You know how sometimes in books there is a dream sequence? The words are all italicised and descriptions are given so graphically it's like you're almost there.
But the author doesn't tell you until the end of the page, the chapter, the book, that the moment was really not something that had occurred.
It was just a figment of imagination.
A fantasy.
And it screws things up, changes your interpretation of the novel.
I'll tell you now that this isn't a dream.
It's cold out, and I try to let that distract me from the nervous tingle in the pit of my stomach.
'Don't watch the clock,' I warn myself. It won't help any.
I notice that the ground is a dusty brown, slightly moist from a recent rain. The white home plate feels uncomfortable as I dig my feet into the ground, trying to disappear.
I reach up with one hand to pat down my troublesome hair, instantly feeling strange that I felt no wig, it was just my natural hair. I was just me; a twenty-five year old copy-editor for the New York Times, and proud of it.
The sky has settled into darkness, yet I have a lifetime to get through before I can rest.
My eyes dart up again, and I catch the gaze of Elizaveta and Roderich in the crowd. They look happy, clapping and yelling as I stand isolated by height and distance. A baseball field never seemed so unfriendly.
But I try to smile, despite all this, because I can see the white flashes of light and know that pictures are being taken.
More headline news?
Others are here too, people I'd never expect to be on my side for something like this. Francis' arm is brushing against Mattie's, and I can tell she is biting back a grin, still looking earnestly at me with soft violet eyes of encouragement. Strangers are here as well, cheering me on as if I was a well-known friend. The only way they could have heard about this was from the article... and I honestly hadn't expected so many people to read it.
It only mattered if he read it, if he picked it up and saw what I had wrote, the message I had left for him.
Now I was the centre of so many people's attention, but all that mattered was his...
I'll tell you this; I wasn't always this way. I'm the type of person to go unnoticed, to be ignored.
I wasn't the most popular boy in secondary school. The only time I got consideration was when I was sought out for being a victim bullying. I didn't have good looks, or a stellar personality, just thick eyebrows and a habit for correcting grammar mistakes.
Not much has changed , and you could hardly pick me out of a crowd two months ago...
As stated earlier, I am a copy-editor for the New York Times, the youngest, actually. I made my way into the building and was instantly called for by a rushing assistant.
"Meeting in twenty, Room Four C," She told me as she whizzed by, handing me a coffee as I continued to my office.
"Got it," I cried after her, but I am sure it went unheard in the hustle and bustle of the morning rush. I decided to take the stairs, since the elevators were crammed and I didn't want to interact with more people than necessary.
When I finally made it to my own floor, I saw that Feliciano was actually at his desk today. It's an extreme rarity for my assistant to be on task.
Apparently, I spoke too soon.
"Hey, hey Arthur, I gotta new cat, do you want to see the pictures?" His eyes were closed, as they always were, and a blissful smile graced his lips. He'd be quite a nice friend if he wasn't so easily distracted by random shit.
"Maybe later, I'm a little busy right now. Did you manage to get the papers I asked for? From the Travel people?" After receiving a blank look, I added, "Ninth floor... I requested it yesterday."
"Oh, that!"
I took that as a sign that he hadn't done what I'd asked of him. With a weary sigh, I made my way into my office.
I try to keep it neat and organised, and the colour-coded stacks of papers, manila folders, and sticky notes placed across the room attest to that.
I reached behind my swivel chair and pulled the blinds, letting the sunlight stream and in and brighten my day...
… which seemed to be ruined only seconds later, as I heard my door slam closed and looked up to see my best friend hopping eagerly on her feet.
"Yes?" I tried to look back out the window, at the breathtaking view of city, but her impatience demanded my full attention.
"Guess what I just found out?"
"Something to do with the new guy who works here?" I figured that had to be it, because she had been obsessing over him for quite a while.
"Gah! How'd you know?" With genuine disappointment, she threw herself onto my desk, scattering my carefully placed assignments.
"You've been talking about it for a while," I huffed as I darted after the falling papers.
"The guy which works here is from Germany! Can you believe it?"
I smiled at her now, giggling to myself.
"What I can't believe is that you used which! Silly, who is the subjective relative pronoun that you should have used," I was nearly in a fit of kind hearted laughs now, "Which would be referring to a thing or a concept! And I'm pretty sure the hunk in Opinions is a person." I wiped a tear from my eye to look into confused green eyes.
"You worry me sometimes, dear Arthur."
"I'll have you know my sense of humou-" Before I could finish my retort, Roderich entered, throwing a stack of papers on my desk with a murmur of, "Need it by noon." He cast a hurt glance to Elizaveta, then walked out.
After the door closed I leaned over her, as she was still resting on my desk.
"What did you do to him?" Suspicion dripped from my voice, which she noticed and looked guilty for.
"I invited him to a threesome." She replied, as if that were the most normal thing in the world to ask a person.
"God, are you serious?" I turned away from her, sighing dramatically as I finished re-organising the articles she had knocked over.
"That's not the bad part..." Elizaveta murmured.
I waited for her to go on, wondering what she could have possibly done to make something like that worse.
"The worst part was the other people invited were Feli and the cutie from Opinions. I hear his name is Ludwig or somethin'."
She said the last part so nonchalantly that I could only stare at her in disbelief.
"You crushed that man's soul!"
"It's not that bad, I would have watched eagerly." A sly waggle of eyebrows came with her words.
"And Feli? Really?"
"His moans are a dream."
A fond blush covered her face.
Fortunately, the time saved me from having to respond to that last sentence. "Crikey , Eli, we better hurry to the meeting, we've only got three minutes!"
