Earshot

I work for a major insurance company. Our slogan: We Care About You. I never could understand how a silly slogan like that was picked as the best possible way to represent our company but I didn’t say anything. Who am I to judge? I just wish I was there to see the other slogans that were eliminated to pick this one. I work in a sea of cubicles. I wear a tie everyday. I drink a lot of coffee. I come to work late and leave early. I never work through my lunch break. Same shit, different day.

Today was a little different.

She was a plus-sized woman in her late 30s with silken hair that fell over her shoulder. She had one of those hip haircuts that all the younger women were getting – the one with all the layers and colors. A sparkling diamond necklace clung to her neck and fell into her mountain range of cleavage. She was wearing a pink sweater and gray pants. She kind of reminded me of my sister…or a human version of Miss Piggy.

She was sitting in the corner and weeping. It started quietly – a muffled stream of whimpers into the crook of her elbow. Soon though, her eyes layered and fogged over with growing tears. Emotion swam through her cheeks turning them a glistening pink as those growing tears slid their way their way down her chin. Soon, the muffled whimpers escalated into full-blown sobs.

I had no idea who she was.

We all looked at each other, unsure as to whether or not we should approach her. Jimmy looked at me and I shrugged. He tilted his head to the side, just like my Pug used to do and mouthed the words, ‘C’mon. Say something.’ I shook my head ‘no’ and looked down at my desk. The Johnson report was looking back at me and I pretended, briefly, to give a damn. I glanced at my watch. 10:09AM. This was going to be one long day.

The sobbing increased as she drew her hands to her face and wiped some of the tears off. She threw her face into her hands, sobbing louder. I tried not to look at her, trying desperately to avoid eye contact.

Then Marge, who sits on my left, coughed kind of awkwardly. She coughed three times before I glanced over at her. When I turned to her, she gave me ‘the look.’ The look that says, 'Will you do something?!' Her eyes were piercing. She mouthed the words ‘talk to her’ but I shook my head glumly and looked back at my desk. A few new emails had come in, so I began to click through them.

Jimmy cracked his knuckles and my head perked up. He was looking right at me with wide gaping eyes. Jimmy was a Latino man with silky black hair and those dreamy eyes – the kind that nab all the ladies. The look he was giving me was not, in the least bit, dreamy. He moved his hands 'Go! Go!' and I kind of just disregarded it and tried to pretend that I was working. I started chirping keys on the keyboard, flicking the mouse, eyes blank as my screen filled up with nonsense words I had typed mindlessly. I tried my best to look busy.

The woman in the corner blew her nose. She sounded really congested with snot and tears. I winced as the blowing continued. She wiped her tears, marching through a pile of tissues all the while sobbing louder than ever before. I glanced over at her from the corner of my eye. Her lips were pursed and twitching and her eyes were staring vacantly at the computer screen.

“Rich.” Marge whispered to me.
“What?” I whispered back.
“Say something to her, will you?”
“No.”
“But you’re the closest to her. Help her out.”
“No.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“I don’t even know her. Just because I’m sitting the closest to her doesn’t mean I have to speak to her. You say something to her if you care so much.”

I suddenly realized I wasn’t talking in a whisper anymore. I was talking at my regular speaking voice. I also realized I didn’t care. I looked over at the woman in the corner and she was staring right at me.

“I’m sorry you’re upset. But would you mind keeping it down? You’re disturbing me and my coworkers. We have a job to get done here.”

She was wiping tears from her face. The vacancy in her eyes was replaced with disgust. Her lips were pursed tight like she had tasted a lemon. She sniffled and shook her head at me. I could feel the weight of Jimmy and Marge’s stares.

Quickly, I looked back at my computer screen. I was composing an email addressed to no one. In the body of the email was a mess of words, “her Jdkdkd help her kiwwiksisk cmon ksisk she need u ldheh oh hskie do it keihshe”