A Room With A View

Chapter Twelve - Madeline

September 8th, Friday

Madeline clocked out at Dosser's and collected her paycheck. She smiled at Tim, her manager, and wished him goodnight. It was the end of the week, and Madeline was exhausted. She had pulled a double shift two nights in a row at Dosser's, and Cafe Clark had been surprisingly busy. Thankfully, it was just a short walk home.

Madeline hummed to herself as she trod carefully along the block's broken pavement. There had been construction on this stretch of road for over a year. Madeline had never actually seen the street uncovered. She wanted to find a foreman in a neon jacket and ask him, what more could possibly be done to this poor stretch of road?

But no workers were around, so Madeline matched her steps to the rhythm of the song, tapping a crack here, a fallen leaf there. She even twirled around the stoplight pole at the corner of the street.

There was a fat, new check in Madeline's pocket, and nothing could get her down. It had been payday at both Dosser's and Cafe Clark, meaning one more month at the Watley, one more month full of hope.

The lights twinkled in the lobby of her building as Madeline stepped inside. The air conditioner had been turned off for the first time that day, and Madeline actually welcomed the soft warmth of the foyer. Fall was creeping into Manhattan, and Madeline could feel the chill of it in the breeze outside.

"Good evening, Theodore," Madeline said brightly. The doorman nodded, his face split with a wide, toothy smile.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" she said, pausing by his desk.

"It's nice that it's not so hot," Theodore replied, pulling at his pressed collar.

Madeline agreed. She loved the fall. It always meant the holidays were coming, and everything became magical. People were happier, decorations appeared in windows, and sweaters were worn without a sweat. Madeline never knew how the other women around her remained so composed in the summer, while her own face sweated like melting wax. She would have to find a new foundation. Perhaps a powder.

"Is Phineas in?" she asked, tapping the paycheck on the desk.

Theodore nodded and Madeline left the foyer to find Phineas's office. The foyer seemed so grand compared to the service entrance. It was unexpectedly welcoming, as if it could sense the rent money Madeline had stashed in her pockets.

Madeline rapped three times on Phineas's office door before letting herself inside. Phineas was sitting at the carved wooden desk in a seemingly staged pose, his hands clasped before him. Madeline wondered if he practiced that look before a mirror.

"I have rent money!" she sang. She emptied her pockets onto the table, pulling out smashed rolls of cash, and tiny bags of coins. She had visited the ATM that morning, withdrawing all but $24.33 from her account. She'd deposit her paycheck tomorrow and fill it back up.

Phineas pursed his lips. He picked up a $50 bill with the tips of his fingers, as if he was afraid it carried a disease.

"Madeline," he began, setting the bill back down, "we need to talk."

Madeline sank into the chair across from the table. It was understuffed, causing Madeline to be eye level with the v of Phineas's sweater vest. She shuffled forward.

"About the flower garden? I think it's lovely," Madeline deflected.

Phineas closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"Phineas, if you're going to make a comment about the rent, I'm sorry. I know this is delayed, and I added in extra as a fee, but I have this really great audition lined up for tomorrow--"