Installation 18: Contact previous
After accepting a date with James, Phoebe noticed that suddenly he was everywhere - the staff lounge, the lobby, The Store - and that he seemed to be talking about her.
“It’s flattering,” Carlotta said.
“It’s as if he’s a celebrity with a new movie to promote,” Phoebe said.
“He’s excited,” Carlotta speculated. “He wants everyone to know about his new lady love.”
But the fact of the matter was that, while James had no problem blabbing about the upcoming date to the clerk handing out free biscotti in The Restaurant, or the bored college student working coat check, he avoided talking to Phoebe. Since accepting the date (which she did by slipping into his office one morning and leaving a small note), her only communication with him had been an e-mail containing his address and the driving directions to his house.
Finally, one afternoon she saw him in the hallway.
“Hi James,” she said and gave him a big smile.
“Oh,” James said, peering at her through his wire-rimmed glasses. “Hello.”
An uncomfortable silence followed.
“Well,” Phoebe said. “I should get back to my desk.”
“Yes,” James said. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do. As do I.”
They parted ways. Phoebe wandered down the hall in the direction of her office but suddenly changed her mind and veered off in a direction she’d never been before. She felt troubled by her encounter with James and wanted more time to mull it over before going back to Carlotta, who wanted her to review resumes of men who had applied to serve as Santa Claus during the holiday season.
Soon, Phoebe found herself in a hallway with almost no light at all. She sensed, rather than saw, that she was at a crossroads. There were four directions she could go in, although the most sensible thing would have been to turn around and go back. She looked behind her. Far away she could see the light from The Museum. But then she heard a sound; like music being played on a piano. It was far away and faded in and out, as if someone was messing with a radio that couldn’t quite pick up the station. She turned left, towards the music, and it felt as if she were floating.
The hallway floor was rough against her shoes as it slanted down. She was definitely descending - it became colder and darker. But the music became louder and she felt compelled to keep going.
She banged against something, smacking her forehead. It was a door made of metal. She put her ear to it and heard the music. She knocked. The music stopped. Everything became very quiet and then, faintly, she heard the sound of metal drawn against metal, a soft scraping. The door opened just a bit.
“Phoebe,” a voice said. It was a soft voice but deep, making her heart vibrate in her chest. She leaned forward, peering wide eyed into the darkness but feeling as if she were half asleep.
“Phoebe,” the voice said again.
“Yes?”
“You’ve come to see me,” the voice stated. “You’ve finally come. Beautiful Angel, I knew you would.”
Phoebe stepped into the void and felt a hand on her arm. It pulled her deep into the space on the other side of the door. The door clanged shut behind her and then she was in complete darkness. There was no up or down. Only the voice.
“Beautiful Angel,” the voice said. “Welcome to my playground.”