First Day

julianna george

Once I have made sure that all the blinds are closed, I slip into my skin.

First I pat myself down with something they call baby powder. Next I slide on my set of toes, then heave on thighs and calves made of silicone. I shove my arm on and pull with nearly futile jerking motions until I can reach fingers. Carefully, I shift each digit into place and then clench my hand into a fist. Back and forth, back and forth, I clench and unclench both hands to feel the silicone fingers tug against each of my true extremities.

Once satisfied, I reach my encumbered arm behind me to zip up the back. With the suit of skin restricting my movement, I struggle to drag the zipper all the way to the beginning of my neck, but with enough effort and unusual flexibility I hitch it to the top.

My stiff and rubbery fingers slide in contacts that don’t quite fit my sockets. I apply glue above and below my eyes, around my mouth and nose. Then I tug on my head. Carefully, I press each feature into place, gaze pinned to the mirror as I make myself human for the day. I tuck pieces of neck into the rest of the suit. Fake teeth in position and wig combed out, I am finally man.

Cramped as I am inside this foreign body, I must pile on even more layers to blend in. Socks and underwear, then pants plus a belt, a shirt and a tie are all things that have been deemed appropriate to wear on one’s first day of work. Despite my diligence to assume this human uniform, I almost forget to put on shoes before I walk out the door.

The final touch, however, is the lanyard with the name ‘John’ printed on the tag that hangs off the end. My name isn’t John, at least it hadn’t been until last week when I had my first job interview. I’m happy to say I must have impressed my new manager because I was hired on the spot. Perhaps he had noticed my perfectly laced shoes. I had practiced the bunny ears method over and over the night before and hadn’t left the house the next day until I had tied a perfect knot.

With one last look in the mirror I practice what I hope is a suitable smile and walk out the door. After a tenuous bus ride where I spent more time looking at my fellow passengers than out the window, I arrive at my stop. I walk the rest of the way to Spencer Kay’s, the central store in the strip mall. I pass through the sliding glass doors, pausing to marvel at them a second time. I am tempted to walk back and forth between them again and again like I had when I came for the interview, but Scott - my manager - spots me from beside the cash register.

“John!” He calls, and even though he is looking right at me, it still takes me a moment to realize who he is speaking to. “Come over here,” he says when I do not move. I obey, even though I would rather turn right back around to see the doors open for me once more.

“Hello, Scott.” I say and then pull a toothy smile too late.

Scott looks up at me with a tight lipped smile of his own before turning to gesture towards a woman dressing a mannequin.“I’m gonna put you with Tammy for training today. I’d say she’s been here for a century, so if you’ve got any questions about anything, she’ll know the answer.”

I nod, unsure what to say. I keep the smile plastered across my face.

“Tammy!” Scott shouts, startling me. “You’re with the new guy today, got it?”

Tammy looks up upon hearing her name and sighs as soon as she lays eyes on me. I wonder if I have not put on my tie correctly today. Or maybe there is something wrong with my face. I reach up to press my knuckle against my cheek. Am I being too obvious? I stop as soon as I realize, flinging my arm back down to my side just a bit too quickly.

Scott reaches up to pat me on the shoulder and I freeze as his hand lands against me. Can he tell? Do I feel human to him? Does he know what I really am?

“Go on now, son.” Scott interrupts, inclining his head towards Tammy. That is when I notice I have been standing here too long.

I hurry over to Tammy and the mannequin, both of them eyeing me with less than impressed looks. I glance back for Scott’s approval, but he has already turned away. “Hello, I’m John,” I say, swallowing the foul taste of a lie in my mouth. “What’s your name?” I ask, because I have been taught this is how humans do things.

She lifts her name tag up to my face, but she can’t quite reach. “Tammy. Says it right here.” Tammy eyes me up and down. “You look spiffy,” She says in a tone I cannot decipher, but she is right. I do look “spiffy” and she is wearing yoga pants. For a moment I wonder if that is what I should have worn instead. Tammy has worked here a very long time, surely she would know the dress code.

“You don’t really look like you’re over a century old,” is what I say in return. Tammy’s head jerks backward. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open before her face momentarily freezes.

“What?” She asks. Then, before I can respond, “Who do you think you are, saying somethin’ like that to me?” she sputters out in a way that causes me to stumble back in surprise.

“But Scott said-”

Tammy throws her hand up, cutting me off. “I don’t wanna hear it! Big guys like you feel like you can get away with anything. Well you’re wrong. You and your generation think you can treat me however you want. Well I won’t have it.”

“Tammy, I don’t understand, what did I do?” How have I screwed this all up so quickly?

“Oh don’t play coy with me, you know.” Tammy tosses the sweater she’d been folding at my chest and spins on her heel. I fumble to catch it, my surprise morphing into frustration. Before I can even say another word Tammy is already storming away, over to Scott’s office.

Stunned, I remain standing beside the mannequin. It looks down on me with a blank stare, its fiberglass body not unlike the one I wear. The mannequin gazes past my layers of fabric and silicone, past my flesh and blood and bones and deep into my very core.

It knows what I am and it knows I can never be anything else.