22- Under Pressure

Laura sat inside her dingy one bedroom apartment. The smell a mixture of mothballs and her neighbor’s dinner. She stared with no expression with the blank television in front of her. Opting instead to listen to the neighbors below her argue about who was going to be doing the dishes. The husband’s only response was that since his wife had made the dinner she would do best just to finish the job and do the dishes as well.
What a jerk, Laura thought to herself. What kind of man treats a woman he cares about like that? Laura sank back into her thick green sponge sofa and placed her hands in to her pocket. Her fingers pressed down her thighs until passing over a small folded piece of paper. She stopped and raised her eyebrow, as she questioned the contents of her pocket. She removed a small folded yellow piece of paper with a telephone number. Atop the number sat the name Rupert Dresden. Oh the little bird I wonder how he is? I hope I didn’t make him a crippled sparrow. Damn Feinman and those stupid nets. I wish that bird would’ve dropped something in his coffee.

For the entire time Laura had been interning at the museum there had been but one thorn in her side. This thorn greeted her daily, with quick sarcastic comments. He always knew just the thing to say to ruin a good mood or that oh so perfect time to say the wrong thing. He was special that way. The health problems that Herbert going through had caused Laura to begin to question her own mortality. Her nights had been filled with sour dreams and her days riddled with crushing realities. Herbert was going to die, she had basically spent her entire summer being the whipping post for a man whose only claim to power was a title and an abandoned broom closet with a nameplate on the door. Laura had tried to ignore it but inside of her there had formed deep wounds, and everyday at the museum Feinman’s quick jabs and low blows only tore them open leaving her exposed. She was battered and broken and was unsure of how much of him she could possibly stand.

Laura looked down at the number in her hand and back over to the answering machine. The answering machine light blinked red as it caught the corner of Laura’s right eye. She stood up and walked to the machine and looked down with a curious gaze. She bent down and pressed the play button. Her mother’s voice jumped out like a jack-in-the-box. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Guess who calling down here from old Siloam. Does it sound familiar? I’ve been trying to reach you but I can’t find you. Getting a little worried. Kiss, Kiss sweetie. Call your mom!” Laura could not have been more unprepared for the message. Her mother’s overjoyed tone felt like jagged steel nails being ripped across a chalkboard. Laura puckered her lips and winced as the voice mail finished as she tried to regain her composure.

“Well I’ve got to do this sometime. No better time than the present.” She encouraged herself aloud. Laura bent down and dialed the numbers. Only the last four digits of her mother’s phone number would not come to her memory. Odd, She thought. Has it really been that long since I called? Dialing the numbers made her feel like a prisoner making his walk to gallows to low hushed beat of a drum. Dum. Dum. Dum.
“Hey Laura!” The pedestal dropped beneath her feet and the rope pulled tight against her neck.
“Hey Mom, How goes it?” She said, short of breath.
“Well you know same old same old down here.” Laura’s mind drifted away to a train ride as her mother squawked and squealed. Laura came back to Earth as her mother’s long winded response started to wind down. Divorce talks and the city mayor’s were not issues that felt too pressing to Laura. Laura’s mother’s voice slapped her to attention. “Tell me about you my little paleontologist. Are things in the big city going well? Have you forgotten all about us Siloam folks?” Her fake forced Laugh sent chills down Laura’s spine. Despite her faults I know thatshe means well, Lauara reconciled. So here we go.
“Mom actually things aren’t going so hot up here.”
“Really sweetie? Tell me what’s up.”
“Mom literally everything that could go wrong at the museum is blamed on me. 2nd grade kid pees on an exhibit, my fault for letting him use the water fountain. A bird flies in the museum and poops on the exhibits, my fault for not having a gun and shooting it. My boss is quite possibly the coldest person I have ever met. You give someone like Feinman a title and a desk and watch the consequences. The man thinks he owns a red cape with an S on the back,” she vented.
“That is terrible. I once had a boss like that too.”
“Everyday no matter what my day starts with a lovely comment. If I’m five minutes early, he lets me know how surprised he is. Five minutes late he threatens to fire me. I’m to a breaking point here.”
Her mother’s voice was much smoother and seemed to harbor a different tone. “Honey, no one should talk to you like that, ever. You need to do what is right for you and what is going to make you happy,” her mother said.
“I know mom. I’m going to be strong though. I hope it will get better. There is something else too though.” Laura stopped and took a deep breath. She could feel herself tremble as she thought about Herbert lying in his bed.
“What. What is it?”
“It’s Herbert mom. There are some problems with-“
“Oh honey, drop that old sack of dirt. That whole thing is getting out of control.”
Laura’s eyes widened and turned fiery red. She removed the phone from her ear and slammed it down on the hook, breaking both the phone and answering machine.
Laura struggled to find sleep that night her thoughts filled with mortality, friendship, and regret. Her mother could not have picked a worse time. No one understands us, she thought. Our connection is beyond what any of these simple minded people can grasp. Sleep came through to Laura but short lived. Laura sat up in bed awoken by a hiss. As she followed the noise it became louder and louder. Finally she came to the source in her bedroom bathroom. She listened with the utmost attention hoping that the noise being spotted at its source would retreat. She looked down as she heard a gurgle from the depths of her sink. At that moment a loud pop similar to many of the fireworks John William had shot exploded beneath her sink.
The water did not stop until seven the next morning. The landlord would not be around until 8:30 the next morning. Laura reached for the phone to call the museum and tell them of her misfortune but was reminded only of her and her mother’s conversation the night before.

Laura slipped into the museum at 10 am. She was had not been able to shower, brush her teeth, or put on dry clothes. Laura stood there in the museum as physical representation of her inner self. She gave a half hearted wave to Eddie as she slipped into the T-Rex exhibit.
“Well.Well.Well.” The voice was recognized by Laura from the first syllable. In the back of Laura’s mind the drum began to beat again. Dum. Dum. Dum. Laura felt a twinge rise up her spine and blood rush to her fist. She spun around to face Feinman. Her eyes were wide, a mixture of anger and frustration. Exhaustion rested heavy against her brow and under her eye. “On time, and looking sharp as usual,” his sarcasm cut her wound. “No Herbert here to bail you out, or give you an excuse?” It felt like he was pouring salt atop the wound.
“Let me just stop you right there,” she said as the hair on her neck curled. I had a serious mechanical breakdown at my apartment last night. I haven’t been able to sleep for the last few days and now I can’t even shower or brush my teeth. I am sick of hearing what you have to say. Your sarcasm hurts. I think you are a joke and no one thinks your jokes are funny. Also I hope you know your office used to be a broom closet” Feinman stepped back speechless.
“I quit.’ Laura turned before Feinman had a chance to respond. Without thinking Feinman grabbed his clipboard and heaved it across the museum slamming it against the T-Rex’s hand’s causing it to fall and crack against the floor.
“That’s going to cost you a few years’ salary,” Eddie said from the corner of the room.
Laura bounded out of the museum and down the steps making her way to the hospital. She raced up the five flights of stairs to reach Herbert’s floor.