Skeeter
I Slowly Sit Up On The Edge of my bead and stretch my aching back that has been hurting since last night. My feet are swollen, my hair looks like a rag, and I feel like the bottom half of me just can't catch up with the top but it was perfect. The best fun I had in a couple weeks actually. In New York there are a fair share of parties, but this one was amazing. I can still see me swinging around the room on David's arm. He's the accountant for Harper and Row publishing and man can he dance. I swear he swung me around so fast and so smooth you would have thought I was on skates. One thing is for sure, I definitely don't miss Mississippi.
I stumble to the kitchen and put on a cup of coffee which doesn't take but two seconds considering how small my apartment is. The broker said it was large for a New York apartment, but I think he was lying. I straiten up my flannel pajamas and lean my elbow on the counter. I'm so exhausted my fist almost goes strait into my eye socket.
Why cant this thing go any faster? I think. I mean it doesn't do much the rest of the day, why can't it just give me what I need to get through the day a little bit quicker?
As soon as it's done I pour myself a cup and let the hot liquid warm me up until everything from my ears to my toes are tingling. I instantly feel more awake and most of the aches have become barley noticeable. Although it's very good I find myself adding a teaspoon of sugar and reaching into my small refrigerator to pour a little milk into my mug. As I put it back stare at the invitation stuck to its green metal coating.
You are cordially invited to celebrate
the wedding of
Rebecca Leigh Clark
and
Carlton Luis Phelan
On Sunday afternoon
April the 15th
at five o'clock
Twenty-three Brayer Street
followed by a reception
I take off the magnet, flip it around, and stick it back on. I am not looking forward to that. It's not that I don't want to go home really, it's that I don't want to go back to everything else that come with it. Hilly spreading lies about me and causing me, seeing Stuart after what happened between us, and Mama nagging me about, well, everything. I hear she's getting better though. I can see it in her letters. They said almost a year and a half ago now that she only had a few weeks left. I guess mama was right, she had decided not to die.
I exhale deeply and blow a few curly stray hairs out of my face, only to have them reappear a few second later. I sigh, setting down my coffee, and walk over to my closet. Since arriving in New York mama doesn't trust me enough to buy my own clothes so she sends me new ones every couple months. Usually I just keep the ones I like and sell the ones I don't, which is a lot.
I pluck a tight fitting purple tweed knee length shirt and a white cap-sleeve shirt with a satin bow hanging from the neckline. My hair has grown a couple inches longer in the past months, enough that I can finally twirl it up in a bun, so I do. I take my ratty slept on hair, brush it and twist it so hard that by the time I stick the pin in it to hold it together my hair almost looks normal. I take my new black handbag and fill it with everything I need for the day and I'm almost about to close the door when the phone rings.
Ugh, it's always just as soon as I'm out the— "Hello?" I ask picking up the phone.
"Put it on channel three," she says. I can tell it's Aibileen.
Since moving to New York we haven't talked much, just a couple times to catching up. It's easier than before though because people in New York they don't judge.
I walk up to the television and turn the knob to channel three, the phone still in my hands. As soon as I do all I can see is the cover. The cover of our book. I can't help but smile a little. It's been reviewed a couple times but recently the number of copies has started going up. "And today we announce that the book sweeping the nation, Help, has now made it onto of the New York Times best sellers list," he says with a wide smile that seems to cover almost his entire face. "So make sure to grab your copy today folks. They're flying off the shelves."
"Did you hear? It's on the best sellers list," Aibileen says so excited. I can't help but giggle a little myself.
"Yeah, I heard. So how things going down there?" I ask.
"Okay as they'll ever be," she sighs. "How's out there? You hav'n fun?"
"Oh, loads of it, Aibileen. Crystal chandeliers, colored televisions, and parties all the time. I haven't written this much in my entire life."
"Well good. We'll see you in a week."
"Sure, bye, Aibileen."
"Bye, Miss Skeeter."
My Slim Black Leather High heeled shoes clack on the black and white marble floor as I walk in the lobby of Harper and Row. Stanley, the front desk security man, greets me as I pass by and tries to start a conversation but I'm already in a rush. I've only got two minutes to get up to the seventh floor and into my Monday morning meeting. I press the button and to the elevator and tap the toe of my shoe over and over and over until the door slides open. I step inside its silver chamber and press the floor button,, but just as soon as the door is about to close someone yells from the lobby.
