diminishing. More emphatically
than before, Katie motioned them to be quiet, rapidly waving her hands up and
down.
“I hope they can handle whatever it is,” Bill said. “I’m in
too much pain to do any work from home today.”
“They can handle it. I know they can handle it,” Katie
stated. “They will soon have everything under control, I’m sure.” She glared at her coworkers, and the laughter died
away completely. “Are you taking anything for your pain?” she asked Bill.
“Just some codeine,” he said. “Linda gave me a bottle of
ginseng or something like that, which I threw in the drawer with all the other
bottles she’s given me. That stuff doesn’t work. She wanted to poke some
needles in me, too, but I’m not her voodoo doll.”
“You should get some rest,” Katie told him. “That’s the best
thing. I hope you feel better.”
“I do feel better,” he asserted. “I’m not talking to Linda
anymore.”
The others erupted into laughter again, and Katie took her
phone off the speaker, talking through the receiver to wrap up the call with
Bill.
Little work was accomplished in the office that morning,
because Claire, Debbie, and Matt were busy envisioning different scenarios
under which Bill was injured and Linda victorious, each possibility becoming
more preposterous than the last. With such a fertile topic, their jokes and
conversation flowed in a torrent of nonstop hilarity.
Meanwhile, Katie, who appeared to be working, continued to
communicate all the momentous details of her weekend to her friends, with far
greater precision and thoroughness than she ever exerted on duties that she was
officially paid to do. She considered her morning quite productive and just as
enjoyable as that of the others. Although she was the youngest employee in the
office, she judged herself to be the most mature. “They’ve been laughing about
the old guy all morning,” she wrote to a friend. “They think they’re better
than him, but I don’t see it. They obviously can’t find anything better to do
than talk about him.”
Chapter 13
Toward the end of the week, Bill was able to return to the
office, although his mobility was still greatly impaired by the injury to his
back.
He was careful to avoid any discussion of the hiking
incident with his coworkers. He feared that, if he was drawn into a conversation about the event, he would soon slip and explicitly
state that he had been with Linda, although he had told them that he was not
going to see her again. He was afraid they might find out she had forced him to
walk until exhaustion in the rain, and that she wouldn’t even carry his
backpack after he fell. He did not want to say that he had had to abandon the
backpack in the woods, because his injured back could not support the weight;
it had been impossible for him to hold it, since the only way he was able to
hobble to the car was by gripping a sturdy branch with both hands on which he
could lean to stay upright. He did not want to mention that her refusal to
shoulder the backpack was a second injury that he could never forgive; it was practically
a new backpack, purchased within a year, and losing it was the main reason he
was not speaking with her. He could not overlook such a deliberate waste of his
money. That was a deep blow, causing more lasting pain than the fall. (To be
fair to Linda, it must be admitted that the piece of luggage had been deeply
discounted when he bought it, because it was poorly constructed and a hideous
florescent green. Only someone like Bill, who cared most of all about the
purchase price, would have thought the backpack worth buying in the first
place.) To preserve his self-respect and, to a lesser extent, avoid remembering
the lost backpack, he felt he had to maintain as much secrecy about the day as
possible among his colleagues.
When anyone asked what had happened to him, and his
coworkers were persistent in asking, especially Matt, who kept trying to
than before, Katie motioned them to be quiet, rapidly waving her hands up and
down.
“I hope they can handle whatever it is,” Bill said. “I’m in
too much pain to do any work from home today.”
“They can handle it. I know they can handle it,” Katie
stated. “They will soon have everything under control, I’m sure.” She glared at her coworkers, and the laughter died
away completely. “Are you taking anything for your pain?” she asked Bill.
“Just some codeine,” he said. “Linda gave me a bottle of
ginseng or something like that, which I threw in the drawer with all the other
bottles she’s given me. That stuff doesn’t work. She wanted to poke some
needles in me, too, but I’m not her voodoo doll.”
“You should get some rest,” Katie told him. “That’s the best
thing. I hope you feel better.”
“I do feel better,” he asserted. “I’m not talking to Linda
anymore.”
The others erupted into laughter again, and Katie took her
phone off the speaker, talking through the receiver to wrap up the call with
Bill.
Little work was accomplished in the office that morning,
because Claire, Debbie, and Matt were busy envisioning different scenarios
under which Bill was injured and Linda victorious, each possibility becoming
more preposterous than the last. With such a fertile topic, their jokes and
conversation flowed in a torrent of nonstop hilarity.
Meanwhile, Katie, who appeared to be working, continued to
communicate all the momentous details of her weekend to her friends, with far
greater precision and thoroughness than she ever exerted on duties that she was
officially paid to do. She considered her morning quite productive and just as
enjoyable as that of the others. Although she was the youngest employee in the
office, she judged herself to be the most mature. “They’ve been laughing about
the old guy all morning,” she wrote to a friend. “They think they’re better
than him, but I don’t see it. They obviously can’t find anything better to do
than talk about him.”
Chapter 13
Toward the end of the week, Bill was able to return to the
office, although his mobility was still greatly impaired by the injury to his
back.
He was careful to avoid any discussion of the hiking
incident with his coworkers. He feared that, if he was drawn into a conversation about the event, he would soon slip and explicitly
state that he had been with Linda, although he had told them that he was not
going to see her again. He was afraid they might find out she had forced him to
walk until exhaustion in the rain, and that she wouldn’t even carry his
backpack after he fell. He did not want to say that he had had to abandon the
backpack in the woods, because his injured back could not support the weight;
it had been impossible for him to hold it, since the only way he was able to
hobble to the car was by gripping a sturdy branch with both hands on which he
could lean to stay upright. He did not want to mention that her refusal to
shoulder the backpack was a second injury that he could never forgive; it was practically
a new backpack, purchased within a year, and losing it was the main reason he
was not speaking with her. He could not overlook such a deliberate waste of his
money. That was a deep blow, causing more lasting pain than the fall. (To be
fair to Linda, it must be admitted that the piece of luggage had been deeply
discounted when he bought it, because it was poorly constructed and a hideous
florescent green. Only someone like Bill, who cared most of all about the
purchase price, would have thought the backpack worth buying in the first
place.) To preserve his self-respect and, to a lesser extent, avoid remembering
the lost backpack, he felt he had to maintain as much secrecy about the day as
possible among his colleagues.
When anyone asked what had happened to him, and his
coworkers were persistent in asking, especially Matt, who kept trying to
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