Girls in White Dresses

At night in her apartment, Isabel a talked out loud more often. “I’m tired,” she said to the TV. “It’s exhausting having no idea what you’re doing al day,” she told the rug. “I think I’m just going to order Chinese,” she confessed to the coffee table, while lying on the couch.

“Maybe you should get a dog,” Lauren suggested. “Or a cat.”

“Lauren, if you ever tel me to get a cat again, we are not friends anymore. Okay?”

“Touchy, touchy,” Lauren said. Then she considered it and said, “That’s fair.”

“I met a guy,” Lauren told her. “He’s great.” Isabel a immediately hoped that it wouldn’t work out, and then felt awful about that. Lauren was her friend, but she didn’t want to be the last single one standing.

“Come out with us tonight,” Lauren said. “He’s going to bring some friends. What do you say?”

“Yes,” Isabel a said.

Isabel a walked into the bar, and Lauren rushed up to her. “So, none of his friends could make it. Sorry! But I want you to meet him.” She grabbed Isabel a’s hand and pul ed her over to the table. “This is Brian,” she said, and Isabel a was relieved. He looked like Bert from Sesame Street—no, he looked like Bert with pockmarked skin. Isabel a smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Isabel a sat and drank her vodka soda, while Lauren and Bert held each other in long hugs. “How’s the new job?” Lauren asked, with her face in Bert’s shoulder.

“Great,” Isabel a said. “Everything I hoped.”

Isabel a’s new boss was cal ed Snowy. She had a skunk stripe in her hair and was frighteningly skinny. Sometimes when she walked down the hal , Isabel a was sure her legs were going to pop right off, like a Barbie dol ’s. Snowy was only ten years older than Isabel a, and a star in the publishing world. When Isabel a started, Snowy told her that she wanted to be a mentor, not a boss. “I want to help you learn, to help you become a star here.”

Snowy had two assistants, and Isabel a was hired to be the second one. The first assistant was a twenty-two- year-old named Cate, with shiny brown hair and an amazing wardrobe. The day Isabel a started, Cate took her to lunch at a fancy French place and used Snowy’s credit card. “I used to be the second assistant, but the first girl left because she said Snowy was impossible to work for,” Cate told her.

“Is she?” Isabel a asked.

Cate shrugged. “I mean, yeah, she’s a nightmare. But don’t worry. Just do your job and try not to get upset when she yel s.”

“Okay,” Isabel a said. They went back upstairs and Cate showed Isabel a how to do Snowy’s expenses.

That night, when Mary asked Isabel a how work was, she said, “Today, I got career advice from a twenty- two-year-old.”

“It’l get better,” Mary said.

“God, I hope so.”

About three times a day, Snowy dropped a pile of little scrap papers and Post-its on Isabel a’s desk. They had handwritten notes on them, most of which made no sense. “Here,” Snowy would say as she gave them to her, “file these.” Isabel a, unsure of what to do with the notes, typed them up and kept the originals in a file folder, in case Snowy ever asked for them. One time, Isabel a found a Kleenex in the pile of papers. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked Cate.

Cate just wrinkled her nose and said, “Gross.”

One morning, Snowy dropped a manuscript on Isabel a’s desk. “Why don’t you read this and get back to me?” Isabel a held it with both hands on the subway home, afraid that she was going to lose it. She stayed up most of the night, reading it and writing out notes. Everything she wrote sounded stupid. The main character is too one-dimensional, she wrote. Then she crossed it out. The main character does not have enough depth, she wrote instead. “At one point in my life, I was smart,” she thought.

In the morning, Isabel a’s head and eyes hurt. When she went into Snowy’s office to drop off the manuscript, she thought she was going to wet herself. She felt homesick for the list company, just for a second, and then handed her notes to Snowy. When Snowy handed them back to her later, Isabel a could see that she’d crossed out almost every note Isabel a had written. No, she’d written in mean red pen. Not clear enough.

“You’l get the hang of it,” she told Isabel a. Isabel a went to the handicapped bathroom and cried for ten minutes. Then she got up, splashed her face with water, and went back to her desk. Cate smiled at her sadly.

Cave Publishing was closed the last week of August, and Isabel a decided to go home. Her mom had suggested it, and Isabel a almost wept with relief when she did. She was tired of getting Snowy coffee. She was tired of having Snowy tel her that she was doing her job wrong. She was tired of the name Snowy.

“That would be great, Mom,” Isabel a said. She was looking forward to having someone cook for her. She could stay in sweatpants al day if she wanted.

“Oh, that wil be fun!” her mom said. “Plus, you can help out with Connor. I’m sure he’l love to see you.”

Isabel a’s nephew Connor was spending most of the summer at her parents’ house. He had been asked to leave camp after he screamed at a counselor for changing the schedule. Apparently, the Guppies were supposed to have free swim after crafts, and the unassuming teenager had tried to mix it up and take them to archery instead. Connor flipped out and charged the counselor, head-butting him and screaming, “You idiot

asshole!” The head of the camp thought that Connor showed signs of “unusual aggression,” and that it would be better if he didn’t come back to camp. With no backup child-care plan for Connor, Joseph had asked his parents for help.