Ketchup Popsickle - 15

The elevator was mirrored. Sandra looked into her own eyes as she was being lifted to the 12th floor of the building. They were her mother’s eyes. Bluish gray - and scared. Scared of life, scared of love and scared of death. There was a serious lack of confidence hiding deep in her eyes, something that had been hiding there her whole life. The only time she ever felt brave or sure was when Bobby used to hold her hand. These days the only time she felt that way was when Daniel had his chubby little hand wrapped around her finger pulling her forward through life.

Before the elevator doors opened Sandra looked herself over. Her hair had grown like a weed since having Daniel and she had it tied back in a sleek pony tail. She looked like a young professional woman in her new suit. Looks can be very deceiving; she thought and smiled at herself happy for the first time in a long time with her appearance.

The doors opened to a bright and modern office. Surprised to see that the agency took up the entire 12th floor; Sandra strode over to the pretty young Indian woman at the reception desk.

"How may I help you?" the receptionist asked. "Hi, my name is Sandra, I’d like to see Mr. Neason if he’s in please." She steadied her shaking voice, "I’m a friend of the family," she added.

The receptionist looked Sandra over for a moment and smiled politely, picking up the phone. "May I have your name?" she asked.

"Sandra," she replied trying to sound confident.

"Mr. Neason," The receptionist spoke into the phone, "there’s a Sandra here to see you, says she’s a friend of the family." She paused to listen, "She didn’t say." Another pause and then, "Yes, sir, I’ll let her know." Sandra was sure she was about to be kicked out on her rear end. But the receptionist just said, "He’ll be right with you. Please have a seat."

Sandra didn’t want to sit, she was too nervous so she just stood there at the desk trying to act casual. Knowing how odd she must appear to the girl, she thought she should say something, "Can I ask you your name?" Sandra asked. "It’s Indira." She replied. Sandra reached her hand over the desk and Indira took it reluctantly for a quick shake. "Nice to meet you," Sandra continued. "I haven’t seen Mr. Neason since I was a kid, I don’t know if he’ll remember me." I don’t even know if he’s is who I think he is, she thought to herself preparing for an embarrassing episode where Mr. Neason would arrive in the foyer and is not the Mr. Neason from her childhood and call security to escort her out. Then Sandra had a moment of clarity, she only needed to ask Indira a few questions to confirm whether he was the right Mr. Neason and if he wasn’t the right Mr. Neason, she still had time to make a run for it and save herself from the security escorting scenario.

"Do you know if Mr. Neason son?" she asked Indira casually.

"Robert?" Indira asked.

"You mean Bobby?" Sandra asked.

"He doesn’t like to be called that." Indira whispered. "He absolutely hates to be called Bobby." She seemed to be telling this to Sandra in confidence as though she may have once made the mistake of doing so and suffered some sort of consequence. It didn’t make any sense to Sandra that Bobby wouldn’t want to be called Bobby. That was his name. But it would appear that she was in the right office, with the right Mr. Neason and would possibly be able to convince him to hire her if she explained her circumstances.

"Hello." Mr. Neason said as he turned the corner from the hallway to the left of the reception desk. Sandra looked up to see a very nice looking man in his fifties, tall with a slim build and a kind face. It was the man she remembered, although slightly grayed and slightly wrinkled around his mouth and eyes, surely from years of smiling and laughing the boisterous laugh that she remembered clearly now. The man who used to make her and Bobby peanut butter and banana sandwiches when they’d get home from school. The man who used to let her and Bobby sit on his motorbike and pretend to ride off to foreign lands together. Bobby's dad.

"Hello Mr. Neason," Sandra replied not being able to stop herself from grinning ear to ear. Mr. Neason, being a red-blooded male, looked Sandra up and down and then looked into her smiling face. His expression became quizzical, obviously recognizing her but not being able to place her.

"It’s Sandra, from Chester Heights. I used to be friends with your son Bobby." Sandra said.

