Impulse
Impulse
By Brie Wells
Tina looked at her reflection in the women’s room mirror and asked, “What is wrong with you?” It was barely the middle of January and she had broken every resolution she made on New Year’s. Why was she so weak she couldn’t follow her own directions?
Her fingers raked through her scalp. The ‘Start the Day Right’ campaign went out the window two weeks into January. She had said she would do ten minutes of yoga, drink water instead of coffee and meditate every morning. Sure that would work if she led a normal life, but as a visual effects artist the hours are unbelievably long.
The current production has been in blitzkrieg mode for a month; overtime and weekends. Most mornings she was lucky to get in a quick shower, fill her travel mug with strong coffee and hop on the train.
If her brain was functional by the time she got to work after slamming down half the cup, she could face her ever-growing list of shots to complete and make progress. It felt like a perpetual Wednesday loop, never making progress and never seeing a day off.
Then there was her ‘Just Say No’ to junk food crusade. That lasted almost three weeks. But there was that late night pizza delivery to the crew. It was her favorite, roasted red pepper and pineapple. She caved. Wolfed down three pieces. Which was bad enough but then on her way home she stopped at the 7 11 and bought three cartons of Ben and Jerry’s.
Well it’s all water under the bridge. No use crying about spilt milk. She can revive that commitment and get back on track. A few slips doesn’t ruin an entire operation.
One good thing was she had followed through on her ‘No Alcoholic Beverages’ directive. That has been remarkably easy since her debacle at the office New Year’s Eve party. Embarrassment alone had helped her remain resolute. Plus she wanted to keep her job. As miserable as she was, she enjoyed the excitement of working on super hero movies. She needed the money.
How did she got so intoxicated at that party?
She placed her hand on the mirror covering her face. The face of the drunken girl who behaved so stupidly at the party.
It didn’t help that she’d been dieting all November and December to fit into that halter dress. A couple of gin and tonics and a few beers on an empty stomach and she was doing her Marilyn Monroe impersonation on top of the bar. Whistles and cheers from the crowd only encouraged her to twirl her dress up and up and the loose top slipped down. That caught everyone's attention.
No one knew at that moment she was doing all this to attract Steve. Steve it still gripped her heart to think of him.
She shook off the memory. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all day. She washed her hands and faced the door to the office hallway, pushed it open and stepped out into the darkness.
There are times when working long hours in dark rooms has its advantages. She can hide behind a computer screen and not face the stares and whispers of coworkers. But people have long memories when you misbehave and very short memories when they misbehave. Like they never did or said anything foolish. “Glass houses, people,” she thought as she passed the rows of illuminated faces staring at computer screens. Some furtively glancing up at her others avoiding her completely.
All right it’s true, she had a major crush on Steve. Well, maybe more than a harmless crush. Sheena said she was infatuated. But what slippery slope catapulted her into thinking he liked her back?
She slithered into her chair and put her headphones on. That was another way she could hide. Listening to her favorite podcasts on that poor woman in Maine who disappeared years ago. That woman drove her car up north got out and 'poof' gone. No trace of her. Nothing.
Sometimes she’d like to be a missing person. Run away and start over somewhere else as someone else.
Tina’s stomach churned again. She almost lost her job the night of the New Year's party. It wasn’t that she cornered Steve once but several times. Sheena had to sit with her until she promised to stop following Steve.
But she didn’t, did she.
Did she think he’d be pleased? Did she think he’d say “Oh Tina, how wonderful you’re whipping your breasts out for the fourth time tonight! Let’s make out!” Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She opened her calendar. How long could she last like this? How long could she take the stares and whispers?
March 15th. The Ides of March were disastrous for Caesar. But she is not Caesar. Maybe it would be lucky for her.
That sounded like a good day. If she were still feeling like this in March, she’d find a way to leave. She’d find a new life somewhere else. She’d be someone else.