Alpine

Gambit 1 - Meeting

My attention was squarely set on the evergreen trees whizzing by the passenger side window. They were fitting for the season. However, early holiday spirit was not what kept me focused on the view. It was part of a defense mechanism.

Watching the snow and forest blend into white noise dulled my senses. That numbness was a safe space where I could almost forget myself. My circumstances. Almost. Switch was driving the car. That awful dread I always felt in his presence kept me from falling into blissful oblivion.

It still feels like I am being dramatic. When I was alone, it was easy to think I was overreacting to him. But there was no fooling myself when we were breathing the same air. Or his smoke.

I spared a glance at the central cup holder. His fresh carton of Crossroads cigarettes sat there unopened. We had been on the road heading northwest for twelve hours today and six the day before. In all that time, this supposed pack-a-day smoker had not taken a single goddamn hit. Not even during the five-minute stops every few hours to piss out coffee before chugging more down. It was like he had forgotten they were there.

That gave him too much benefit of the doubt though. Everything he did was calculated. From the clothes he wore to those well-timed smiles that never quite reached his eyes. Even that banter about trying to quit the cancer sticks. It was a ploy so ladies would think he was a lost soul they could save. No one saw in him what I had felt since the beginning: that well-practiced fakeness.

We met on my first day at the job. It was his fourth. We were supposed to start at the same time. The plane that should have brought me to my new life down south got grounded by an ice storm. One of those nasty ones that periodically swept down from Canada, crippling the northeast.

Shit like that was why I wanted to move south. No more power outages in freezing weather. No more falling on ice. And—the big one—no more driving to work in six inches of unplowed snow. Anyway, he was a local and finished training before I got into town. Amazing the difference three days can make.

In that time, he turned everyone into his best friend. He knew Clara's favorite Starbucks Frapachi-machiat-whatever-the-fuck. He knew the names and ages of Dave's four kids. He knew the scientific names of Janice's plants and had convinced her that he too was an aspiring botanist. I bet he had already hooked up with Ryan. Switch was the guy who figured out how to effortlessly unclog that infernal, 15-year-old dinosaur of a printer that smelled like burnt rubber and flaking paint.

And then I walk in. The dour, lanky northerner who talked too fast. The secretary did not understand who I was or what I wanted. The longer that awkward exchange went on, the more I felt the eyes of my future coworkers on me.

Look, I got testier with her than I should have. But anybody would get annoyed in my position! I also know people only believe that excuse when they know you. Not on first impression. I learned that the hard way back in college.

So. I took a long breath. I introduced myself slowly in a level tone for the fifth time. Finally, she understood why I was there. She handed over a key card to access the building on nights and weekends. She rattled off a few basic office courtesy rules. A heavy stack of forms thumped onto her desk. Business as usual.

As she made to stand to show me where my cubicle was, Switch hurried over. A natural blonde in top-of-the-line business casual. He looked more like a clothing model than an office peon. I panicked when I saw him, afraid I had walked in underdressed in my clean, but worn, button up and faded slacks.

A quick glance around the office calmed me. No one else was wearing brand-new digs with perfectly ironed creases. Switch gave his signature, sparkling-white smile as he said, "Bea, let me show him to his spot. You're busy, and I've been fixing to meet the other newbie."