"Sandy?" Mr. Neason asked. "Bobby’s Sandy?" Mr. Neason’s face went pale; he looked like he was seeing a ghost. He strode over to her and took up her hands into his. "Sandy. We thought you were dead!" He exclaimed. "How is this possible? How is it that you are standing here in front of me?" His eyes were welling up and Sandra didn’t know how to react to the situation.

She looked over at Indira whose mouth was wide open in surprise at Mr. Neason’s behaviour. Confused she turned back to Mr. Neason, "I’m very much alive the last time I checked." She said smiling up at him. She was pretty sure that she’d be getting the job. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Mr. Neason threw his hands up in the air exasperated. He looked over at Indira. "Hold my calls."Come with me to my office, I'll explain." he said leading her into the office's interior.

They walked through a hallway of open doors with well dressed professional looking people behind expensive looking desks and arrived at a large corner office with floor to ceiling windows.

Waiving her to a dark wood table with four chairs around it, Mr. Neason said, "Have a seat." He sat down across from her and grinned. "Robert is going to..." he began and then paused seemingly changing the course of his thought, "be very excited to know that you are back." He laughed at the prospect of her being back from the dead and continued on. "When we moved back here six years ago, Robert was beside himself trying to decide whether to call you or not - this is just between us - he thought that you must hate him for not keeping in touch with you. He felt like he abandoned you."

"He did. But it wasn't his fault. We were just kids." Sandra tried not to let the memory of the day that Bobby left return but it did. Bobby kissed her teary cheek before getting into his father's truck. She sat crying on the street curb as they drove away. She didn't stop crying for days. She stopped eating and stopped playing with her other friends. She turned into a bit of a social freak, not wanting to be friends with anyone ever again in case they decided to up and leave like Bobby did. She realized at that moment, that was why she never allowed anybody to love her, not even Mike. He may have been trying all along, but she didn't want to see it. She didn't want to be loved because she didn't want to be left behind. A tear dripped down her cheek and landed on the mahogany table and she looked up at Mr. Neason who had a tissue extended to her across the table.

"Thank you." she said.

"Sandy, Bobby did call your house once he worked up the nerve but your father told him that you had died in an accident. He said that you were hit by a drunk driver." A flash of anger crossed his face, obviously directed at her father.

"What!?" Sandra yelled. "My father! HE said I was dead?" She was dumbfounded and furious at her father. Her tears were coming faster now and Mr. Neason pushed the box gently under her hands.

"I can understand why your father might have done such a thing. It was to protect you from being hurt again. You must have been a mess when we left and no father - trust me - likes to see their kid in that kind of shape. Robert was a mess when your father gave him that news. Changed his life forever. He became, well, angry. He's a right miserable jerk actually even to me, his own father. He never forgave himself for not staying in touch with you."

Sandra tried desperately to regain her composure - she had gone there for an interview not an intervention. She thought for a split second that Bobby should be mad at himself for ditching her. But she knew that with all the years between them it would have destroyed her too, if she heard that he was gone.

"Mr. Neason, I came here to ask you for a job." She blurted the words out. It wasn't the most opportune moment, but she couldn't stand the pain of thinking about Bobby anymore. Somebody who she knew inside and out, who she loved with all of her little girl heart and somebody who broke that heart into a million little pieces that she has yet been able to collect.

"A job? Oh, the ad in the paper," he said suddenly cheerful. "What a wonderful idea." His voice was smooth and calm now as though they had been only chatting about the weather before. "Why don't you come by next Monday and we'll get started? My current assistant is leaving next Friday and that will give her enough time to show you the ropes. What perfect timing - I haven't even interviewed anybody yet. Sandy, this is what is called fate." He patted her hand and stood up from the table to open the office door.

"Are you sure Mr. Neason?" She asked. "You haven't even seen my resume."

"Of course I'm sure. I have a meeting coming in shortly so have a great day and tell you father I say hello." He patted her on the shoulder and reached out his arm to direct her down the hall toward the foyer. Sandra began walking. When she turned to say thank you to Mr. Neason he had already closed the door to his office and she could see him behind his desk reaching for the phone. Was he calling Bobby she wondered?