"Wait! Hold the door!"
I roll my eyes and stick my arm in front of the door causing it to bounce back. He quickly runs in and starts panting so hard it takes him a good minute to push his floor. When he finally lifts his head from in between his knees I register his face. It's David.
"Hey, Skeeter," he says giving me a charming smile. "So, what did you do last night?" he says swaying towards me.
"Why don't you guess," I tease.
"Well I know I had an amazing time with this one girl..." He looks over at me causing my cheeks to turn red. "...but I don't think she's that interested."
"And why not?" I ask going on with the charade.
"I honestly don't know. I'm very charming you know."
I let out a quick laugh as I feel my cheeks turning bright pink. "And very modest I see."
He laughs. "So, what do you say? Dinner tonight?"
"Sure," I reply smiling slightly.
A bell rings as we hit his floor. The doors open and he smiles. "I will see you at eight then," he says trying to do his best at an English accent. I smile and he returns it before the door shuts in one smooth glide.
The Seventh Floor Of Harper and Row is not a quiet place. Writers, secretaries, editors, and assistants fill the room. Row after row of well dressed men sitting in their desks editing papers, women clumped around the isles with their done up hair and cigarettes dangling between two fingers while catching up with the morning gossip, and extras run around.
I walk up to Miss Davidson's office and unlock the door for her because she always forgets her keys. Then I go to the coffee station, making sure to sift through all the bimbo's gossiping about what everyone did over the weekend. I take a Styrofoam cup and fill it three-fourths of the way before adding cream, sugar, and cinnamon. Just as I'm about to turn away Bethany taps me on the shoulder and almost makes me spill it.
"Jesus Christ! You scared me!" I say flicking her arm and smiling. Since moving to New York Bethany and me have become good friends. She is a petite brunette secretary from Ohio. She's a little more frilly than me, but unlike most of the other girls here she cares about her work.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she says as we both try to weave our way through to the isle. Today she's wearing a kelly green knee length tweed skirt with matching cropped pea coat and floral scarf. Her smooth short cut chocolate brown hair is pulled up into a bouncy pony tale and secure with a royal blue bow. "I just wanted to know what happened with David."
"How are you so sure anything happened?" I ask trying to come off as coy.
"Because I know you. You look like you're like glowing or something... plus everyone in the office is talking about it."
"What?" I ask sinking down into my seat surprised, although I really shouldn't be. News travels faster here. I remember a couple months ago everyone
knew that Julia from accounting was pregnant even before she did.
"Yeah, so anyways, what happened?" she asks resting her elbow on my desk and leaning in close to me. Her fake eyelashes flutter with excitement.
"Oh, Bethany, it was amazing. I saw him at this party last night and we ended up dancing for the rest of the night. Then today in the elevator and he asked me to dinner."
Her eyes grow large and her mouth drops open but she quickly closes them. "I'm so happy for you. This will be good for you. But, hey, what about your brother's wedding? It's in a week, right?"
"Yeah, I am so not looking forward to that mess. Your lucky your from Ohio."
Miss Davidson walks into her office clacking in her bright blue skinny high heeled shoes. I grab her coffee and rush in behind her, making sure not to spill any on the way. She drops her large black leather bag off the tips of her fingers and into my arms as she makes her way to her desk.
"Good morning Miss Davidson," I say trying to be cheery. She's never in a good mood on a Monday.
"So what's going on with the Newman project?" she says slowly placing her bottom in her large paisley printed armed wingback chair behind her desk and taking the coffee from my hands.
"They're sending over the trademarking papers today. It should all be settled by next week."
"Okay, and the writer who was supposed to review The Revenge of Martha Lee called is going to be out for the next three days, 'puking his brains out,' he said," she laughs as if it was an excuse she'd hear a million times before. "Anyways, it's due by tomorrow and on such short notice no writer in town will do it so I need you to write that by tomorrow morning."
"Me?" I ask surprised. I've written a few things since coming to New York, but they were all just minor articles of columns for some small magazines. This was going to be on the front of the entertainment section of the New York Times.
"Yes, you. Who else? Certainly not Max, or Mary. Ugh! Anyways, you've proven yourself, and Miss Stein had wonderful things to say about you. Whatever you did must have been good. Now get on it, " she says waving me out the door and taking a sip of her coffee. "And send Mindy in, will you?"