Meg Larimer's life of crime began on her fortieth birthday--the day she learned
she was invisible.
She was strolling down the mezzanine of the Brush Prairie Mall, flanked by her
teenage daughters. A man approached, glanced one daughter up and down,
slithered over Meg without the least acknowledgment, and glued onto her
daughter on the other side with that same up and down once-over.
I'll be darned, Meg thought. He looked right past me, as if I'm not even here.
Men had been admiring Meg since she was fourteen, and she'd grown to expect
that. She knew she had a certain pizzazz, and she knew men enjoyed looking at
her. Or used to. When had this changed?
Once she noticed this, she realized it happened all the time. Men looked right
through her as though she were invisible. It was unsettling. No, it was
downright insulting.
One day she went to the hardware store to buy a hammer and some plumbing
supplies. She couldn't find what she needed, but no one came to help her. The
male clerks waited on the men and younger women, but somehow no one saw Meg.
I wonder how long I could stand here without being noticed, she thought. She
moved to block the aisle near the service counter. A busy clerk stepped around
her and hurried to help a man who had just entered the store.
I'll bet if I put this hammer in my bag, it would get someone's attention, she
thought. But it didn't.
She walked out without paying. Nothing happened. She felt a slight twinge of
guilt overlaid by a deep anger. Her husband, Josh, liked the new hammer.
In the next few weeks, Meg tested her invisibility. She discovered she could go
almost anywhere and do almost anything, and some women would notice her, but
men never did.
I can do whatever I damned well please, she thought, as long as I do it around
men.
She picked up a few candy bars at the grocery store. No one noticed. Her sense
of power escalated. It became a game to see how much she could get away with.
She walked off with a two-foot statue from an art gallery, just carried it out
as if she owned it. No one said a word. She left it in the vestibule; she
didn't really want it.
She pilfered a six-foot ladder and a wheelbarrow from the Yard and Garden Shop
on Highway 99, on two separate visits. She almost got caught. A female clerk
came back from break just as Meg wheeled out the wheelbarrow and yelled,
"Stop, thief."
The male clerk looked around and said, "Where? What?" While he was
trying to locate the thief, Meg walked briskly away with the wheelbarrow.
Now Meg had never been the criminal type. She'd grown up in a sheltered home,
married early, borne two children, and lived a rather anonymous life. But
suddenly being invisible really bothered her. Every time a man looked through
her--or around her, or away from her--and didn't see her, Meg would seethe.
The man who didn't see her the most, she observed, was Josh, her husband. That
was the most disturbing of all. He didn't see her at home, and he didn't see
her at the bank, where he worked. She stood right in the open door of his
office one day, for five minutes, and he never noticed. It was amazing how many
times a day he ignored her.
Meg obsessed over how she could make Josh really notice her. Days, she mulled
over the problem. Nights, it interfered with her sleep. Josh noticed her lack
of sleep.
"For God's sake, Meg, will you quit fidgeting? How the heck do you expect
a man to get a decent night's sleep around here?"
Meg lay awake, her mind playing hopscotch. What could she do to get Josh's
attention? And keep it? He wasn't a bad husband. He loved her; she loved him.
But where had all the romance gone? She wanted him to see her, admire her, lust
after her the way he used to when she was younger.
When the answer occurred to her, it was almost too simple, and too dramatic, to
contemplate. She'd rob a bank, but not just any bank. She'd rob the bank where
her husband worked. Later, she'd give him the spoils to return back, so it
wouldn't really be a theft, but this would be something he'd have to notice.
She said to Josh, "What would you think if I robbed your bank?"
He didn't even glance up from his newspaper. He said, "Fine."
"And kidnapped a security guard."
"Fine, whatever you want."
"Josh, are you listening to me?"
This time he put his newspaper down and looked directly at her. "Meg, why
do you ask me that? You know I always listen to
you."
"Oh, okay," she said.
