The first challenge to her office space came from the supervisor of the English Dept.,
Pete Plimpler. He caught Mrs. Haliburton early one morning as she strolled into the main
office. She got the distinct impression he'd been lying in wait for her; one minute he
appeared to be studying notices pinned on the main office board; the next he looked
around, smiled and announced, "Ah, there you are…"
Mrs Haliburton threw her arms up in mock surrender – what offence had she
committed to warrant his attention? – her bosoms shaking with mirth. And Pete
Plimpler cleared his throat, touched her gently on the elbow and assured her with
corresponding good humor she had committed no offence. "At least not yet."
"My heart went bumpity, bump," Mrs. Haliburton later told Noreen, girlfriend at the
Board of Ed. "All these years this man has nothing to say to me, walks by me like I'm
the corner mailbox…and now all of a sudden, he's happy to see me?…I mean, be still
my heart."
"Are you going up to the second floor?" Pete Plimpler asked. "There's something I've
been meaning to discuss with you."
Smiling, still mystified, she walked with him to the elevator.
Mrs. Haliburton was a bosomy woman with firm, fleshy arms and a full head of hair
she kept well groomed. Pete Plimpler was short and slim, with thinning grey hair; he
wore an obligatory jacket and tie. He walked head lowered, deep in thought, his manner
gruff; and he gave the impression he'd rather be anywhere but in the Bronx, among
people not exactly genteel in manner; who wore their emotions on their sleeves; and
were quick to take offence.
Once the elevator door closed Mrs. Haliburton sensed the physical advantage she might
otherwise not have had over him. Seizing the moment her ebullient nature slipped off
its leash.
Her voice boomed and walloped Pete Plimpler's head and ears as she complained
jocularly about the arbitrary nature of the elevator which some days got stuck with its
door open on one floor while people on other floors pressed the buttons, waiting and
waiting. Did he have any idea how many pounds she lost whenever this happened,
heaving herself up the stairs?
Her laughter made him cringe inside. He stood erect and smiled painfully, his winter
pale face tight with distress. Yes, he told her, he had been a victim of elevator misuse.
In more ways than she could ever imagine.
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!" a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 