Rekindled
Widowsfield
March 14th, 1996
“Hey there, Claire,” said Nancy as she came into the office. It was only a few minutes until her shift started, and she’d already been reprimanded for being late three times in the past month. The last thing she needed was to lose another job.
Claire was already in her seat with her headset on. She had the cubicle closest to the front door, which she said she liked because it gave her a chance to smile at everyone as they got to work. The sweet old woman tapped on her watch and smiled at Nancy.
“I know, I know, but I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not late.”
“You’d better hurry up and get to the time clock,” said Claire. She was a rotund, cheery old woman whose husband was a train conductor, a fact that Claire talked about endlessly. She was anxious for him to retire so that they could move to their ranch in Wyoming. Nancy had heard all about it, several times, since starting her job at the Widowsfield County Emergency Services Center.
Nancy threw her purse onto the desk in her cubicle across from Claire. The two of them sat with their backs to one another, and had been working the late shift together since the recent merger with Alden County. “Back in a minute,” said Nancy as she pat Claire’s shoulder.
“Get a move on, sweetie,” said Claire as Nancy ran down the hall to the break room where the time clock was located.
Nancy pushed past Darryl, who danced away with his coffee cup held high as he whistled at her. “Cutting it close, princess.”
“Shut up, Darryl,” said Nancy. She was a fan of coffee, but there was something amiss about the smell at three in the afternoon. Darryl was always drinking it, and the scent threatened to reset Nancy’s internal clock, convincing her that they were like everyone else and started their work day in the morning instead of late afternoon.
“Testy, testy,” said Darryl. “What was it this time, Nancy? A train? A funeral? An earthquake? You know Mike told us to clock in ten minutes early. Doesn’t matter if it’s not three yet, you’re already late.”
“Seriously, Darryl, shut it.” She dropped her card into the machine mounted on the wall and heard the robotic crunch as it stamped a hole in it. She breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled the card out and saw 2:58 printed on it. She waved the card in the air as if it were a Poloroid and then dropped it back into the metal sleeve beside the door. “Made it.”
“Like I said, you’re still going to get bitched out.”
“Well, whatever. Mike can go fuck himself. I had to deal with a sitter for my kid because something happened at the school and they shut down the afterschool program for the day at the last minute. My mom can’t pick him up until four, so unless Mike wanted me to let the kid wander the street for a half hour then I really didn’t have a choice. Now did I?”
“I don’t care about your sob story, darling,” said Darryl. He was a tall, obese man. He had no chin, and his neck seemed to extend from his chest to just under his lip. He had a beard, and tried to shave it to help make it appear as if he had a chin line, which just accentuated his turkey wattle.
“Then why’d you ask?” She slid past him, out of the break room and back into the hall.
He followed behind and sipped his coffee. “Just being nice. You should try it sometime. Doesn’t hurt to be affable, you know.”
“Thanks for the advice,” said Nancy as she got to her seat.
Darryl grumbled as he walked to his cubicle on the other side of the room.
“Don’t let him bug you,” said Claire without turning.
“I’m trying. He’s just so…”
“I know, I know. Some people get their jollies pushing other people’s buttons.” Claire finished logging onto her computer and then swiveled to look at Nancy. “I’ll tell you the best advice I ever got. It was from my grandma, way back in the dinosaur years when I was a kid. She sat me down after I got in a fight with a girl that made fun of my dress. We didn’t have much money, and I had to wear the same clothes for weeks at a time. My shoes had holes in them that we taped up, and baths were a once a week affair. No kidding, we were poor. Anyhow, this girl was giving me the what for, getting all the other girls to call me names, and I went and popped her. I got in pretty big trouble, cause back in those days us girls were supposed to be dainty little things. Not me, though. I was a firebrand for sure. Anyhow, my granny told me that there’re two different types of people in the world.” She held up one finger, “You’ve got the doers,” she held up a second finger, “and you’ve got the doubters.”
“Okay,” said Nancy as she faced away from Claire to log into her computer. She wasn’t trying to ignore the old woman, but she wasn’t exactly paying attention either. The station had been befitted with a new login system that utilized a faster modem, but it still seemed to take forever, and Nancy hadn’t gotten used to the interface yet.
“The doers are the people that give it a go. You know the type, the ones that get out there and make things happen.”
Nancy just nodded as Claire talked. The old woman rarely went five minutes without telling a story. It was a habit that had taken Nancy several months to get used to, but now the incessant chatter was actually something she looked forward to. On nights where the county stayed quiet, and no crimes or accidents were called in, it was nice to have someone like Claire, with a wealth of tales, ready to spin a yarn at a moment’s notice.
“And the doubters are the ones that get their self worth from pointing out the failure of others. I didn’t even really pay attention to her at the time, but when I grew up I saw what she meant.” Claire paused and reflected on her childhood. “Want to hear a dirty little secret?”
“Sure,” said Nancy, only half listening.
“I used to be a doubter. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. I used to be one of those catty old crows sitting around and picking at anyone that dared stir my ire. Hard to believe, I know, but it’s the truth. I loved gossip, and bought all those celebrity rags, spent my time chatting on the phone with other women about who was fat, who was gay, who was cheating on who, and all that nonsense. Waste of time, honey. That’s all that is. And you know what turned me around?”
“What’s that?”
“Cancer.”
Nancy stopped and looked back at Claire. She’d never heard anything about Claire suffering from cancer. “What do you mean?”
“Oh yeah, honey. I don’t talk about it much, but I had quite a cancer scare a few years back. Nothing will ever set you right like getting up close and personal with the grim reaper. After something like that, I’ll tell you, you just don’t have the gumption to be a doubter no more. I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, beat the disease, and started focusing on what’s important in life. It took me most of my years to finally pay attention to what my granny said, but I haven’t forgotten it since.”
Nancy was going to respond to what Claire said, but then she heard the beep of a new email as it showed up in her folder. She looked and saw that it was from her supervisor, Mike.
“Aw fuck,” she said as she opened the tersely worded email. “How did he know I was running late? He’s not even here.”
Claire rolled across the short gap between their cubicles. Her headpiece’s wire stretched to its limit as she looked at Nancy’s screen. “It’s the new system. He can track when you log in even when he’s at the headquarters in the other county.”
“But I punched in at three on the dot. Two minutes early actually,” said Nancy as she pointed down the hall at the break room.
Claire shook her head and pointed at the screen. “I’m talking about the computer. You’re supposed to log in ten minutes before your shift starts.”