The room
smelled like Goodwill, stuffy and stale, like mildewed articles of clothing,
long forgotten in the basement, stored away for decades in a sealed box, mashed
down by elementary English books and a sickly pink painted clown. Pearl grimaced in sorry recognition.
The Temp-to-Perm Employment Agency ill-named Command Center,
paralleled her past insufferable experiences, with idealist job placement
representatives and a lame reception. One young man scribbled furiously at the
sole oblong, marred table, tossed in the lobby without much thought to
professional decor. A Social Security Card and current driver’s license were draped
alongside the application. The nose earring may have been an unwelcomed
addition to his wrinkled grey t-shirt and once black jeans, dripped with dried
olive green paint. He never glanced-up from the ten page document. The intent was
to get a low paying, labor-intensive job, requiring him to show up at 5:30a.m.,
for roll call. “Desperate people do desperate things,” thought Pearl, “and I am
certainly in that category if I stay here.” She approached the counter projecting
greater glee than she felt in her weepy, despondent heart.
Pearl was
much more of a creature of habit than she cared to admit. She didn’t like
having to get up earlier than usual, shower, wash and put up her long hair, don
professional attire, and head out of the house to hunt for a job. She has been
told women in their 50;s are un-hirable. Fantastic. Her tendency to cop a
righteous attitude when reminded of that,
usually got the best of her.
When the
fat twenty-something woman printed off a substantial application for her to
fill-in, and only then inquired as to whether Pearl had brought two forms of ID
with her, Pearl scowled in frustration. “No, it would have been nice if you had
mentioned that ten minutes ago, when I called to ask about your application
process.” The incompetent employee just shrugged and said “As if,” without as
much as a sincere apology. Pearl flounced out the door with the Application for
Employment Form and suggested she would be back the following day. Pearl
screeched out of the parking space (they didn’t even have the decency to own a
parking lot, she had to risk stopping on the busy street) and vowed she would
never return, knowing if she could not be the Manager and whip that office into
shape, she would begrudge working for them. Why would she be content with that
sort of a firm, representing her talents and skills?
Home felt
like a cage then, inept and soft, walls soaked with shattered expectations.
There was so much to do here, put a bed together, which takes two able bodies,
vacuum the car, sweep and mop the scuffed hardwood floors, brush the pets that
leak hair at every move, prepare a presentation, gobble cookie after
coffee-soaked cookie to take away the harbored resentments, building up like
soldiers at dawn. At least vacuuming felt productive so she commenced to pull
the machine out from her closet, already sweating in anticipation. The pet
fluff represented all of the loose strings floating around in the world,
discouraging Pearl from moving forward with joy.
As she
opened the closet door, her breath came in starts and stops, a bat flew out
from the far recesses of the rafters. She shouted in fright, causing the dog to
race to Pearl’s side, not immediately aware of the cause of danger, but
reacting to her owner’s angst. Pearl was shaking with shock and unable to
comprehend what was happening. She could not even think clearly enough to
search the house for the Yellow Pages but rushed out the front door, with Sammy
in tow, to knock frantically on the neighbor’s door. She asked Susan, a retired
school teacher, who was always home, gardening in the back forty or watching
reality tv shows with her grossly overweight tuxedo black cat, Prince Charming.
Susan was calm and matter-of-fact. She immediately searched for exterminators
on her seemingly too-small-to-be-effective laptop and found several in the
immediate area. One service told non-excitable Susan that they could be out in
twenty minutes. The representative suggested they remain out of the invaded
house until the exterminator arrived. Susan offered Pearl a cup of iced tea
with lemon and Sammy a cat treat, which he gobbled without tasting. The drool
that emitted from his mouth saturated the kitchen throw rug but Susan didn’t
seem to mind or perhaps wasn’t able to actually see the long muzzle- to-floor
string of goo. Pearl was far too distracted by the events to apologize.
