Revised

This is a revised version of a story I wrote. Please tell me what you think.

Excess Baggage
By Debbie Roppolo



“Look you spineless little worm, I don’t care if it is Friday, I want those reports on my desk first thing Monday morning!” Cheryl McAdams screeched into the phone. Idiot, she thought, twisting the receiver cord around her fingers. She looked at the spirals knotted around her hand like a tangled ball of yarn, and wished with all her heart the cord was knotted around her assistant’s, Dan Pepper’s, meaty neck.

She closed her eyes and indulged herself by imagining the cord digging deeper and deeper into Pepper’s neck as he clawed frantically at the vise-like grip. His breathing becoming labored and raspy before collapsing on the floor like a broken puppet. Oh god I hate him, she thought, listening to Pepper babble another excuse. He was her third assistant in two months; all the others couldn’t withstand Cheryl’s tyranny, and quit. Pepper had been in good standing with Cheryl until a few afternoons ago when she had heard him talking in the break room as she breezed past.

“Oh yeah, McAdams is a witch,” Pepper told a group of men seated at the table with him.

Oh I am, am I, Cheryl thought. She stopped and listened just outside the door.

“But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a woman run me off!” Pepper laughed. Cheryl had fought to contain the anger bubbling up from the depths of her soul. You haven’t seen anything yet, mister, she fumed.

After the incident, Cheryl doubled Pepper’s workload, and made him run personal errands for her, making completion of assignments almost impossible. It warmed her heart to see Pepper scampering around like a disoriented rat, a “deer in the headlight” look on his face.

Now, as he offered yet another reason for not having the reports on time, Cheryl sensed a weakening in his demeanor, gone was his self-assured tone. I almost have him, she thought gleefully. Now for the “kill”.

“Oh sure you could have the reports done by Tuesday,” she said. “Then after you hand them in, go home and explain to your mousy little pregnant wife why you don’t have a job.” Cheryl smirked at the dispirited tone in Pepper’s voice.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” she said, hanging up the phone. Ah yes, another spirit crushed, she thought gleefully. She sank into her padded leather chair; poured brandy from a crystal decanter into a shot glass, and downed the fiery drink in one gulp. Cheryl picked up a voice-activated recorder from her desk. “Note to self. Fire Pepper on Monday.” She twirled around and stared out the window of her high-rise luxury office.

Becoming an executive in Greenbrier and Associates had been a hard fought battle for her. Through the years, she had clawed her way up the rungs of the corporate ladder, “crushing” all that dared to get in her way. A buzz from the intercom interrupted her celebration.

“Uum . . . Mrs. McAdams. Mr. Greenbrier is here to see you,” whined her secretary. “What should I do?”

“Try sending him in.” Cheryl leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Idiots, I’m working with idiots.

A well-dressed older gentleman sauntered into her office. “Kind of hard on the secretary weren’t you?”

“No harder on her then you were with me.” Cheryl spun the chair around and faced her boss.

He chuckled and sat in an overstuffed chair near the door. “Always to the point aren’t you? Well, I need you to pack you bags. I have job for you involving travel.”

“Are you demoting me?”

“Of course not. Sarah Dickerson’s daughter is sick and she can’t make the Templeton meeting in Dallas. I need you to go in her place.”

Cheryl smirked. “Can’t she get a babysitter? Maybe a relative to look after her rug rats?”

Mr. Greenbrier shook his head disgustedly. “No Cheryl, she’s not like you. She adores her children.” Groaning with the effort, he rose from the chair and left the office.

“I adore my children too!” Cheryl shouted after Mr. Greenbrier’s retreating form. I can’t believe he implied I don’t care about my children. She punched the intercom button angrily with her finger.

“Amedia, get me the Templeton file.” An older woman entered the office and, avoiding eye contact, timidly handed Cheryl the file. I bet she’d jump right out of her skin if I said boo, she thought nastily, brushing past the secretary as she walked out the door.

Cheryl strode across the parking lot to her car, still fuming over Greenbrier’s cutting remark. She unlocked the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror.

Eyes once sparkling with happiness and mischief stared back at her, as dull and lifeless as a corpse’s. She automatically raised her hand to her cheek and caressed the heavily lined skin. When did I get so old? She was only thirty-three, nowhere near middle age. Cheryl shrugged to herself and jammed the car into drive. Oh well, can’t worry about it now.

The interstate resembled a parking lot as inch by inch, the cars slowly moved along. The commute home was nerve-wracking, and Cheryl had developed a severe headache by the time she pulled in the drive. Good lord but I need an aspirin. I feel like someone is tap-dancing inside my head. Her seven year-old daughter, Hannah, met her in the drive as she was getting out of the car. Dimly, Cheryl was aware that her daughter was wearing a soccer uniform.

