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Part 1
The Wasp
Part 1 of 2
Leo hated summer.
He did not mind the long, humid days of summer. He did not mind the simmering mornings, the sluggish, gnatty evenings, or the scorching afternoons. Nor was he particularly fond of the colder months of the year, with their short, overcast days, chilly rains, and finally their ice and snow.
Leo hated summer because summer was the season of wasps.
He sat behind the walls of his cubicle at work one day in August, stealing glances out the large, floor-to-ceiling window near his desk. Sure enough: they were there: The distinctive outlines of their tiny bodies were stuck to the glass. There were three of them today. They were no more than an inch long; but their razor-edged stingers could deliver enough venom to paralyze a victim with agony.
Leo rolled his chair forward so he was hidden within his cubicle. If they saw him looking it would only make things worse. You had to stay one step ahead of the wasps, and you could never forget that their microscopic brains thrummed with evil intent. Not for the first time, Leo recalled that old German proverb: “God made the bee, but the Devil made the wasp.”
At noon he removed a brown paper bag from the bottom drawer of his desk. The bag contained a peanut-butter sandwich and an apple. Although Leo had been eating peanut butter sandwiches everyday since late May, he was not about to venture out for lunch. Insects were ectotherms, and the hot afternoon hours belonged to them. He would have to leave the building at five o’clock. And that would be risky enough.
As he was about to bite into his sandwich, his boss spoke up behind him:
“Hey, Leo,”
Leo swiveled around and faced his boss. He already knew what this visit was about.
“Anyway, Leo, we’re a little behind. I’m going to need you to pull a Saturday this week.”
Leo felt his frustration rise but he kept his voice flat. “But I worked last Saturday. And every Saturday last month, too.”
“Yes….And I’m asking you to work this Saturday as well.”
“But I’m the only one in the department who has to work Saturdays. Why is that?”
“Well, Jim’s kids have little league on Saturdays all summer long. Marcy is getting married in October, and she still doesn’t have all her wedding arrangements straight. And Craig—“
“I know,” Leo cut in. “Craig is going out of town with his new girlfriend again.”
“When you think about it, Leo, I’m doing you a favor. I’m giving you something to occupy yourself with while everyone else is busy with a life.”
And then Leo’s boss simply stood there, regarding him with a barely masked expression of disdain. Leo was going to protest further, and say that his boss knew nothing about his life. He simply kept himself to himself, that was all.
But he knew that any argument along that line would merely be answered with more disdain. His boss was likely in league with them. He had held this suspicion for months.
“I can count on you then?” his boss said. When Leo did not respond the boss laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Good man. Be a good man, and they won’t have to sting you.”
A lump of ice settled abruptly in Leo’s stomach. “What did you say?”
“:A figure of speech,” Leo’s boss said dismissively as he departed.
Leo swiveled back around into his cubicle and tried to steady himself. His boss had finally shown his hand. Leo seriously doubted that he was actually one of them. (Leo knew the telltale signs of an insect in human disguise; and so far his boss had shown none of them.) But there could be little doubt that the boss was working closely with the wasps.
After the initial shock wore off, Leo found that he was actually able to take courage from the revelation. The battle lines were being drawn, and some sort of a final showdown was approaching.
He had been preparing for this showdown his whole life. He decided that he should do something brave to get himself in the proper frame of mind for what lay ahead.
Amy Nelson’s phone number was scribbled on the Post-It pad beside his desk phone. Amy was a blind date that Leo’s cousin had arranged several weeks ago.
During their one “date”, Amy had not seemed to enjoy his company very much. Since then, she had ignored the two messages he had left in her voicemail. It didn’t matter. Women routinely ignored him. For all Leo knew, some of them might be in cahoots with the wasps too.
He abruptly decided that he would not call Amy again. If she did not have the courtesy to return his calls, then he would not humiliate himself with endless supplications. He tore the top sheet of paper from the Post-It pad—that one that contained her telephone number—and threw it into the wastebasket beneath his desk. Have a nice life, Amy, he thought.
Leo knew that his newfound resolve would likely be temporary. Throwing away a woman’s phone number was one thing—dealing with them was another.
And it only took one more glance out the window to cast him back into a pit of utter self-doubt.
The window that had previously been occupied by only three wasps was now covered by more than a dozen black, shiny insects. He had never counted more than four of them at this location.
Despite his fear, Leo felt a certain sense of satisfaction. However the situation played out, it would be over soon. His hands shaking, he finally took the first bite of his sandwich.
Before Leo shut down his computer later that afternoon he sent the boss a terse email: “Ask someone else to work this Saturday. I’ve got plans.”
Then he added a final line: “And I’m not afraid of being stung.”
The distance between Leo and his car seemed to span miles, although he knew he could cover it in a short sprint.
Leo stood in the glass enclosed foyer of the office building, oblivious to the five o’clock flow of his coworkers around him. Most people simply stepped around Leo; but there were a few aggravated grunts, and at least one speculative remark about the state of Leo’s sanity.
Leo did not care. His coworkers could afford to be blithe and carefree, their minds occupied by thoughts of evening television programs, and meals with children and spouses. They did not have to concern themselves with the wasps.
Seeing no sign of his enemies around the front entrance, Leo finally joined the flow and pushed his way through the pneumatic double doors. There were titters and more stares as he bolted free from the crowd, his legs pumping madly until his hand gripped the driver’s side door handle of the car. He yanked open the door (he had left it unlocked) and threw himself inside. Sweat coursed down his ribs inside his shirt and dampened his collar. Leo loosened his tie and exhaled.
The windshield was filling up with wasps.
There were more than twenty of them milling about on the glass, only inches from his face. He had beaten them to the car only by seconds; he had been in more danger than he had imagined.
Leo fished his keys out of his pocket and started the car. As soon as the engine was running he turned on the windshield wipers. See how they like that, he thought. The wipers initially caused all the wasps to scatter; but they did not go far, swarming and buzzing in a cloud above the hood. Then some of them began to attach themselves to the side windows. Leo looked in the rearview mirror and saw others crawling across the back window.
He drove off; he had been through this before. By the time the car reached the highway, the force of the wind was sufficient to dislodge all the wasps.
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Copyright 2009 Edward Trimnell All rights reserved
