Authors: Sarah Ann Walker
Sh
aking suddenly, I can’t breathe. Gasping for breath, I lean over the sink and try hard to breathe. Gagging, my stomach coils itself into a solid knot, but I've eaten nothing today to throw up. My legs start to buckle, so I gracefully drop to my knees, cover my face, shake violently, and try desperately to breathe.
"Breathe. I can hear you panicking. Breathe slowly. Come on, just breathe
slowly for
me..."
Eventually, my breathing slows and my chest starts loosening. My hands are totally numb, but no longer shaking. Looking up, I see tears in Kayla's eyes. OH! Please don't cry.
Please,
Kayla. If you cry, I know I'm done.
Please...
Trying to stand, Kayla gently takes my hands and helps. Suddenly, I want my shoes off. Bending again, I slip off my heels and just kind of melt into the cool tiles of the bathroom floor.
I love this feeling. I love being in sexy heels all day with aching feet, then finally dropping my heels at my front door, to bathe my aching feet into the cool marble tiles of my home.
Looking back up, I'm almost shocked at how tall Kayla is suddenly. Stepping back a foot, I breathe, "I'm okay, but I need to go home. Honestly, nothing happened, Kayla. I really was just asleep in my car. I don't know why I look like this, but I swear I was asleep in my car. That’s all.
Honestly.
"
I can tell she doesn't believe me at all. She thinks I'm a liar, and today I actually
am
a liar. I've lied twice in one day.
Wouldn't my family be so proud?
Turning away from her face of pity, or maybe even shock, I don’t really know which, I open the washroom door and walk smack into Mr. Shields. When he grabs my arms to steady me, I just can't stand it suddenly!
Jerking out of his grip, I scream, "Let me go!"
Mr. Shields is shocked into silence.
Looking at me, he stammers, "I, I wasn't going to hurt you, Sugar. I was just trying to help." I think I’m going to die of embarrassment, any second now.
"Sorry, Sir. I'm just not feeling well. I'm leaving now, but I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you. Sorry..." and racing to my office, I snatch my purse and run for the exit with my heels still in my shaking hands.
In my car again, my whole body begins shaking once more. Starting the car, I close my eyes and count to ten. Turning to pull on my seatbelt, I see Kayla standing beside my car window as I jump with a little scream.
Lowering the window a little, "Kayla. I'm fine. I'm going straight home. It's been a weird week, that's all... Okay?"
"Can I drive you home? I'd like to. You aren't fine, and if something happens to you, I'll feel really guilty for letting you drive. Okay, Sweetie?"
As Kayla tries to open my door, I suddenly yell at her. "No. It’s not okay. I'm fine.
Fuck!
I'm fine! Just leave me alone!" And wrenching the gear shift, I start to drive off with her frightened, totally horror-struck face burned into my memory.
Driving a little erratically, I wonder what I just did. Kayla will hate me now. She'll be so mad at me. She'll ignore me every day at work. She'll talk about me behind my back. She'll tell everyone what a bitch I am. She'll hate me.
When I finally return home, I grab my purse and head up the few stairs to the foyer. I can't even remember driving home. I did drive, I’m pretty sure, but I just can't remember the drive at all. That's bad, I think.
Once inside, my feet are greeted by the cold marble tile. I love this. I look forward to these tiles. If I could lie down on them, I would. Huh.
Why can’t I?
It's my house. So dropping my heels, purse and keys, I slink down to the cold marble and finally exhale.
==========
Marcus wakes me when he enters. The house is all dark because I didn't remember to put any lights on, so he narrowly avoids stepping on me.
"What the hell? Did you fall, or something?" He looks confused.
"Um, no. The floor just felt nice and cold, that's all." Ooops, I sound kind of deranged. And suddenly, I’m engulfed in light while my eyes burn and I turn my face into the tile.
"What the hell happened to you? You look awful." Marcus demands.
"Nothing. Stressful day. I'm just going to go to bed."
And lifting myself from the floor, I notice Marcus doesn't help me. Of course not, he's still mad at me. He's still going to ignore me for a while, I have to remember that.
Upstairs, I change into my pajamas and head for the bathroom. Gross. I have to once again
scrub
off my nasty make-up before I go to bed, which kills my eyes, cheeks and lips, but what can I do? Dirty a pillow case? Heaven forbid.
E
ntering my bedroom, I wish I had my purse and cell phone with me in case Kayla calls. God, I don't want her telling Marcus I flipped out again today. He would be so ashamed of my behavior.
Curling into bed, I see the time is 8:02pm Wow. I guess I lied on the marble floor for a few hours. Strange, it didn't feel that long.
On my side, I can't help but think of today. What
was
that? If I wasn't me, I would think I was some girl craving attention; A drama-queen, a
loser
. Maybe like someone who needs to act out in order to get attention. Why did I act like that today? My lies were disgusting. My behavior was disgusting. My freak-out was disgusting.
I'm disgusting.
==========
Waking to Marcus lurching over me, I look at the clock and see its 9:49. That's it? It feels much later.