“Ready to go Mommy?” Hannah chirped. Oh great! Don’t tell me her game is tonight, Cheryl thought.

Cheryl dropped to her knees so she was eye-level with her daughter. “Baby, Mama doesn’t think that . . .”

Hannah’s smile faded. “That’s okay Mommy. Daddy will take me. He always takes me!” Hannah burst into tears and raced into the house. A couple of minutes later she emerged, this time followed by Cheryl’s husband, John. Cheryl hated the accusing glares from her husband and daughter as they stormed past.

“John, I have a trip in the morning and. . .” John held up his hand to interrupt her.

“Cheryl please. Your excuses are getting old. If you didn’t want to go. . .” John let his voice trail off as he helped Hannah into the minivan. Without another look, her husband and daughter roared out of the driveway, leaving Cheryl alone. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she angrily brushed them away with her sleeve.

They have no concept of the sacrifices I make for them. I work my fingers to the bone to help pay for our luxurious lifestyle; this is the thanks I get! Cheryl rose to her feet, brushed off her pants, stormed into her Victorian style house and up the stairs to her bedroom.

She dragged her mammoth suitcase from the closet, threw it on the bed, and began throwing clothes haphazardly into the yawning mouth of the suitcase. As she packed, she caught a glimpse of a framed picture on the dresser. On trembling legs, she walked across the room and picked it up. It was a photo of Cheryl and John just after Hannah was born. They were so happy then; it was right before Cheryl was named executive at Greenbrier and Associates. With a strangled sob, Cheryl clutched the picture to her chest and threw herself across the bed where she cried herself to sleep. As she slept, she dreamed.

She was checking into a hotel, as she had so many times before, but to her amazement, she had no luggage with her. “I guess the airline lost my luggage,” she snapped at the front desk attendant.

“Oh no madam. Here’s the porter with your luggage now.”

Cheryl gasped in horror. Several large grotesque suitcases sat on a gilded luggage rack. As if she were being pushed, Cheryl walked over and inspected the luggage closely. She ran her hands over them; luggage was rough to the touch, and had a greasy, slimy feel. T-These can’t possibly be mine!

“Are you sure these are mine?”

The attendant smiled broader. “Yes madam. I heard you drag these around with you everyday. You must get very tired. Yes, they’re definitely yours. Take a closer look.” Cheryl hesitated, then looked closer. Each piece of luggage had a word on it. The largest pieces of baggage had the words GREED, HATRED, IMPATIENCE, INGRATITUDE. There were three smaller pieces of luggage at the very top. Her hands trembling, Cheryl took down the two pieces. They were smaller then a change purse, and made of satin. On them were written the words LOVE, SELF RESPECT, TIME FOR FAMILY.

“These large pieces. I-I don’t want them. How do I get rid of them?”

“Only you know the answer to that,” the porter replied politely.

Cheryl woke from her troubling dream with a start. Anxiously she looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. I’ve only been asleep for 10 minutes, she rejoiced. I still have time to make Hannah’s game. First, I need to take care of unfinished business. Cheryl grabbed her cell phone from her purse and dialed her work number. Please, please, let someone still be there.

Seconds later, she heard the high tinny voice of her secretary, Amedia. “Amedia, hi. This is Cheryl. Could you please connect me to Mr. Greenbrier’s office.”

“I’m sorry madam, but Ms. McAdams is gone for the day. Perhaps you could call back one day next week. Thank you for calling Greenbrier and Associates.” Cheryl heard the unmistakable click of the receiver being put back on its base, then the line went dead. She counted to ten before calling back.

“Amedia, this is Cheryl McAdams, your boss. I called a few seconds earlier and asked to be connected to Mr. Greenbrier.”

“M-Ms. McAdams. I had no idea that was you earlier. You never referred to yourself by your first name before. I-I‘ll put you through immediately.

“Amedia, wait.” Cheryl interrupted. “Before you transfer me, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everything you do.” There was silence on the other end.

“Amedia? Did you hear what I said?” Cheryl heard the sound of sniffling on the other end.

“Thank you. That means a lot. I’ll connect you now.” Cheryl hummed to the muzak playing on the phone. This is most content I’ve felt in a while, she thought. The muzak ended abruptly and was replaced by the deep voice of Mr. Greenbrier.

“Mr. Greenbrier, I’m glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to talk to you about giving Pepper a raise; he definitely deserves it. About the meeting, you’re going to have to get someone else to make that meeting. I have prior obligations and I. . .well, I have some large baggage getting in my way I need to get rid of.