"our hell is a good hell..."

I was under Betty's desk. She was in an all day meeting and I thought it was the nicest office to hang out in. I liked the colour... it was like a warm shade of lemmon loaf. I started crying again thinking about home baking. More the stuff that my grandmother made not some made up down-homey June Clever moment from my parents homelife.
Leaning up against a cabinet tucked under the desk I sniffed and pulled my knees up. Am I having a nervous breakdown? There's no time for the gay secretary to freak out. Crying again but no sound except the soft puffs of wheezy breath I choke out. God I hope Betty doesn't come in any time soon. I'm so scared and racked with anxiety I don't know what to do with myself... This is so embarassing... If anyone found me...
Little feet scurry in and before I can emerge Betty is throwing herself under the desk and curling up her legs tightly.
"Uh... Betty?"
"AH!" Smack smack. "Fuck god! Damn!" Smack. "Shit! What the hell are you doing under here."
"Crying what does it look like?!"
"What? What's wrong?" Betty was wonderful. She was that rare boss that cared without making you uncomfortable... Small talk with substance... and able to make even the most daffy of clients managable yobs.
"Hoy! How long have you been under here!"
"Oh... just for a bit. See I like your office walls. They look like lemmon loaf and..." And I started crying again and just flopped over onto her shoulder and tried to stem a snotty nose with a soaking tissue.
"Shh shh... No seriously... Shhh..."
Hiccuping between words... "Wh... wha... what? What's wrong?"
"Becky... We're on our lunch break and I need to hide."
Outside the office door a plaintiff little voice called out. "Betty? Betty? Are you out there? I want to go out for lunch! I can't sit still... please come out with me... "
The voice passed.
"That's a little mean..."
"Oh sure, fine. You go out there and deal with the Pregnant Wonder."
Again the voice floated past the office. "Guyyyyyys? hello? I want to go out for taco bell... guys?"
"She sounds a little off..."
"Apparently her husband won't have sex with her now. Afraid that it'll give the baby brain damage or something."
"That's bullshit. Did you know that sex before the due date is even benificial with softening up the..."
"La la la la la la...had my kids with the help of powerful pain medications la la la...."
"Fine." I honked into my nearly disintigrated hanky.
"Well what's up with you and supplimental question, why are you under my desk sobbing?"
"I can't do this.. I can't go home to my dad's sister's place..."
"it's just for the weekend. You'll be fine. Just calm down... shh shh..."
Becky called out again in a more pained and tearful voice. Are we all falling apart?
"We should say something."
"No... it's just what she wants us to think."
A snarly voice called out from what sounded like the middle of the office in a terrifying scream. "WHERE IS EVERYONE?!"
I jolted and clutched at Betty's arm. "Betty I'm scared..."
"I know, I know. I am too. Now, let's talk about what's wr..." Betty's office chair was ripped away and Ilsa blindly dove down under the desk and bowled us over. She almost screamed but Betty clamped a tight little hand down over her open lips. "Be cool... Be cool..."
"Vas... Vas... Vas ist...Vhat are you all doing under here? This is my hiding spot!"
"It's MY fucking desk!"
"Language!"
"Ilsa, you called Bob a shitmeat sandwhich today I don't need a lecture on potty mouth."
"Potty what? Oh god I vill never understand all these phrases..."
"Shh! The both of you..." Again the voice floated past.
Ilsa whispered a terse, "Be still..." And again she was gone.
"Vas is you doing under here?"
"The walls remind me of lemmon loaf and..."
"Betty! I can't take this Becky must have this baby soon. If I have to hold her hair back while she pukes into toilet... Agh!"
"Oh, wah wah. I had to help her get off the toilet TWICE this week. And the one time she messaged my Blackberry on my day off to get me into the office to come help her."
"Yeah Betty wins."
"Choo! You could be more helpful Nathan."
"ME? You're serious? She kills anything with a penis within a 10 metre radius. I'm not rolling up my sleeves to go into the bathroom to wipe her ass."
Ilsa checked out my puffy eyes intently. "Vas is wrong with you? Were you under here crying Nathan?"
"No..." I squeaked it out in a really unconvincing way.
"I used to hide under the big piano in my parents livingroom before they'd send me back to boarding school." Ilsa and I both turned to look at Betty.
"Yoo didn't like it so much huh?"
She looked forward with a sad smile on her face. "I would be silent for a week before school started again. I thought if I didn't make a noise they wouldn't notice me... that they'd forget to pack my bag and I'd be left here."
"Ya, vell I couldn't wait until my parents sent me to school. I didn't even know them... they were just people who paid for school bills."
"I went to public school and got the shit kicked out of me every day until I brought a pipe to school and beat a boy with it until he was unconscious."
"Holy shit... see? This is vhy I don't send kids to public school."
"OH PLEASE like private schools are any better. Rich kids? Too much money? Too much animosity? Ilsa, are you saying you were the model student?"
"Still, ist better than public schools for sure."
Betty was still looking forward and I still had my arm looped around hers. Tight squeeze and she rested her head on my shoulder. This was an HR nightmare all folded up under a desk.
"Why have children if you're going to send them away? Like they're some sort of inconvienence? I would cry and cry before I had to leave. No matter what they still gave me a swat and put me back on the train to school at the end of summer holiday."
Wow. I guess rich people can be fucked up too. Oh great now Betty's sad. Ilsa chewed on a nonexistant finger nail quietly. There we sat for a good 20 minutes in silence. It was good to just shut the hell up and stay under there. The phone rang above our heads until Betty yanked the cord out of the jack. Small sigh of pleasure.
"What time are we supposed to go back to the meeting?"
"In a couple of minutes."
"I vonder of old shitmeat's going to talk some more..."
"Ilsa, please... be professional."
"Meester Shitmeat."
"Better."
"Maybe we should stagger out exit. People get fired around here for less."
Both of them wiped at their eyes. Great. My misery is contagious.
Ilsa left first and knocked on the doorframe to alert Betty to leave next... Then me. knock knock nothing. Betty knocked harder. "Nate, let's go. If you're going to cry under my desk all day maybe you should take the afternoon off."
Still under the desk. "You need me to go shopping for Abby's birthday don't you?"
"I don't know what to get her!" Sigh and highheel shoe tapping. "I'll give you my debit card and you can get a coffee."
"Oh wow. Shopping for your first born child and I get a COFFEE!"
"Ahem!"
"Can I get a piece of pie?"
"One piece of pie."
"Can I get a puppy?"
"No puppy."
"Deal... Deal... Can I have like another minute under here?"
"Yes... and, come talk to me if, you know, you need to ok?"
"Got it."
"Try not to let anyone see you."
Sniff. "I know I know."
"Thanks... Call me after 4 and I'll come get you. And Nate,"
"Yes I know. If HR finds out squeal on everyone but each other."
"Atta boy."
"Thanks Betty."