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CALVIN BIGALOW

Langley, Virginia

C alvin Bigalow walked into the human resources office with his head held high. He was sure he was being terminated—an unscheduled leave of absence was probably a firing offense—but he hadn’t taken a single vacation or personal day since he started. He was prepared to fight for his job.

Mrs. Grossman was a pin-thin woman with a gray bun and huge glasses. She sat behind her desk with a tight expression. When Calvin opened his mouth to deliver his prepared speech, she held up a bony hand. “Mr. Bigalow, follow me.”

She picked up a cardboard box containing his meager belongings from the mailroom—a fern he had rescued from the trash, an Albert Einstein bobblehead, and a framed photo of his work friends from a holiday party.

In the elevator, Calvin cleared his throat and began his speech. “Mrs. Grossman, in my tenure as an associate correspondence clerk, I have been an exemplary employee—”

She cut him off. “Save it for Bristol, Mr. Bigalow. I don’t handle salary negotiations.”

Salary negotiations? When the doors opened, Mrs. Grossman walked ahead of him and pushed open the door to the analyst bullpen where Sofria, Stella , had worked. Sasha and a few of the other analysts stood and clapped. What was happening?

Mrs. Grossman set his box of things on Sofria Kirk’s old desk. She faced Calvin and murmured, “Your promotion came from above. Way above. Good luck, Mr. Bigalow.”

Calvin’s face broke into a grin so wide, his face hurt.

Sasha popped her head over the cubicle with a freckle-faced smile.

“Congrats, Cal.” Then she whispered, “No one knows what you did, but it must have been something big. I know you can’t talk about it.

That’s okay. Your calendar and virtual inbox are on your computer, and you have a meeting with Bristol in an hour. ”

Calvin realized he was nodding along with his mouth open and quickly did his best to look professional. “Oh, okay. Sure, sure.”

“We’re going to Fido’s after work to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” he asked.

“You, silly. Maybe after we can grab dinner?” Sasha’s cheeks turned pink.

“Yeah.” Calvin cleared his throat. “Yes, that sounds really great.”

“Okay, perfect.”

When Sasha disappeared behind the cubicle wall, and Calvin was sure no one was looking, he sat and spun in the chair with a double fist pump. Stopping the motion with his feet, he tucked into his new desk and got to work.

Calvin ran his hands over the smooth surface and remembered Sofria—no, Stella—working in the same space. He didn’t know where Stella was or what she was doing, but he hoped she was happy.