She let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a snort and a scoff, but I dragged her out of my office anyway, preferring not to get caught in the crowded offices again.
"Is it insane of me to imagine that this is the meeting in which I'd get my first piece?" I wondered aloud.
"Yes, it's insane because you're a copy-editor, not a writer." Roderich was joining us on the lift, smoothing his perfectly gelled hair into place.
"I could be a writer though." I objected indignantly, "It'd be amazing to become a journalist…"
He just looked at me with a sad smirk, "Don't get your hopes up kid."
Not like I'd support America in any way, but ever since I came here as a guy fresh out of college, ready to be thrust into the real world, people have been telling me this was the place for big dreams, for lucky chances. I had a right to hope that something like that could happen to me, and you better believe no repugnant wanker was going to piss on my aspirations.
"I'm not a kid, and just because you're my boss doesn't mean you get to crush my hopes." I snapped half-heartedly, mindful of the latter part of the sentence.
Elizaveta covered up a laugh with a fit of coughs, causing another glare from Roderich.
Thankfully, the doors opened and we were joined by many others as the editorial staff made their way to the meeting.
People from the other floors were in there as well, including the German man, whom Eli sent a knowing wink to the second their eyes met.
I chose a seat beside her, and waited patiently for the editor-in-chief to come in.
Bloody nora, how I hated that man. How everyone hated that man!
He ran us with the constant fear of being fired, and that's what probably what would happen today.
A smile was on Mr. Braginski's face, his signature smile. It offered no comfort or warmth, only left you chilled and waiting. "Month of the last we had a wonderful piece by Gupta, da?"
Everyone nodded, a few applauded him, and all were shocked from the unexpected praise.
"Too bad USA Today has published something like that, only better, we will have to be letting Gupta go."
The clapping stopped and awkward silence filled the room as the Egyptian journalist dejectedly picked up his folder and left the room.
"Good-bye Gupta, and hello Ludwig." The smile was still there, and now it was turned to the newest journalist. God have mercy on his soul.
"I think we are going to enjoy the changes with a new, undercover article." His shifty amethyst gaze darted across the room, the smile leisurely perched upon his face.
"I got this idea from a program on the television. You've all seen pregnant teenage shows, da?"
Quick nods all around the room; I joined in.
"Well, I was interested in the girls, all the drama they cause! Haha, silly girls. Now, what is it really like being a mother and a student?"
It was a rhetorical question and wisely, none of us answered.
"So I, thinking to myself, I thought how interesting it would be to get a close up story about this," he looked up thoughtfully, and the Russian editor's smile grew, "My Semester as a Mother and Student."
A chocked cry, "You want one of us to get pregnant and go back to school?"
"No, silly, try listening to my words." His voice was airy enough, so no one feared another person getting laid off, "I mean someone goes undercover as a student, and gets perspective from all different types of students and what they go through."
This idea sounded better, but many were still nervous. I felt relaxed in my chair, and turned my head to Elizaveta, realising it was a mistake as she had been intently gazing at a picture of two men kissing.
I elbowed her in the stomach to draw her attention, hissing, "I thought I was the gay one."
She just smirked and awkwardly linked our elbows together.
"You, what is your name?"
I jumped slightly in my seat and prayed to God that I wouldn't get fired because honestly, I assumed that my whisper had been heard.
"A-Arthur Kirkland, sir."
"Aldo, your semester in high school starts Friday. Time to leave now," He begins packing up to leave while I could only meekly call out that my name is, in fact, Arthur, not Aldo. But I was too busy being shocked to care much anyway.
Other people began packing up, and all of a sudden I just bolted. Straight to the men's restroom, barely suppressing the urge to run.
"Arthur, wait up!" I heard Elizaveta yelling for me, and I was too breathless with the intense feeling of fulfilment to turn around, or to call back.
I pushed the doors open and collapsed to the ground, not minding much about the fact that I was wearing my really nice trousers that day.
"Arthur," She had finally caught up with me, entering the opposite gender's restroom as if it was no big deal, "I don't think you should take the job."
I was crestfallen. My gut felt tight, and I felt as if I were being squeezed by some invisible force. "What- what do you mean?"
"I mean that it's a really tough article, 'specially for a first piece. You saw what he did to Gupta. And Gupta was really good."
"Are you saying I'm not really good?" I asked quietly, my eyes trained on her mouth as I waited for her next words.
"Look, that wasn't what I meant." She said, trying to sooth the hurt in my voice, "I'm just saying that maybe you should let this assignment go."
Roderich opened the door, threw another squint at Eli and then turned towards me.
"Don't worry, kid, I'll fix this mess."
Then it hit me.
I began to shake my head slowly, at first not realising how to put it into words, but now I knew what they were trying to imply.
"You guys don't think I can do it."
"Now look-"
"I didn't mean-"
I cut them both off, too irritated to bother with politeness.
"Elizaveta, when you asked me to help find all the gay guys in this building, who organised a list for you?"
She looks at the ground and mumbled, "You did."
"And Mr. Edelstein, who helped you embroider that pillow for your grandmother because you were too cheap to get a professional?"
He sighed, seeing my point. "You did."
"I've helped you through times of need. I asked no questions," Elizaveta started to say something but I cut her off again, "Well, maybe a few."
I looked up at both of them, sincerity and determination pouring through my eyes like a mother fucking rainbow.
"Now it's my turn."
Based on the hilarious movie Never Been Kissed
Tell me what ya think?
Beta'd by the completely awesome RamenNoodlesXD
~HarponMOO