"Were you raped today?" He asks me point-blank.
Flinch.
"No." God, I
HATE
that word.
"I didn't think so. I told Kayla she was wrong, but she was so adamant about you getting to the hospital. As
if..."
and as Marcus shakes his head, he leaves my bedroom without a backwards glance
, again.
As if?
What the hell does
that
mean? As if someone would rape me? As if I'm
un-rapeable
?
I'm not ugly. I'm not fat. I have gorgeous lips and
alluring
eyes... As
if.
God, I am
so
tired.
C
HAPTER 4
In the morning, Marcus enters my bedroom to get dressed. He’s just glaring at me for a minute before entering his closet.
"You didn't make dinner again last night. Should I start eating out every night after work?" He asks blandly.
"No. I'll cook tonight. I was just not well last night, if you remember.”
Shaking his head, he enters his walk-in closet and huffs. "Did you pick up my dry-cleaning yesterday?"
Is he for real?
Seriously?
I was sick. Did he forget he almost walked into me on the floor?
"No, Marcus. As you may remember, I was unwell yesterday... you know, when you found me on the floor. So, no, I didn't pick up your dry-cleaning. I forgot. I'll try to get it after work tonight."
Ignoring me completely he continues, "Oh, Kayla called. You don't have to go into work today or tomorrow. A nice little vacation, huh? Anyway, your boss has worked it out so your emails are forwarded to your iPhone. He says 'rest up'. What does
that
mean? All you've
been
doing is sleeping and resting," he scoffs at me.
I'm supposed to stay home? Who will do my work? Who will prepare the expense reports? Who will organize the check run for Monday? WHO?! I'm going to throw-up, I think.
"Sorry Marcus. I'll be fine today, and I'll cook you a nice meal. What time will you be home?" I ask gently, fighting the nausea. Maybe he's not mad at me anymore?
"I don't know. Don't wait up though. If you don't want to cook dinner, don't worry about it. I'll just grab something later." He huffs again.
Okay, so he's still mad at me,
AND
he’s passive-aggressive...
Awesome!
"It's fine Marcus. I want to cook. I’ll see you later." Rising to give him his kiss on the cheek which he likes, Marcus turns to me, shakes his head, and scowls like I'm hideous.
Wow.
I'm stopped cold. His look is so, like, mean or something. Where is nice Marcus? What have I done?
Shit.
After checking over my face in the bathroom, I'm relieved that my eyes are less swollen, but my lips are still cracked, bleeding and sore. What the hell
happened
yesterday?
==========
Downstairs, I grab some coffee and my purse and head to my sunroom. Dumping my purse, I grab my iPhone and count 19 emails. 4 texts. 8 missed calls.
Scrolling through the missed calls, I see 5 from Kayla, 1 from my mother, and 2 are from the 212 area code...
New York?
Really?
He wouldn't call,
would he?
I'll get back to those...
All 4 texts are from Kayla.
Jeez...
She tenacious, isn't she?
Over to email:
- An amendment from Mr. Close on his expense report.
Of course.
- Another attachment from Heinrick.
It Figures.
- Mr. Berber finally submitted his... Yes! Now I have everyone's, but Mr. Craig/Mr. Zinfandel's. I can start calculating probable’s.
- 6 emails from Kayla. Jeez, is she tenacious, or
psychotic?
- 2 from Mr. Shields.
Shit.
- 1 from the Marriot.
Good.
- 1 from the Detroit office.
What now?
- And 6 from Mr. Zinfandel.
6? Holy shit!
Okay, onto Mr. Zinfandel. I feel a nervous knot in my stomach, but I’m a little excited too. I wonder if he's going to bully me like he did earlier yesterday.
_____________________
__________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Expense Report
Wednesday, May, 25
2:12pm
Hello S
weetheart,
I still haven't heard from you regarding Mr. Craig's expenses.
Are you ignoring me?
Z
________________________________
______________________
__________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Expense Report… AGAIN
Wednesday, May, 25
2:49pm
Sweetheart,
You really need to reply to me. I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning. If I contact you, you are to respond in a timely manner.
Z
P.S. I cannot stop looking at your company profile pictures. You really are quite beautiful. Do you ever wear your hair down?
_______________________________
_______________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Where are you?
Wednesday, May, 25
4:03pm
Sweetheart,
I finally had no option but to call your Receptionist, and she kindly informed me that no one seems to know where you are.
Though I do not approve of her lack of discretion, I’m glad she told me. Are you alright?
Please contact me soon so I no longer worry.
Here’s my private number 212) 521-7511
Z
_______________________________
_______________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: ARE YOU OKAY?!
Wednesday, May, 25
6:09pm
Dammit! Are you okay?!
Sweetheart, please call me soon.
Again, though I am not impressed with the lack of discretion in your office, Sam Shields has informed me that there was some kind of incident with you this afternoon.
What happened? Sam said you looked much abused, but wouldn't elaborate.
Shall I fly to Chicago to check on you myself?
Call or email me soon.
212) 521-7511
Z
________________________________