The Face

Fancy Pants Andy they call him behind his back. He wears suits designed by the likes of Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein. He sits behind the Cherry polished wood reception desk that is set low, as the slate gray wall behind him prominently displays the occupants: Georges, Mason, Twissler & Krane, LLP, Attorneys-at-Law. The much sought after services of the firm’s Ivy League of attorneys make Andy’s job challenging meeting and greeting clients. But on this particular day, more than the usual amount of litigious clients have been coming in.

“I haven’t had a chance to take a break,” Andy wails to a passing associate, who only shrugs.

The legal assistants and paralegals shake their heads. One of them whispers to the others, “We’ll be calling him Wet Pants Andy.” They snicker, and they go back to tapping on their computer keyboards busily.

Andy’s eyes water as he bites his lip to contain his bladder. As the receptionist, he has trained himself to hold for many hours, but today has really taken its toll on his patience. He sees everyone is preoccupied with their own work. He reaches down to the bottom drawer of his desk to take out his emergency kit. He has never used it in this job, but today truly merits it. He gets down behind his desk as if looking for something he dropped on the floor. Quickly, he opens the kit and applies what he expects will result in what is guaranteed in his situation. Satisfied, he goes about straightening the papers on his desk. When he hears the elevator bing, he turns his head sideways so his left profile is facing the front glass door. From his peripheral view, he can see an elderly woman approaching his desk.

“How can I help you?” Andy asks, as he turns his head to fully face the woman. She gasps. His right eyelid is drooping with dried red flakes trailing down his cheek covered with a swollen blister; green pus oozing down to his chin.

She flees, the room clears. At last he can go to the bathroom.

©2015 Karina Pinella

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