She sat with her comrades from the sales department in the corporate cafeteria. She clenched her hands to her sides in girlish apprehension. She tried to pay attention to what each person was talking about. But it didn't matter. They were here, they had just finished assembling the last of the information packages, "media kits," she called them, to mail to prospective customers. They could joke around and talk about anything or nothing at all.
"Debbie, do you usually cook or eat out?" Rob asked her.
"Well, at first I ate out, then I ordered in every night, then I cooked, and finally, I can't afford to do anything."
Everyone laughed.
"I always wondered if you ordered in every night."
"Oh, it's so expensive."
The talk turned to the apartments with more than one room, backyards, and who needed the City, anyway?
Debbie launched her description of life in the East Village. Two of the girls who worked in Circulation had lived in the Village all their lives and no one at the table could relate to it.
"Oh, but it was fun," Debbie said, and her eyes began to look far away. "We lived in this building right on the bus route. The bus used to squeeeeeak, come to a stop and then start again, all night long."
She paused, trying to recollect the flavor of the East Village, its sights and sounds, the feeling. She looked up at Mike, sitting across the table from her. His eyes had taken on a softness, as he gazed at Debbie, a look of longing on his young babyish face.
"Oooooh, I can't believe we lived like that," she managed to finish, startled by her co-worker's attention.
0522D
ALL THAT GLITTERS
Denise Hickey
Summer 88
