Her, Him, and the Receptionist | Teen Ink

Her, Him, and the Receptionist MAG

January 13, 2009
By SamanthaS BRONZE, Encino, California
SamanthaS BRONZE, Encino, California
1 article 0 photos 370 comments

Our daily jog together. At least I like to think of it as our jog. It’s not like we actually run together, but in close proximity in separate universes.

It is hard to remember the days when we did not run together. My elliptical jogs right behind his treadmill and always keeps up. It would have been so easy to say hi the first time. But with each passing day, it has gotten harder and harder, and now impossible. We have had occasional looks back and forth, but those were probably coincidences. Of course I ­always look at him. As for the times his glance met mine, perhaps something else called his gaze. And I’m way too shy to budge from my routine to approach confirmed rejection. Why can’t he just make the move? I know, that’s a funny one. Look at him and then look at me – especially without makeup!

I don’t turn red from exercising, but I do blush when I’m nervous or embarrassed. So my cover story would be that my redness is from my heavy-duty workouts. After all, I am at the gym. I’m struggling to keep up with myself. My mind is going faster than the elliptical. My fervent fears, my neurotic nerves, my taxing trepidations, my angry anxieties whirling through my brain. Now I’m really dizzy.

Even he has flaws. It’s not like I think he’s perfect or anything. How could he be perfect with shoes that smell like that? He comes close to perfection. And his feet come close to me as he lifts them on the treadmill upwind of my elliptical. Just as my iPod advances to the next song, a wave of toxic air per­meates my nostrils. “Tell me how I’m supposed to breathe with no air? Can’t live, can’t breathe with no air … If you ain’t here I just can’t breathe. There’s no air, no air,” sings Jordin Sparks. Whew, how can I breathe in this air? Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Ahh. How can toxic air be refreshing? But amid these toxins, there is some sweetness. I can just sense it; I have that tingling feeling in my nostrils.

It’s hard for me to hold back a little smile. I can’t get away from it this time. It draws me closer. The occasional silent connection I have with him is worth the foul air I endure. I must be high on either the stench or endorphins, because I don’t believe in drugs. I am exercising longer than usual. I am pumped. I am not getting tired. Exercise is a healthy form of procrastination for what I might do next.

The elliptical bars are sandwiched ­between my palms and my fingers. I am pushing on them with all my strength. Just as I alternately push and pull on the levers – left, right, left, right – my strength to contact him alternates with my fear of rejection. Our closeness has been on a meta­phorical treadmill – no matter how hard I try, no ­matter how fast I run, we don’t get any closer. The counteracting forces of acceptance and rejection are pulling on me equally. I am in equilibrium. I am moving at a constant velocity on the elliptical, but I can’t get myself to move toward him. Physics. Echhh!

I try to look cute in my gym clothes, but it’s hard. The mirror tells me I look fat and ugly. Those are the only things the mirror ever tells me, besides red hair, freckles, Raggedy Anne.

My pink good-luck sweatband hasn’t brought me any luck. I’m going to go buy some new colored ones. I’m getting kind of sick of pink. People must think I wear the same sweaty headband every day, but I have dozens of them from that sale at Costco. I know that’s what he’s thinking when he turns around: freak, loser.

Droplets of sweat drip down my face, ravaging my pores and burning the roots of my confidence. But he gives me a feeling all over my body just by looking at him. So I know it’s worth it.

The odor burns my nostrils, but I can’t resist. I tiptoe into the hallway outside the men’s locker room; one hand holding the heart-shaped Post-It, the other plugging my nose. I see them resting on the wooden bench, right where he left them after “our” jog, laces untied and tongues forming obtuse angles. Why are they here? My hands are shaking and my legs are trembling, but I bite the corner of my lip and stick the note face up in the heel of his right shoe.

I am leaving the gym and I can’t stop thinking about him. Still. I hope he feels the same. But he won’t. I hope he will call. But he won’t. It’s been seven minutes since I put my note in his shoe and put my heart on the waiting list for rejection.

I enter my apartment and begin pacing. It’s been an hour and three minutes. I shouldn’t have done it. He doesn’t like me. It’s ­going to be awkward. No way. I’m not giving in. I’m not going to change my workout routine. But it will be hard to look at him tomorrow. I hope he saw the note before he put his shoes on. If not, I hope the ink doesn’t smear.

***

There she is. I could set my watch by her if I had one. Same gym. Same time. Same workout. Same as me. She never misses a day. I don’t think I ever will either. My mom and dad are both kind of, I don’t want to say chubby, but yeah, they are. I can’t let that happen to me. But I have another reason too.

Crack. Crack. My neck always cracks when I turn my head swiftly to check the clock behind me. At first this was a pain, but then I saw her. When I realized I got to look at her every time I turned to check the time, my neck strain didn’t bother me. I must be discreet. I love looking at her, but I don’t want her to know that her beauty keeps me staring. At least not quite yet. I’m not a stalker, just shy. I want to talk to her. I want to go up to her. But what if she thinks I’m just hitting on her? I’m really interested in knowing her. How is she supposed to tell the difference?

