“So now you’re ignoring me?” Neiman says, jokingly “usually you answer the phone even before I hear it ring. “Well” I say “I fell asleep on my couch in front of my new big screen TV, and that does tend to knock me out so I can’t hear anything.” There’s a silence on the other end. “Right” he says “that happens to me too. What kind of TV you get?” I look at it “it’s pretty big, pretty much covers my whole wall I expect.” Neiman whistles “not bad, not bad at all. What you gotta do though is get one of those projector screens, make the screen as big as you want, can cover the entire side of a building if you want. Now that’s what I call living.” “Is that what you have?” I ask “a big projector screen that covers the entire side of a building?” “No, but I heard that’s the way it should be done, but who am I? I don’t even watch TV.”
”Really?” I say, incredulously “then what do you do when you’re not working and not eating off the dollar menu at McDonald's? Come to think about it, I don’t know much about you, Neiman my man.” “Nothing much to tell” He says “I come here, I stay here, I do things here, and when I’m done, I go back to my apartment, and sit on the couch until it’s time to come back.” I sit up at this. This sounds familiar. “Oh really” I say causally, trying to contain the sound in the back of my throat, “what kind of couch do you got?” “Oh, it’s just a couch. I haven’t really paid much attention to it.” “Okay” I say “can I ask you something else?” “Shoot.” He says. Looks like I caught him in a talkative mood, maybe doesn’t have much on his plate today. Usually Neiman is like an old man telling you what to do from a leather chair while drinking brandy from a correct type of glass and taking a silver tray from a butler with a folded piece of paper on it that’s for some reason a telegram, even though those don’t exist any more. Or maybe they do. Do they?
I continue “Do you have anything in you medicine cabinet that doesn’t belong?” He pauses, “like what? Like an extra toothbrush or something?” “No” I say “like something someone may have left when they moved out, something on the very top of the shelf, maybe wrapped in brown paper or something.” He thinks on the other side of the phone. “Are you getting some kind of reading over there, you starting to see things in your head? That happens sometimes with this job, you work these files too much and you start to get some flashes here and there, like you know what’s going to happen. I must tell you, those aren’t real, it’s just a byproduct of working here. The other week I could swear one of my coworkers had a pound of sharp white cheddar cheese in his car. I couldn’t smell it, I just had the overwhelming feeling that there was a block of cheese in his car, like it wasn’t even a question. Weird, right?”
“Did he?” I ask
“did he what?”
”have a cheese in his car.”
”Oh. I don’t know. I was just using that as an example. I never thought to follow up on it. Even if he did have a cheese in his car, what does that have to do with me? If I was like, ‘I know you got a cheese in your car’ and I was right, that wouldn’t really accomplish anything, now would it? It would seem weird to him even if I was wrong about it. I just left it be. I don’t really care if it was true or not. That kind of information is a complete waste unless it’s your job. Like if you were a stage magician and you were like ‘you! Ma’am! Yes you! Sitting next to the man in the Cosby sweater! You’re wearing a green dress! Ah HA! Yes you! I can see it now! You have a cheese in your purse!’ If that was true, the whole place would applaud when she held up the cheese, but you think my coworker is going to hold up the cheese and applause is going to suddenly break out? I don’t think so. Just leave it alone.””I get it” I say, “but it’s not for that, not for applause or anything. I’m just curious. I have something in my medicine cabinet that someone left and I was wondering if that’s something everyone has, or if I was the only one. Kind of an experiment, like. If you could check for me, I would be pretty happy. Could even probably snap out three or four of those red files in one day if you got me that info. I would be mighty grateful!”
