The next day was Friday, and I just threw myself into my work in an effort to reach the weekend.  Olivia didn’t call or email, and I managed not to run into Zorah.  I checked in with Yvonne, but I didn’t camp in her office or unload my worries on her.

That afternoon, I went down to the lunchroom to get a cup of coffee.  Janie and Sondra were sitting together at a table, and when I came in they stopped talking and looked at me.  As I was pouring the coffee, I heard them whispering behind me.

As I turned to leave, Sondra, who never took anyone’s advice, said, “Hey, Tyler, I need your advice.”

I stopped and gave her a weary look.  “Yeah?”

“I’m doing an index for Olivia and I need to know if she’s in a good mood.  Is she on the rag?”

“How should I know?”

“I heard on Wednesday you had an up close and personal view,” said Sondra, while Janie broke out cackling.

Oh great, I thought, remembering Janie’s foot in the stall next to Olivia’s.  I stalked out of the lunchroom with as much dignity as I could muster.

Retreating to my office, my mind raced with trying to guess how many people Janie might have told, and how many might have believed her.  Avoiding Zorah was a minor hassle, but I couldn’t work in that office if everyone knew I was regularly being reduced to the size of a mouse.

I stayed in my office as much as I could, but near the end of the day I had to go to the file room to look at a case that was too old to have been scanned.  I went to the elevator lobby, looking over my shoulder at everyone who walked by as I waited.

The elevator arrived and as the doors opened, I caught the tail end of a conversation between Erin and Susan, a legal assistant who matched Erin in height.  Erin was smirking as she delivered her punchline:  “So I told him, ‘Sorry, I don’t date smurfs.’”

They both turned to look down at me.  Neither said anything or even changed expression, but I could see it in their eyes:  they knew.  They knew that while Erin’s rejected suitor might not have stood much higher than five feet, I had recently been the size of an actual smurf, and would be again.  They didn’t even have the good grace to be embarrassed as they passed me on their way out of the car.

I hid in the file room until it was time to go home for the weekend.

* * *

I don’t remember much from that weekend; I drank pretty heavily.  On Sunday night, as I poured myself the fourth whiskey of the evening, I told myself I would call in sick on Monday.

Curiously, I woke up the next morning with nothing more incapacitating than bad breath.  Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t come up with a good argument not to go into work, if only to feel less useless.

I got through most of the morning without anyone teasing me or dropping innuendo.  Even at the workload paralegal meeting, everyone was distracted by some trivial story Janie was telling about her cats.

Just before lunch, I went into the copy room to pull something off the printer.  I grabbed the pleading, but when I turned around the doorway was blocked by Zorah.  She was looking straight at me, and she had an evil grin.

I adopted an impatient manner and made to pass her by, but she got right in my face and said, “Enchilada!”

My bafflement was genuine as I tried to shoulder past her.  “Excuse me?” I said.

Zorah actually put her hand on my chest and repeated slowly, “En-chil-a-da.”

“The lunchroom is downstairs,” I said, nudging her out of my way and quickly strolling down the hall.

By the time I returned to my office, I had started to hyper-ventilate.  Yvonne came around the corner, and I caught her eye before going in and sitting at my desk.  She followed me in and closed the door behind her.

“Everyone knows Olivia used me like a tampon,” I said.  “Janie was in the next stall and she told everyone.”

“I know,” said Yvonne.  “She told me this morning before the meeting.”

“It’s worse than that.  Just now Zorah cornered me in the copy room and tried to use the shrinking word on me.”

“What do you mean, ‘tried’?”

“She came up to me and said, ‘Enchilada.’”

“’Enchilada’?” repeated Yvonne.  I tensed involuntarily, subconsciously expecting the approximated word to have more efficacy coming out of Yvonne’s mouth.  But nothing happened, and Yvonne just laughed at Zorah’s error.

“It’s not funny,” I said, my voice breaking.  “Eventually she’s gonna get it right.”

“I’m sorry,” said Yvonne, sobering instantly.

“Do you think she was eavesdropping?” I asked her.

“Oh, she probably figured out the trick of remotely activating the speakerphone in Olivia’s office.”

“But how did she get the idea that the word would work for anyone besides Olivia?” I asked, looking at Yvonne perhaps too sharply.

Her face iced over.  “What are you saying, Tyler?”

“I don’t know!” I exploded.  “This thing keeps changing every day, and it’s all I can do to keep on top of all the threats!”

“Are you saying you think I’m a threat?” she said evenly.

“No, I’m not,” I cried, shaking my head.  “You’re my only friend in this damn place, and. . . “ I started to deflate.

“And?” prompted Yvonne, her eyebrows raised not in skepticism but impatience.

I looked into her eyes for about three seconds before I replied, “And I trust you with my life.”

She paused, too, before allowing a kind smile to slowly expand across her face.  I knew it was the right thing to say, and it had the added virtue of being true.

My computer chirped with the receipt of an email.  I looked at the screen and said, “Oh, God, it’s Olivia.”

“What does she want?” asked Yvonne.

“It just says, ‘Please see me.’”

“Maybe she just needs you to review something.”

“Maybe,” I said, staggering to my feet.

“I’m sure that’s all it is,” she said, coming around the desk.  I clasped her hand and looked into her face.  I knew she was lying, and she knew I knew, but more importantly she knew I was grateful to her anyway.

“I better go,” I said.  Yvonne leaned forward and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then she disappeared back into her office.  It happened so fast I thought I had imagined it.