Acid Rain by R.D Rhodes (literature books to read .txt) 📗

able to handle it. My stomach felt like it was full of eels. I tried to settle myself, to tell myself that this was where I needed to be. That I would be fine. But I couldn’t do it. I looked out through the fog at my future, at all those miles of windows. I scanned the rows from the first floor to the second to the third. There was no movement in any of them. Just bright lights, empty rooms and corridors. I wondered which one I would be looking out from.

“It’ll be okay.” Mack said. “The first few days are always the most nerve-wracking, but wait till you get settled in. You’ll be fine.”

The way she said it, lilting the last sentence, was obviously forced. She wasn’t usually that insincere, but I think she tried to convince herself, as well as me. I watched her as she stumped out her fag and dropped it out the window, the cigarette being followed out by a fierce billow of smoke. She pulled up the window and I looked at her side-on, and in that profile, she seemed to age ten years. Her eyes were tired and baggy, frustrated, and they betrayed the warm, reassuring smile that she was now trying to give me. Those deep-set eyes lined with wrinkles, eyes that had obviously seen a lot and grown weary with it all. She looked almost as tired as I felt.

A cold air swept up my spine and made me shiver. “I don’t want to go.” a quiet voice said from within me.

“C’mon it’ll be fine. Just wait till you get settled in.”

I got up to move, then stalled a few more minutes. Again, I looked up and down the rows of windows. Hopefully I’ll get straight to bed and sleep this off, I thought. It had been one hell of a day.

I sighed and reached behind the chair and grabbed my bag from the back seat. I took a deep breath, clicked open the door, and stepped out onto the concrete.

Chapter 6

M ack locked the car and we walked together to the blue double-entrance doors. One of them was slightly ajar and Mack stepped in front and pushed it open.

I waited on the step and glanced back at the car park one more time.

I drew my breath and stepped inside.

The blinding light in the corridor stung my eyes, and the custard yellow walls only added to the brightness. I walked slowly along the squeaky marble floor, all the way Mack sticking so close that she kept brushing against my side, but I knew her well enough to know that she was just trying to comfort me, that it wasn’t to prevent me from turning back. It did cross my mind though, but where else could I go? I wondered, as we walked halfway down the hall till we reached a hole in the wall, where behind the glass window a lady sat at a computer- the receptionist’s office.

She looked up from the monitor.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, thanks,” Mack replied. “I’m here with Aisha McGillivray.”

The receptionist gawked at me and then turned back to Mack, addressing her as if I wasn’t there, “Someone will be right down. Just take a seat please.”

I watched her pick up a phone and hold it to her ear while we went into the alcove opposite her window. The cushion-seats were rimmed around a table fully covered in glossy, brightly colored magazines and I edged my way around it and sank my bum into the soft fabric. Mack plumped herself down next to me.

I tried to stop shaking but it was getting worse. I clenched my fists, then I held my knees, and when that didn’t work I tried some breathing exercises. An arm slid around my back, Mack was still looking at the table while she gently rubbed my shoulder.

It was almost as quiet inside as it was outdoors, all I could hear was the buzz from the neon lights hanging above our heads. But sitting there I started to feel a bit better. The alcove shape, the rimmed seats and the magazines on the table reminded me of an old hospital I used to go to, a place that for me used to be a home from home. Maybe this will be too, I hoped.

After a few minutes, Mack slid her arm out and started rummaging about in her handbag. She brought it up onto her knees, raked about some more, then brought out a notebook and pen. I watched to see what she was writing. She ripped out the page and handed it to me.

“Phone me anytime you want,” she said. “My work and mobile number are there.” She raised her eyebrows and it made her eyes bigger, “Anytime okay?”

“Thank you.” I said. I folded it up and slid it into my jeans pocket. Then I scanned the table and picked up a National Geographic. I leafed through the pages, just looking at the pictures.

An eternity seemed to pass. The electric lights went on buzzing away. Through the glass window I could see the receptionist typing busily. I wondered if she was actually doing work or was just scrolling Facebook.

“Where the hell is she?” Mack muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. She went back into her handbag and pulled out a packet of humbugs. “You want a sweet?”

“No, thanks.” I said. I flicked a few more pages of lions and rocks and sheep and coral reefs without really taking anything in, when just then a Clack-Clack-Clacking noise came from far away and got louder, its high pitch bouncing off the walls and reverberating down the corridor into the space where I sat. I looked up from the magazine, and seen a blonde lady in a knee-high black dress emerge from behind