"I bet Mike won't make it into work today."
"Oh, yeah?"
"He wasn't feeling too well."
"I would've given him some aspirin," Debbie said. She loved the chance to give her young staff member aspirin, to get him breakfast at the coffee shop downstairs, and set it up for him, coffee, bagel with cream cheese ("bagel C.C.," he called it), at his desk.
"He went and bought aspirin. He took it with a Coke," Amanda said incredulously.
"I woulda given him some! He doesn't know that? Aspirin with Coke?!"
"He got a stomachache," she continued. "I told him you're not supposed to do that. He said, 'You're not?'"
They walked into the office, Debbie sporting Amanda's lovely pink sweater dress. Amanda had kidnapped her the night before, unexpectedly asking her to sleep over at the last minute.
"Michael won't be in today. He's sick," Elyse said unnecessarily.
Amanda and Debbie laughed. Elyse looked up questioningly.
"Debbie," Elyse whispered. "Are you wearing a slip?"
"What? No. I was going to buy some nylons. I know," Debbie nodded. The panty line a sweater dress created was not a good idea in this office.
"Well, buy them now," Elyse said.
She was so exhausted from getting up at five in the morning. Was it worth it to Amanda, living way out on the Island? All her childhood years, Debbie would stare across the Sound to the invisible land mass she nonetheless knew lay ahead: Long Island. She had never seen it until one day two years ago when she first moved to New York.
"I called him. He wasn't home." Amanda had just come back from lunch.
"I was going to tell you to call him." Debbie said. And she was. She knew that Mike was feeling depressed because Amanda told her last night. But still, she wanted to be the one to make the suggestion.
"Nope. He wasn't home. Whoever it is must be enjoying his company today."
Debbie frowned. Amanda had once said that her face told a story. She knew as well as Amanda that he was sick! Why did Amanda have to say that? It made her burn up inside. She knew he was sick. He was probably just sleeping over a friend's house. But it made her mad. Why did she tell her he wasn't home?
"Well, I don't envy her," Debbie said hotly.
The phone rang.
"Is Steve there?"
"He's away from his desk. Can I take a message?" Debbie recited.
"Debbie. It's Mike."
"Oh. Hi, Mike," she said furiously to the phone. Mary looked at her. "How are you feeling," she quickly added.
"Better. I've been crashing all morning." His voice sounded nasal, as if he had a cold. She imagined him in blue and white striped pajamas.
"You...have?" Debbie started to giggle, slowly, giddily and carefree, into the phone.
"Is Steve there?" Mike sounded hurt, confused.
"No. He left to meet with the cable TV man," she said cheerily.
"Some people have such a rough life," Mike said.
"Yeeah," Debbie said, giggling breathlessly. "Yeah."
"Is Amanda there?"
"Um. She tried to call you!"
"She did?" His voice was full of faint hope.
"Sheee sure did!" Debbie said.
"Is she around?"
"Um. I don't know. Hold on."
Debbie ran into Amanda's office.
"Mike's on the phone," she said and transferred him directly to Amanda.
0735D/Fall 89