That did it! She decided to rob the bank. She gave it a lot of thought since
this was a totally new experience for her and she wanted to do it right. She
wrote out a step-by-step action plan. She surveyed the bank long enough to know
the three women tellers went to Sandy's Kitchen for clam chowder every Friday
at 12:45. The bank was always short-handed at lunchtime then because Mr.
Crowder, the bank president, took every Friday afternoon off. She clocked it to
the minute. The heist would take place on Friday, at 1:00 p.m. sharp.
She went to a toy store and bought a black plastic toy pistol, an obvious fake,
but she practiced, in front of a mirror, opening her handbag and showing only
part of the toy gun. It was amazing how real it looked from just a quick peek.
She also practiced "Give me all your money," in a low, husky voice
totally unlike her own.
Meg was certain of her invisibility to men, but she still planned her costume
carefully. She wanted to fit in with other bank customers, but she still wanted
to look her best. She bought a new push-up Wonder Bra; the first she'd ever
tried, and decided her cleavage wasn't half bad. Then she chose a form-fitting
red dress, snug in all the right places. After putting on the matching red high
heel shoes, she pranced back and forth in front of the mirror.
"Not bad for an old lady. Not bad at all!"
She splurged on a pedicure and manicure, bought a new lipstick, and had her
hair done. In the fun of getting ready, she almost forgot what she was getting
ready for. She reminded herself by practicing her low husky voice.
When the target Friday came, in her eagerness, she arrived a bit early. It was
awkward, pacing the street in front of the bank. She knew she couldn't go in
until the female tellers had left. She hadn't had lunch, but she didn't want to
go to Sandy's Kitchen where the female tellers ate. She'd never eaten at
Mario's next door, but spaghetti sounded okay so she went in.
Mario himself came over to wait on her, almost as soon as she walked in the
door.
"Hello, hello," he sang out. "You haven't been here in a long
time."
"I've never been here," she said.
"Oh, yes, you have, my dear, how could I forget? Those eyes? Those lips?
That smile? My dear, we have been missing you." He waved his arm grandly.
"What can I get you? Do you want fettuccine? Lasagna? Wine?"
"No, no," she said quickly. "I want something simple. A small
bowl of spaghetti."
"With freshly chopped sun dried tomatoes. Oh, yes, how could I forget. It
is your favorite. A lovely dish for such a lovely lady. How have you been?"
She looked him straight in the eye, but it was hard to hide the smile that
flickered just behind her lips. "I really have never been here before. You
don't know me."
"Oh, yes, I do. A real man always knows a real woman when he sees
one."
She laughed. "I'm too old to play these games."
He grinned. "Too old? No, not too old. You are in the prime of life. A
real woman just begins to ripen, like a melon, when she becomes mature. And
yes, I am having a little fun. But even for a beautiful woman, life is
difficult when we are so serious. Life should be fun, sprinkled with a little
laughter, some virgin olive oil, a little pesto, a pinch of adventure."
Mario kept returning to her table, making small jokes, and by the time the
delicious lunch was over, Meg had laughed more than she had in a month. It was
harmless fun, but Meg thrived on the attention. Her cheeks warmed, and her eyes
sparkled. As she headed out the door, Mario called out, "You must come
back, my little chickadee, come back soon."
She waved and smiled, "I will."
When she went into the bank, her husband came out of his office immediately.
"What have you done to yourself?" he said. "You look
beautiful."
"I came to rob the bank," she said, but her laughter belied her words.
Josh laughed as he took her hand. "Meg, you have the most delightful sense
of humor."
When they went back to his office, she dropped the toy gun in the tall
gold-plated wastebasket by the front door. It was a foolish idea anyhow, she
thought.
When she left fifteen minutes later, after she'd finished a delightful
conversation with her husband, she walked out the front door.
The security guard said, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Larimer."
"Good afternoon, Russell," she said.
She was carrying the gold-plated wastebasket under her arm.
No one noticed.
Other People's Lives
by Betty Kreier Lubinski
