. I’ve still got another couple of weeks of severance.” Actually it runs out at the end of next week, but there is no need to alarm Paul Perry or work myself up into a frenzy when there is a possibility I might fit back into a size ten.
“Well, I’m sure you have a lot of connections,” Paul says. Then I know he is going to start fishing for some of those connections.
“So, you work at Antropologie,” I say. “You must get a great discount.”
“Oh, yes, the ladies love it.” Paul smiles a nervous smile. “And you know, it pays the bills. It gives me a chance to concentrate on my writing. I’m pitching a couple of shows….”
Paul starts talking and I sort of tune out as he rapidly recites his résumé. Is this what I am going to become? At the end of next week, CRAP!!! I’m not going to have any money except for the four hundred dollars I get every week from Unemployment and SHIT!!! Eventually that is going to run out.
Sure, I’m so sure I could work in retail, and wouldn’t it be great if I could get that silk kimono dress I ignored for a bazillion percent off? But FUCK!!! What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life? I tune back into Paul at just the right time.
“…So, I’m certain that one of those ideas will sell. I would love to have you read it for some input. You know how great feedback can be. Maybe, now that you are unemployed, we could work on something together.” I know Paul would never be saying this to me if I hadn’t had a show on a network, but eventually people will forget that I had a show, and then what? Then no one will care about my opinion. Then people will be stepping over me on the street.
I’ve been living in a dream world. I’ve been a lady who lunches, runs, watches TV and doesn’t realize that it’s all about to end. What am I going to do?
“Um, Paul, you know what, I think I’m just going to get the shirts on sale and not the full-priced pants.”
Last year’s black capri pants size ten are going to have to be good enough for me. I was going to have to get to work on getting to work.
Thursday, I make a list of all the people