Authors: Julie Frayn
Mazie turned back to the screen.
The cursor blinked at her.
Battered woman syndrome.
“This client never speaks to me,
but she does write. That’s why I’m going to send the questions. I’m hoping this
gets some answers so I can defend her properly.” He stepped behind Mazie’s
chair. “I don’t think she trusts men at all. Even if they are on her side.”
He touched her hair, an almost
imperceptible brush of his fingertips. The nape of her neck broke out in
gooseflesh and a shiver ran up into her scalp.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I shouldn’t
have told you all that. Dory just ignores the words and what they mean. Just
types and files and answers the phone. Maybe she’s bored. Or jaded. Or she just
doesn’t give a shit anymore.” He kneeled down beside the chair and rested his
forearms on the armrest. “You give a shit, don’t you, Charlie?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the monitor,
his gentle grey eyes tugging at her peripheral vision. She resumed typing.
He butted the cigarette on the
bottom of his shoe and returned to his desk.
An hour later she came to the end
of the document. Fifteen years ago she would have had it typed, proofread,
printed in triplicate, filed, and been out the door in half that time. She
glanced over her shoulder. “I’m done,” she called out.
The castors on his oversized
leather chair squeaked. He leaned over her shoulder. “Great. I’ll get Dory to send
it to the hospital administrator on Monday. They’ll try to get her to answer
the questions.” He grabbed the armrest and spun the chair around. “Can I buy
you dinner in return?”
“No need. I’m getting paid to clean
your office, remember?” She grinned. “And I have to get home.”
“Of course. I’m sure Clementine is
much better company anyway.” He smiled. “Look, if you’d rather have a day job,
there might be an opening here. I need an assistant.”
“What about Dory?”
“Yeah, Dory. She’s fine as a
secretary, but she’s got one toe dipped in the retirement pool. She won’t do
anything if she doesn’t like it and never works a minute past office hours. I
need someone with a bit more energy.”
“I’m not really qualified. I have
no legal training.”
“I can teach you the legal stuff.
Dory can give you some word processing training. For now it’d be filing briefs,
doing research, typing, and maybe making some phone calls.”
No more toilets to scrub or carpets
to vacuum. That sounded good. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Great!” His eyes twinkled. “Why
don’t you quit the cleaning firm tomorrow and take the weekend off. I’ll see
you Monday morning.” He closed his laptop and pointed a finger at her. “After
you get Clementine all signed up for school.”
~~~~~~~~
“How about this one?” Ariel held up
an eggplant blouse with too much frill in the boob region.
“Love the colour, but too much
going on.” Mazie gestured at her chest. “I need something plain”
“I like the frills.”
“Yeah, wait until you’re in a D-cup
and see if you change your mind. Just makes everything look even bigger.”
Ariel looked down at her chest. “I
doubt I’ll ever have to worry about it.”
“You’re only twelve!”
“Thirteen.”
“Sorry. I’ll get used to having a
teenager soon.” Or never. “Besides, you need a bra. You may not think so, but
you’re looking just like me at that age.”
“Should we go look for one?”
Mazie wrinkled her nose. “Not here.
I can live with used tops and skirts. Can even get my mind around wearing
someone else’s shoes. But I draw the line at underwear.” She leaned into Ariel.
“Besides, this place smells like pee and dirty feet,” she whispered. She took the
blouse from Ariel and put it back in the rack. “We’ll go to Wal-Mart.” Hanger
after hanger of used skirts got pushed aside. Too outdated. Too pink. Tear in
the seam. She pulled a black one from the rack and held it out, scratched at a
stain on the front. It flaked off in white dust. “Gross. Maybe next year we can
afford to shop for something new.”
“Can I get some jeans for school?”
“Sure. You’ve grown at least two
inches this summer. Get some tops too.” At two bucks a pop, they could almost
go on a shopping spree.
Mazie wriggled into her choices in
the confined change room. “Can you give me your opinion?” she called to Ariel
in the next cubicle.
She stepped out and examined
herself in the full-length mirror. Hands on her hips, she turned and craned her
neck to check out her backside. If only she wasn’t so fat. She shouldn’t have
eaten all those burgers and pancakes on their road trip.
Ariel whistled. “Wow, I’ve never
seen you dress like that. You look beautiful.”