What a cutie. She’s just my type: tall, slender, and I can tell her skin is smooth. The cutest freckles. Milk chocolate eyes. Her gorgeous, wavy red hair is tied is back in a ponytail and she wears a pink headband. She must love pink. She should, it’s her color. Her hair sways with every step. Thank you, pink headband – not a hair is blocking my view of her face.

What I like most is that she doesn’t act like she is beautiful. She doesn’t know how nervous she makes me. She doesn’t know the grace she exudes. She has a story to tell. I want to hear it. But I’m afraid to ask her. Wimpy, maybe. Intimidated, definitely. I feel like I’ve watched the same Candid Camera episode 5,500 times. My failed attempt keeps replaying in my head. With every day that I say nothing, she’s more and more likely to think I’m either gay or I need a watch.

I want to know her name. Seeing her every day for weeks, I refer to her as Pink Headband. How pathetic. I have to know her name. At least for now, it would be easier to ask the receptionist for Pink Headband’s name than to ask her. At least if she refuses, it won’t be as humiliating as a no from Pink Headband.

So I make my way to the desk. I say excuse me to the nerdy girl behind the counter. I have caught her staring at me in the past, but the one time I actually want her attention, she’s preoccupied. I’m the only person here. The phone is resting comfortably on its hook. But she is talking to someone or something nonetheless. I sigh. I’m getting impatient. I feel like I’m hailing a taxi. Waving and waving, and they just drive by. Same with her. I’m waving and that freak seems to be talking to her stapler. Finally I get her ­attention. I ask. She answers. I write “Molly” on the envelope containing my note to the woman I used to know as Pink Headband. I ask the ­receptionist to please give it to her.

As I sit on the bench outside the men’s locker room, I fight my urge to chicken out and retrieve the envelope. I bolt into the locker room to take a shower. The hot water is soothing. Shoot! I left my shoes on the bench. Not to worry. Who would want to steal those smelly old things?

Realizing I must have left my cell phone in my car, I get dressed quickly, jump into my shoes, and leave. I don’t want to miss her call.

***

I hate working at this place. Why do I work here? I need out. I need a work out. I’m so funny. I always laugh at my own jokes. Ha ha ha, snort, snort.

All day I inhale air tainted with the smell of sweat. And no, it’s not me doing the sweating. Oh, here comes Mr. “I’m so much better than you that I won’t respond when you greet me.” I scrunch my nose to push up my glasses, the way I always do when my hands are busy. He’s headed right toward me. It seems like he needs to ask me something. This will be a first. How will he do this and still keep his perfect record of never saying a word to me? Of course, it must be so hard to say “good evening” to someone who has just said it to you.

I can feel my nervous twitch starting up again. My top lip is moving diagonally; my invisible enemy has strung a thread through my lip with his needle. I try to yank it in the other direction, back into place, but it won’t budge.

The name of the girl in the pink headband? Uhhh. The girl in the pink headband! If she’s wearing her pink one today, it must be either Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. Gross. But apparently he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. How sweet. For once he is nice and it is hard to hate him. He writes “Molly” on the envelope and hands it to me. Sure I’ll give it to Molly, all right.

He heads for the locker room; he is out of sight, but he sure isn’t out of my mind. Neither is the favor he asked of me. He wants me to give the envelope to Molly. Sure I will. I’ll be as good at giving this to Molly as he is at responding when I say hello. Actually, better because now my paper shredder’s name is Molly. Molly loves envelopes. She’ll fall bin over wheels!

***

Is there something in my shoe?



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This article has 1778 comments.


KimX said...
on Apr. 22 2011 at 1:07 am
the are 3 characters and each narrates in the first person.  When there is a *** separating paragraphs, the narrator is changing to a different character.  Really clever.

KimX said...
on Apr. 22 2011 at 1:04 am
Read it a few times.  Each time I read it I get more out of it and love it more.

KimX said...
on Apr. 22 2011 at 1:02 am
Your story made me feel good and also kept my attention and drew me in

shaunti0509 said...
on Apr. 21 2011 at 7:18 pm
Wow...I am in loooove with this story...lol. From start to finish, it was amazing.

Aamna said...
on Apr. 20 2011 at 3:24 pm
This is an AMAZING piece. I loved everything about it. How am I supposed to compete with this talent??? Again - GREAT work.

on Apr. 15 2011 at 8:19 pm
caycay15 BRONZE, Marysville, Ohio
4 articles 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
Cyril Connolly

For me, writing is exploration; and most of the time, I'm surprised where the journey takes me.
Jack Dann

first of all i thought it was very well constructed and not at all hard to comprehend or follow, i thouroughly enjoyed the plot but did feel a decline in your climax. I do agree that maybe the ending could have been drawn out more to add an extra umph. I would greatly appreciate it if you wrote a sequal to this beautiful story line i hope to read from you soon. Keep up the creativity!:)

on Apr. 15 2011 at 12:54 pm
rubyrainstorm SILVER, Closter, New Jersey
7 articles 0 photos 275 comments

Favorite Quote:
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.
-Buddha.