Neiman sighs “sure, whatever, I’ll check it out when I get home. You ready?” Once again I write out the words on my whiteboard and hang up when Neiman is done and I’ve verified I have them right. I hope Neiman calls me tomorrow and tells me there’s nothing in his medicine cabinet that doesn’t belong. I don’t know what I’ll do if he has a hotel soap wrapped in brown paper. True to my word and Neiman being true to my boast, I get four red files done today. They were all pretty straightforward, only one was a little tricky, but I’ve started to understand what the files were asking pretty much the first time I read them out loud. I had to put flower pots on someone’s car, take a churro from a churro stand without anyone noticing, offer a furniture warehouse worker one dollar for a thousand dollar item and roll an old fashioned wagon wheel down a steep hill in the park in the middle of town. Pretty easy stuff for the most part. The wagon wheel job got me a little heat when a parent started shouting at me, but I hightailed it out of there and got home okay by using back alleys.
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I expect Neiman to call me the next day since that’s been our routine, but this time I get a call when I’m getting comfy on my couch, way later than I expected Neiman to still be at the office. This must be his sittin’ on the couch until it’s time to go back to work time of day. “Neiman!” I say “What a pleasant surprise! You sittin’ on your couch?” “Yep” Neiman says, “just waitin’ until it’s time to go back to work. “I heard that” I say. Neiman says, “I checked out my medicine cabinet.”
“And?” I say excitedly.
“Do you want a round of applause? There’s a hotel soap wrapped in brown wax paper. Someone must have left it before moving out. That’s all you wanted, right?”
“Sure, sure” I say, thinking wildly about how I can keep Neiman on the phone. I have one more question to ask him. One more thing that would turn this from a coincidence into a surety. “Can I ask you just one more thing?” Neiman sighs, “sure. Go ahead.”
“Is there anything inside your fridge?” Neiman pauses. “Why do you want to know what’s inside my fridge?”
”Oh” I say, “you know, just trying to get to know my boss a little bit more. I don’t get out much, and when I do, I can’t exactly talk to people, you know? Might tip them off. I almost got busted by a dude in the park when I rolled that wheel down that hill.”
I hear Neiman grunt as he stands up. I hear a fridge opening. Neiman says, “nope, nothing in here. I eat out a lot. I don’t even know why I have one of these, I should probably get rid of it and put in like a shelving unit or something. Make better use of my space. Like a feng shui sort of thing. You ever hear of that? Putting up mirrors everywhere and changing lighting inside your house so it looks mighty fine?” I don’t answer, “nothing at all in there?” I ask again. Neiman pauses. I can hear him grunt some more and it sounds like he’s bending over now, looking in that top part of the fridge that hides all the things that end up going bad, all while you stand there, looking for something to eat. All the while there’s that spot, holding on to old food for dear life.
“Ope, I see a box of baking powder.” I hear a sniffing sound. A familiar sniffing sound. “Smells weird, like it’s been in here for a while. You know the smell of freezer burn? It smells kind of like that. And look, it’s expired. Good thing I keep it around, definitely get into all sorts of situations where I need to have some expired baking soda around.” He gives a chuckle. I don’t. I don’t chuckle at all. “Neiman my man” I say, “you all ever have any kind of office parties at that office? I would love to put some faces to names you know, feel like part of a team if I know what everyone looks like. Know what you look like. I mean, we’ve been talking every day and I still don’t know what you look like. You said you were small, but are you? I’m always picturing a miniature person, using a matchbox for a desk and sleeping inside a larger matchbox filled with cotton swabs or something. But you said you have a couch and refrigerator and a place to stay.” Neiman exhales out of his nose in a little chuckle at that, “no, I’m not a little GI Joe or something, I mean, I’m not six foot or anything, but I can still reach the petals in my car when I need to. Normal sized is what I am. That’s pretty funny. You thought I was like, what, an inch tall?”
”well, when we first talked...”
Neiman laughs hard, “I can’t wait to get back in the office tomorrow and tell everyone you thing we’re all small enough to fit inside a cereal box. You sir, are hilarious.”
I chuff wind out of my nose “yep” I say “pretty crazy. Well. Thanks for checking on the medicine cabinet and the fridge for me. Fixing my curiosity and all.”
“You got it, buddy.” Neiman says, “that’s what I’m hear for. Let me know if I can help you out again. Bye bye.” He hangs up. I hang up the phone slowly. Neiman is the man with the skinmouth. I’ve been in his apartment. I have his key.