<\/p>\n
I sit at the desk in my cubicle, tucked into a dark corner of the office. A sea of gray surrounds me. The quiet envelops me, the only sound the faint trickle of the water cooler up ahead. The day has dragged on, and when I glance at the analog clock hung on the wall, it\u2019s approaching 5 o\u2019clock. The minute hand seems to crawl toward freedom. I hear the faint sounds of laughter in my ears, so I lift my tired eyes from my computer screen as a I massage my temples. The execs\u2013or what I like to call the untouchables\u2013sit in an open, airy conference room. I admire Sarah\u2019s outfit; she\u2019s in a well-tailored pink pantsuit. She\u2019s in line for one of the assistant heads of marketing positions, even though she\u2019s only been here for six months. Her LinkedIn biography dutifully proclaims, \u201cYou have to know how to market yourself first!\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Self-consciously I smooth the wrinkles of my beige sweater, and my mind wanders to thinking about this evening. I instinctually pull up Apple maps on my phone. It will take me 39 minutes to get home with traffic. The timing will work. My mother\u2019s hospice nurse Denise usually leaves at 6. She charges extra if I\u2019m late, and I can\u2019t afford her as it is. I glance at the clock again. 5:06. By this point the execs are wrapping up, and everyone else in the office is already gone. I log off my computer, the dual monitors sleepily whirring to a black screen.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHave a good night!\u201d Sarah cheerfully calls as she heads out of the office.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou too!\u201d I mumble in response, neatly stuffing my laptop and my pens into the back pocket of my oversized backpack.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I wait until the office is empty, glancing three, then four times for reassurance as I head into the product room. The heavy door opens with a moderate degree of force, and I make sure it\u2019s completely shut behind me before I take a step forward. I glance at the shelves before me, full of bottles of cough syrup of all different colors and flavors. We\u2019re constantly testing and refining our products for the ideal consumer experience. All the rejects and the work in progress bottles are kept here, which works out nicely for me because there\u2019s only one security camera perched in the left upper corner. The security tapes are reviewed every morning by Jerry, who happens to respond very well to bribes. And I\u2019ve given him enough in that department that I\u2019ve secured his loyalty.<\/span><\/p>\n I open my gaping backpack and place about ten bottles of the reject cough syrups at the cavernous bottom. No one cares about the rejects; they usually only sit for a few days before destruction is approved anyway. Lately, the batches have been too strong, which makes them worth double to me. Every day for the last nine months this has been my routine, ten bottles for every day my mother has been on hospice care.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I walk out of the product room, giving the camera a sad wink. Jerry will appreciate it before he destroys the evidence.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I stand in the shadows, lurking behind one of the front exits of the office building. I remove my hand from the side of my pink pantsuit and use it to shield my sensitive blue eyes from the sun and look up toward the third floor. I know Melanie\u2019s still up there, and I know she\u2019s up to something. God, I freaking hate this job. This is the worst cover I\u2019ve ever had. My face constantly hurts from smiling, and it\u2019s like my voice has risen at least two octaves in the six months that I\u2019ve worked here. I am proud of my LinkedIn profile though; it took an insane amount of effort to get 500+ connections that quickly.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ve been working on this case for the last nine months, ever since an undercover ring of dextromethorphan popped up. It took me four times pronouncing it and sounding like an idiot to finally get it right, ugh. And it took hours at the mall to get this pantsuit made in various hues of pink. Magenta, flamingo, hot pink, salmon, and pruce. Like what the hell is pruce? But I did my shopping, and my research. I had to learn what being a marketing person means, and I picked up on the corporate lingo pretty quick. Everyone has believed I am Sarah: the put together pink pantsuit girl with the bubbly personality and knack for marketing consumer health products. Only the marketing director and some other top people know I am actually an FBI agent and am here at CoughCorp to find the mole.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I hold my breath and duck back behind the doorway as Melanie pushes open the doorway with a flourish. She always looks so damn smug, but I\u2019m onto her. Her backpack bulges, and I know the cough syrup is in there; I just need a way to prove it. It would be so much easier if I could just watch the security tapes, but for some reason camera 46 in the west wing is always down. I put a work order in for a replacement, but progress has been slow.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I watch Melanie get into her Toyota Prius and feel a twinge of empathy. She may be a thief, and a terrible employee, but I admire her reliable and environmentally friendly choice of transportation. She carefully places the backpack in the seat next to her, and reverses, doing that thing where you put your arm on the passenger seat headrest. God, I have to learn how to do that.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I gave it a couple seconds and sunk into the plush seats of my Audi Q5. This car would never be my choice, but it felt like what Sarah would do, and all my choices were about fitting into a character. I\u2019d been Tracy and Gwen over the course of the last two years, and gone through different hair colors, aesthetics, and careers. Every Saturday I would go into my favorite local coffee shop, and I\u2019d pause for a second whenever a new barista would ask for my name, finally replying simply with \u201cAnna\u201d.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I watched the Prius exit the parking lot, and tailed behind it, careful not to be too obvious. Tonight would be the end of Melanie, and I guess the end of Sarah,<\/span> too.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I check Apple maps again. The display flashes 41 minutes, putting my arrival at 5:56. I should still make it in time for Denise. I cue up \u201cHelp! Remastered 2009\u201d by the Beatles. It’s the song of the week. Last week\u2019s was Taylor Swift\u2019s \u201cMy Tears Ricochet.