Being Invisible Read Online Free PDF

encountered here, Wagner’s colleague walked with a lowered head, and when he raised it his eyes were heavy-lidded and lusterless.
    In the next instant, recognizing Wagner, he altered his state dramatically.
    “Fred!” he cried, failing to say “Ferd” or some variant no doubt because they were not alone. Wagner would not have credited him with such delicacy. “What are you doing in another part of the forest?”
    Wagner’s response was a lugubrious “Hi.” He might have had the nerve to proceed onward without introducing his wife had Babe not claimed the initiative.
    “I’m Carla,” said she, going so far as to extend her hand to a person who had no greater recommendation than that he knew her husband’s given name. (Wagner chided her later: “He could have been a criminal.” “Oh, come on, is that likely?”)
    Of course Pascal was thrilled for once to have acceptance thrust upon him. “I’ve certainly heard a lot about you,” he eagerly lied, shaking her hand too long.
    No doubt Babe would have stayed and talked to the man had her husband not insisted they were late for the movie, a misrepresentation that was exposed when they reached the theater, twenty-five minutes early.
    If Pascal had seen Babe only once and by chance, he had certainly not been apprised of her flying the coop.
    “She’s fine,” Wagner said now, through his teeth. He brandished the soda can. “This is awful!” He disposed of it in the nearby container, baffled as to why he had drunk so much of it as he had.
    “Ferdie old boy, we need stronger stuff. Close up your desk and I’ll meet you at the elevators and we’ll stop off at Swan’s.” Pascal referred to the nearest watering place, or anyway the closest that was acceptable to the office gang. He quickly walked away, before Wagner could say no. Which meant he would stand guard at the elevator and be all that much tougher to reject.
    Wagner had never been one of Swan’s crowd. Now that Babe was gone, he returned home as promptly as ever, so that he would not be asked embarrassing questions if found lingering.
    Despite the vow he had made after the unsatisfactory experience at noon, he now returned to his desk, which was so situated that no one routinely could see all of it on passing, pressed himself into the least conspicuous corner, and became invisible. It seemed to him that the process took less time than it had in any of the trials or in the post office. In any event he could not be seen only a few moments later when Mary Alice Phillips’ quizzical expression appeared at the entrance to the cubicle.
    A moment afterwards he heard her ask Delphine Root, the woman whose space was separated from his by their respective fiberglass partitions and a water cooler, “Fred’s still here, isn’t he?”
    “Darned if I know,” said Delphine, no doubt amidst escaping smoke, for a lighted cigarette was her constant companion.
    Invisibly and quietly, Wagner covered his typewriter and dropped the papers into the deepest drawer, wincing in revulsion at the thought of the flashlight-pen. Hardly was this completed when back came Mary Alice, who peeped in again, almost impaling the unseen Wagner on a nose sharp with chagrin.
    Again she stopped at Delphine’s lair. She complained, “He must have walked right past me. His stuff’s all put away for the day.”
    “He’ll be back tomorrow,” Delphine said indifferently. She added, “Death and taxes.” She was beginning to sound malicious, though he had never quarreled with her.
    “Well, it is closing time,” said Mary Alice. “I came around too late.”
    “Sticking up for him, I see,” Delphine said drily.
    Mary Alice’s voice was soft. “He’s just been nice to me, is all.”
    Wagner had stepped out of his niche and come forward as far as the water cooler. He wanted to observe Mary Alice’s expression at close hand. She was scarcely the glamour girl of Pascal’s fantasies, but she was comely enough. Her skin though