Installation 9: Secret Admirer previous

On Tuesday, Phoebe came into work to find a Chinese takeout container on her chair. It had a thin silver ribbon wrapped around it, tied in a sloppy bow. She opened the container and found two rather soggy egg rolls inside.

“What's this?” she asked Carlotta, who was standing at the fax machine looking upset.

“How the hell does this thing work?” Carlotta asked.

“I'll do it,” Phoebe said, taking over control of the machine.

Carlotta looked at the box in Phoebe's hand. “Get rid of them,” Carlotta said. “They smell like dirty dishwater.”

Phoebe threw the egg rolls in the trash in the staff lounge.

The next Tuesday, Phoebe found a set of plastic barrettes on her chair. They were purple and pressed to look like a string of flowers, something a child might wear. Even though she knew it was useless, Phoebe found herself looking around as if someone might be watching. While on her mid-morning foray to the bathroom, she put one in her hair, off to the side and stood back to examine the effect. It looked sort of nice.

Out in the hall, she passed Corey the beautiful Director of Special Projects, who wore a cashmere sweater and tight black pants.

“Nice barrette,” Corey said.

“Thanks,” Phoebe said.

“No, I mean it, that looks very nice on you,” Corey said before she walked away.

Every Tuesday for a month there were small gifts on Phoebe's chair. They became a little more expensive each time. There was a very nice gray scarf. The next week there were matching mittens. There was a lipstick. There was an expensive-looking bar of dark chocolate flavored with orange. Suddenly, Phoebe found herself looking forward to Tuesdays.

“You can't keep all this stuff,” Carlotta said one Tuesday morning before Phoebe got a chance to look at that week's offering. Carlotta blocked her access to her chair.

“Why not?”

“Let's see...” Carlotta said, pretending to think it over. “Because it's creepy, that's why.”

“It's not creepy,” Phoebe said. “Someone has a crush on me. I think its sweet.”

“It's childish,” Carlotta said. “Like Secret Santa gone horribly awry.”

“But there are never any demands on me,” Phoebe said. “I don't have to reciprocate. I can't reciprocate because I don't even know who's doing it.”

“Look,” Carlotta said. “ I wasn't going to say anything before because I was sworn to secrecy, but the word around the building is that James Trehorn is interested in you.”

“Who's James Trehorn?”

“James? From the administrative office? He's only The Director's right hand man. He's gorgeous, young and he's going places in life. He's a catch.”

“Maybe he's the one leaving me the gifts,” Phoebe said.

“James isn't one to leave plastic barrettes or old egg rolls– or think it's very neat that someone else is.”

“I don't even know who James is,” Phoebe said.

“Go down the hall and look in the administrative office,” Carlotta said. “James sits directly in front of the door.”

“Oh,” Phoebe said. “He's The Director's secretary?”

“Secretary? Hardly. He's practically running this place.”

Phoebe took a trip down the hall to look into the hushed sanctuary of the administrative office, which was outfitted with lush green carpeting, carved oak desks and an array of African masks. In front of the door, exactly as Carlotta had described it, stood an enormous desk with only two or three papers resting on it and a gold-plated sign set exactly parallel to the edge that said, “James Trehorn.” A blond man, very Nordic, sat behind the desk holding a fountain pen. He sat motionless over a piece of paper, as if thinking very deeply. Suddenly, as if he sensed Phoebe's presence, he looked up and studied her with pale blue eyes. Under his gaze, Phoebe felt just as she did at 13, when she got caught shoplifting at Kmart with her friends. She turned around and fled back to the Marketing and Public Relations suite.

“So,” Carlotta asked. “What did you think?”

“I guess he's good-looking,” Phoebe said. “If you like that sort of pale look. Why was he wearing a bow tie?”

“That's his signature look,” Carlotta said. “I'm sure he's going to ask you out. It's just a question of when. So to help speed things up, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“James has been selected to head up the committee working on the opening party for Ride the Snake. Each department needs to have at least one person on the committee. Normally, this would be my territory. But I'm going to let you represent us.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Carlotta said. “What better opportunity for love to bloom than when working so closely together?”

“I'm not sure I'm ready for such a big responsibility...”

“OK,” Carlotta said, waving her hand to signal she was completely bored by the conversation. “I'm off to go to lunch.”

“It's only 10:30,” Phoebe said.

“By the way, I was looking through the last batch of press clippings copies and I think you might want to try a lighter setting. Some of them are getting rather dark.”

“OK,” Phoebe said.

After Carlotta was out for lunch, Phoebe sat at her desk and unfolded a piece of velvet cloth. Inside there was a necklace of glass beads and a small piece of paper. She unfolded the paper. It was long, at least twelve inches in length, with a scrawl that went all the way along it. At first she didn't realize the scrawl formed actual letters and that the letters in turn formed words. But after studying it for awhile she made it out.

“Dear Beautiful Angel, soon I will reveal myself to you and take you to a place far away where there are no paper cuts. Wait for me.”

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