\u201d I plug in my phone to let it charge, and roll down the window, letting the breeze hit my cheeks. I love that it is finally getting warmer, it\u2019s been a long winter. Mom hasn\u2019t been doing very well, and she hates the bitter cold. Denise tries to wheel her outside for some fresh air, but she either refuses altogether or pulls the blankets taut around her and stares straight ahead, unblinking and unnervingly mute.<\/span><\/p>\n A text pops up on CarPlay, it’s from Kenneth. I click on it, and Siri reads to me robotically, \u201cMelanie, meet me at the corner of 4<\/span>th<\/span> and West Elm at 9:15 for our drop off. Don\u2019t be late. And remember you owe me from last time.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I swear under my breath. I had forgotten, but of course Kenneth never would. He had given me an advance on last week\u2019s payment. It was only an extra hundred bucks, but I knew it would cost me much more than that.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHi, mom, hi Denise,\u201d I shout as I walk past the creaking front porch and through the doorway, dropping my keys on the countertop but keeping my backpack on, always close. I make sure to speak up for mom. Her hearing isn\u2019t anything to write home about, and neither is her eyesight.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Denise walks up to me, gives me a welcoming smile, then leans in closer to me.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHi Melanie, your mom did very well today. We even went for a nice little stroll!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, that\u2019s great to hear,\u201d I reply, giving my first genuine smile of the day.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI just wanted to remind you that payment for the last two weeks will be deducted tomorrow,\u201d Denise whispers, a look of empathetic concern etched on her aged face.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I stare at the wrinkles on her skin, her smile lines, her crow\u2019s feet. I wonder how many choices and mistakes she has made throughout her life, and how she ended up here. I would never have the courage to ask her, but I feel connected to her. We both care deeply about my mother, and I believe we are just doing what we need to.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I sit in my Audi parked down the block, and watch Melanie roll into her asphalt driveway, the pale-yellow paint peeling from her ranch home. The street is lined with trees, and the scent of pine wafts toward me. Suddenly Melanie emerges on the porch, wheeling her mother. They sit together in silence, watch passerby on the street. I don\u2019t know how old her mother is, but I have to guess close to eighty-five. I look away quickly.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I wait another hour, scrolling on Pinterest. I look at corporate outfit inspiration, and my page is filled with images of hot pink pencil skirts. I was really settling into Sarah. Suddenly, Melanie comes out again and gets into her Prius. I give her a few seconds to get down the street and then follow her. I have no idea where she was going, but I hope that tonight is the night.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n After what feels like forever, she pulls up to the corner of 4<\/span>th<\/span> and West Elm. I sit in wait. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Melanie gets out, and I question what on Earth she is reaching for. I strain my eyes to see better, and\u2026 jackpot. The backpack. She opens it and looks around suspiciously. If she only knew what was coming for her. I watch her hand a few of the cough syrup bottles to some random dude. I have no idea who he is but suspect they have been meeting up for quite some time. My fingers are poised over the handle, and I ready my body to jump out. He pulls out a wad of cash, and I jump. Now is my chance. I run toward them, and shout, “Police! Freeze! You\u2019re under arrest!\u201d Melanie looks absolutely petrified. The other dude hops into his BMW, and I make a mental note of the plates. I would run them later, but there is no chance I can catch him. Besides, I have bigger fish to fry.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMelanie Davis, you\u2019re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law,\u201d I recite breathlessly as I reach for my handcuffs.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWait, Sarah?!\u201d she screams. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t going to dignify her question with a response, and she knew it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI have a proposition,\u201d she quickly adds.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n What the hell is this chick talking about?\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve known this couldn\u2019t go on for much longer,\u201d she continues. \u201cBut I never wanted to live this life. I guess you\u2019ve been watching me for a while, so you probably know about my mom. I needed some extra cash to pay for her hospice care, and I only take the reject bottles anyway. Who am I even hurting?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I feel a pang of guilt but push it down.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll give you half of what I make, and we can run this dextromethorphan ring together. Think about all the pink pantsuits we could wear, and with you on my side, this thing could be big. Epic girlbosses,\u201d she finishes.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n My mind wanders to visions of luxury closets filled with an array of pink pantsuits. Maybe I really was turning into Sarah because I wanted to keep working for Cough Corp. I had been loving the marketing meetings and the team, and I was tired of being Tracy and Gwen. More importantly, this would be the end of Anna Sinclair. I could finally answer the Starbucks barista simply with \u201cSarah.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I drop the handcuffs and put them back in my pocket. I turn away from Melanie and respond, \u201cI\u2019ll see you in the office on Monday.” ***<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n My mouth drops open in disbelief. I can\u2019t believe Sarah\u2019s letting me get away with this. I honestly expected her to blackmail me or throw me in jail. But on Monday, I\u2019ll be back in my gray cubicle and come home to wheel around my ailing mother. I guess I’m lucky that everything will be exactly the same.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
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