I loved this! Amazing, awesome, spectacular, there's no words to describe it! Keep on writing, I loved it! If you have time, please check out and comment on my poem, The Girl Inside. Thanks!

on Apr. 14 2011 at 8:02 pm
booklover104 BRONZE, Stockton, California
4 articles 0 photos 54 comments

Favorite Quote:
I have a couple of quotes i like... \"Success is not a doorway it\'s a staircase\"
2. \"Everything happens for a reason\"
3.\"Your worth consists in what you are and not in what you have\"-Thomas Edison

ok. Let me get this straight. There are four characters? Molly, him, The Receptionist, and the main character? In the end, Him is interested in Molly? Well, it is sad and no I don't think you should keep writing a sequel. This story is already great and it leaves you with the thought, "what happens next?" Yet, it is great this way because it leaves the rest for the readers imagination.....

on Apr. 14 2011 at 3:44 pm
WindDancer GOLD, Lexington, Kentucky
10 articles 3 photos 77 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It's time to start living the life you've imagined"
- Henry James

"I read to escape, I write to confront."

That was really sad.... I think you should do a sequel! The characters are really interesting and you grow to care about them. At first, I thought from the title the story would be about an affair....

That was mean of the receptionist- I mean, I know he never talked to her before but she seems really cynical and upset!! Did the guy not get the girl's note? Ooh, suspense!

Keep writing, please!!


on Apr. 14 2011 at 12:40 pm
Great story! I loved the tragedy of it all and the multiple accounbts were GENIUS! Keep writing , girlfriend!

on Apr. 14 2011 at 9:54 am
Valhalla-is-calling GOLD, Waterboro, Maine
13 articles 0 photos 38 comments

Favorite Quote:
"No parent should have to bury their own child." -Theodin

This is really confusing!!!!!!!!! I don't get it.....

SarahGrac3 said...
on Apr. 13 2011 at 3:02 pm
SarahGrac3, Rockford, Michigan
0 articles 0 photos 6 comments
i really like this and i dont think its too complicated...you should really write more about them

Catiejune said...
on Apr. 13 2011 at 12:03 pm
Catiejune, Cheyenne, Wyoming
0 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
we are who we, so don't change that

me to i read it like five times before my friend explained it. the receptioist is a bad word

Catiejune said...
on Apr. 13 2011 at 11:49 am
Catiejune, Cheyenne, Wyoming
0 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
we are who we, so don't change that

ok can someone tell me whats going on? and can you make a part two or something

atheart said...
on Apr. 13 2011 at 7:44 am
atheart, Omaha, Nebraska
0 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write. ~Sinclair Lewis

I love your storyline, but I think maybe you could add a little more to this. Your climax is building, building, building, and all the sudden, right before you think it will collapse, it just disappears. You got rid of his note, but what about hers? Does he throw it away, does he ignore, gosh forbid, read it? :] I would recommend making the ending longer.

on Apr. 13 2011 at 6:34 am
HorseLover SILVER, Dallas, Texas
7 articles 0 photos 55 comments

Favorite Quote:
"A boat is safe in the harbor. But this is not the purpose of a boat."~Paulo Coelho, author of The Alchemist

Great job, but maybe you could have kept your story a little bit less confusing. I  had to reread some stuff to understand what was going on. Overall, great job, though!!

Catiejune said...
on Apr. 12 2011 at 2:12 pm
Catiejune, Cheyenne, Wyoming
0 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
we are who we, so don't change that

ok im confused whos who?

on Apr. 8 2011 at 3:37 pm
alicain4 BRONZE, Mahopac, New York
3 articles 0 photos 2 comments

ILOVETHIS<3

the different points of view are great; it gives a special insight to what each character is thinking and keeps the story interesting. you really should continue writing and continue their relationship and somehow intertwine the receptionist and her life maybe in a different conflict.


on Apr. 8 2011 at 9:22 am
Saffron_tides GOLD, Dubai, Other
14 articles 0 photos 54 comments

Favorite Quote:
My candle burns on both ends,
It will not last the night;
But Ah! my foes and Oh! my friends it gives a lovely light.

Wow! just wow!

love the ending!


on Apr. 7 2011 at 1:07 pm
ChaChaSlide BRONZE, Lawerenceville, New Jersey
1 article 0 photos 5 comments
Great story but i think it's very cliché how you leave it open-ended... there was so much more you could have done with the ending