He
introduced himself as Pat. A tall, slender, crisp and efficient, red and white
uniform bearing man, jetted around the house with his cage and bag of secret
bat-trapping tools. Pat had a hint of grey at the temples and a wide, calming
smile that instantly set Pearl at ease. Pearl asked if he could trap and not
kill the bat. She just wanted it out of the house, for good. “Well,” he
drawled, “if you really want it gone for good, we will have to destroy it. The
bat will keep coming back to root in the closet unless you find the entry holes
and plug them up.” Pearl began to regret the rabid panic. Taking the time to
mull things over was not an option. She followed Pat around the house,
searching together for the miniscule black bat. Thirty minutes and $98.85
later, the search was called-off. Pat told Pearl that she may research other
options for finding the bat, but he had other service calls to make. He gave
her a business card with his personal cell phone number on the back, scratched
into the paper with flourish. He was perceptibly cheered by the fact that Pearl
lived alone and noted no signs of a man around the premises. Pat is a man of
details and scoured the house top to bottom, apparently looking for the bat but
keeping his eyes open for bad news. One toothbrush sat in the bathroom cup, single
serving coffee maker, one placemat at the eat-in table, no extra pair of large
shoes in the closets, no men’s clothing nor manly tools in the shed. He was
satisfied she is single and surely available.
Pearl
thought nothing of Pat’s excessive attention. She was now worried about the bat
and its inevitable return. How will she sleep tonight, thinking about it biting
her neck and flitting about the house? She pasted the business card, back side
out, on the refrigerator for future reference, not realizing her error.
Susan
stood in the entryway next door, chuckling to herself and the impressive scene
she had witnessed from afar. “Poor Pearl is just so out of touch,” she
speculated, “she isn’t aware of Pat and his apparent interest. I hope that bat
comes back and scares the crap out of her so she has to call Pat personally!”
The bat,
hidden under the bookshelf in a small hole, did in fact reappear. Pearl had
been awake far into the night, ignorant of the invading presence in her
house. She slept on the couch,
television blaring, dog bed at her feet and Sammy pacing around the premises,
reacting to Pearl’s anxiety. Sammy never saw nor smelled the bat. It appeared,
then disappeared, after feasting on the insects, trapped by the screen,
attracted to the colors of the blaring appliance.
Pearl
noticed what appeared to be little dark brown grains of rice around the edges
of the bookshelf in the spare bedroom. A terrific odor was wafting up from the
area so she located her cell phone, attached to the charger in the kitchen, and
proceeded to call the exterminator service. Since Pat’s number was easier to
access, she dialed without taking the card down from the magnet. Pat had saved
Pearl’s number, stolen from the receipt, and was delighted to hear the enhanced
ring tone he set up for her specifically. Pat answers coolly and as though he
does not have a clue who is calling him. He is smiling as though delirious from
too many pharmaceuticals, and in need of intervention. Pearl can only discern
the cheerful tone and feels better already. She explains the peculiar odor and
grains of rice on the floor and Pat assures her it is in fact a sign that the
bat has revisited. He would be glad to come over, as soon as he finishes up
with his jobs and suspects it will be around dinnertime. Pat is clearly aware
that he has the afternoon off, and will need that time to prepare his strategy
for winning Pearl over tonight. He has had far too many unsuccessful
relationships in his coffer to know it takes more than a good plan to woo an
exceptional woman. Pearl seems sturdy, appears reasonably stable, emits fiscal
security, is definitively physically attractive, apparently single and
available. He wants her, needs her, aims to get her.
Pearl had
gone to work-out, showered, and was home in time to throw together a spinach
and mushroom salad, whip up a vinaigrette dressing, and sit down to her
favorite Johnny Cash Pandora station before Pat ceremoniously rang the bell. He
had on a pale blue button-down with a tight pair of black jeans, lizard and
leather cowboy boots and a grin wide enough to count his back molars. The fact
that he was there on an extermination call
nearly escaped him, but fortunately Pat kept his tool kit and supplies
in the back cab so he raced back for them before Pearl got to the door. Gullible
Pearl unbolted the safety latch, after peering thru the peephole, and swung the
door open without hesitation. She commented on his lack of uniform, after regurgitating
the suspicious rice pile story. Pat chuckled and admitted he had finished his
shift sooner than expected, decided not to disturb her and arrive early. He
asked if she detected the bat in the bathroom, while she was showering, since
the steam sometimes attracts the creatures. She told him she had been to the
gym, not wanting to spend an inordinate amount of time at home with the
varmint. Pearl admitted being concerned about Sammy but not enough to remain at
home with him. They continued to chat about their day while making their way to
the stinky bedroom. Pat opened the closet door with caution and was struck in
the middle of the forehead by the bat, in a rush to get out, and away from the
noise. Pat fell and struck his head, hard, on the edge of the bed frame and
slumped in a heap at Pearl’s feet. By the size of the dent in his head, it was
obvious Pat was not revivable.
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