Edward punched in the last four digits of his social security number on the keypad of his computer. A bright blue screen flashed before his eyes, and Edward began the task of comparing statistical rates of risk as he had done for the past thirty-five years. It wasn't the job that he had wanted when he went to college, it wasn't the job that he wanted when he graduated college, but it was the first job that had hired him and for that he was thankful.
He had a slow rise through company ranks and became a manager of his cluster. However, telling people that he was a manager of a cluster was not something he wanted to brag about, hell no one even knew what a cluster was, he still wasn't sure what it meant. Every morning was basically the same, sometimes Edward would change his route to work, or even stop at the local coffee shop just to change things up a bit. One morning he even parked in a different spot, just so that he'd have to walk past the commissary, try to catch a glimpse of Sheila.
Sheila was unlike any other commissary line worker that Edward had ever seen. Her smile made Edward forget that he had an allergy to strawberries, which consequently led to his hospitalization. This wasn't exactly an impression he was hoping to have on Sheila. But from then on she always steered him clear of any potential hazards, asking if he was allergic to it before she put it on his plate. She always gave him extra potato salad, he could tell that she gave others a much smaller scoop than what he got.
Their conversations were never very long, but Edward could tell that they were leading to something more than just the commissary. He knew that Sheila took Wednesdays off, which was the only day of the week that Edward didn't eat lunch; he just wasn't hungry. He knew that she didn't like refried beans because they were messy to clean. He knew she got into work at 7:30am and left at 4:00pm. Edward always took his break at 4:00 so that he could sit and watch her get to her car safely. She parked near the back where his break room window faced, he was watching merely for her protection.
At 12:15pm Edward walked down to the commissary. Today the special was spaghetti and meatballs, one of his favorites. He took out his wallet and scanned his meal card anticipating seeing Sheila. As Edward entered the line he noticed that Sheila wasn't there. She's probably in the back getting more meatballs he told himself. She liked to keep her trays full of food. But there was someone else standing in her place, she always stood to the left of the salad bar line, and in her place was an older woman. Edward began to panic, this wasn't Wednesday she was supposed to be in today. Thoughts started swirling in his mind. What if she didn't make it home safe last night? He watched her get into her car. Did she have car trouble coming in this morning? Did she have a family emergency and she had to leave immediately?
Edward was so shaken by Sheila's absence that he didn't even grab his tray for lunch, instead he found the nearest commissary employee and demanded answers. “Where is Sheila?”
The commissary employee was a high school kid working for the summer, he didn't appear to even know how to turn on an oven, let alone work in a kitchen. He stared at Edward, “Who's Sheila?”
Edward wasn't sure what upset him more, that this punk kid didn't know who Sheila was or that he was wasting his time. “You know Sheila, the woman who always stands to the left of the salad bar, where is she?”
The kid looked to the left of the salad bar and squinted his eyes as if he was really trying to picture who stood there everyday. “Oh, yeah, short kinda chubby girl with the dark brown hair?”
“She isn't chubby.”
“Yeah, whatever, um I think she got fired.”
“Fired?!” Edward was fuming. How could they fire her? What could she have possibly done? Was it not serving everyone the same amount of food, but that couldn't be he had never said anything to anyone. And if she got fired wouldn't she have told him? But what if she couldn't tell him, what if they did it last night and she was too ashamed to say anything, and she didn't even know where his office was, they never spoke about work when they talked.