“Really?” Mazie turned back to the
mirror. “It doesn’t make my gut look huge?”
“Mother, you’re a stick.”
She raised an eyebrow at her
daughter. “That’s sweet. But it’s crap.”
Ariel stood beside her in tight
skinny jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt emblazoned with a glittery skull, her
own curvy body screaming to be looked at. She took her mother by the waist and
turned her sideways. “See? Thin. No gut. Big boobs, but you can’t help that. It
doesn’t make you fat.”
Mazie scrutinized her reflection. How
many times had she been told how fat she was? Gross, disgusting, piggish. No
amount of dieting or exercise made the insults stop. She turned side to side,
closed her eyes and opened them again.
Not fat. Not fat. Not fat.
Under the green glow of the fluorescent
lights, a thin line of black jumped from the part in her hair. “Damn.”
“What?”
“I have to stop for hair dye again.”
Mazie neared the mirror and inspected her roots. Flecks of grey salted her natural
black. That was new.
“I’m going to grow mine out.”
Mazie eyed her daughter in the
mirror. Her hair would be black again. Just the colour the cops were looking
for. “Will you keep it short?”
“Yeah, I love it like this. Can I
frost the tips?”
Mazie smiled. “Of course.”
~~~~~~~~
Mazie tugged her skirt down and
shifted her feet. When the line moved, she shuffled forward. The sound of her heels
on the waxed gym floor ricocheted off the walls like gunfire. Very slow
gunfire.
Three women sat at a row of portable
tables. The one on the right motioned for them to come forward. Mazie took
Ariel’s hand and tugged on it.
Ariel pulled her hand away.
“Don’t.”
“Sorry for being your mother.”
Ariel was focused on something
across the gym. Mazie followed her gaze and landed on a tall young man,
football in hand. He stood at the edge of the room by the folded bleachers, his
broad smile aimed directly at her daughter. Ariel smiled right back at him.
The woman at the table had to be
ninety — tight grey bun sitting on the collar of an ivory cardigan, cat’s eye
half-glasses on the tip of her nose. She peered over the top of them.
“Name?”
Ariel ignored her.
Mazie sighed. “Clementine Smyth,
with a Y.”
“New this year?”
“Yes.”
“Grade?”
“Eight.”
“Fill this out.” She slid a piece of
paper toward Mazie and put a pencil on top. “We’ll need a copy of her birth
certificate. And immunization records.”
Mazie filled in the form, glanced
between the page, her daughter, and the too-old-for-her boy who seemed smitten
with her thirteen year-old child. “We lost those in the move.”
“Her ID?”
“Among a whole bunch of other
stuff, yes.”
The woman gave her a scathing look
and flipped through a file at her elbow. “Okay then, Mrs. Smyth.”
“It’s Ms.”
The woman shot her a look. “
Mizz
Smyth.” She rolled her eyes. “Here’s where you can get a new certificate.”
“I have the website address already,
thanks. They said it would take a few weeks.”
“Yes. Well as soon as you have it,
we need a copy.”
Mazie nodded. “So you said.”
“Now, about the immunization
records.”
“She’s had all her shots.”
“I need something on file.”
Of course she did. “I work for a
lawyer. How about a sworn affidavit?”
“Oh. Well yes, that would be fine. Clementine?”
Mazie poked her daughter in the
ribs. “Clem, pay attention.”
Ariel turned. “What?”
“Take this over there,” the woman
pointed to a line of kids, “and get your photo taken. They’ll give you a school
identification card. Then we’ll see you on Thursday.”
Mazie took Ariel by the elbow.
“That boy is too old for you.”
“He’s cute. And he was smiling at
me.”
“No dating.”
“Charlie, come on! I’m thirteen.”
“So you keep reminding me. And don’t
call me Charlie.”
With Ariel’s new school ID in hand,
they walked to the nearest bus stop two blocks away. “Can you walk home on your
own? I’m going to grab the bus here and try to be at the office before ten.”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“See you later. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
“Can I have a hug?”
Ariel looked in all directions then
gave her a quick hug.
Mazie watched Ariel walk away. Was
that swing of the hips new?
Enrolled her daughter in a new
school. Without official paperwork. Maybe she should become a spy.
~~~~~~~~
Mazie stood at the threshold to the
office, her hand on the brass knob.
Just turn the damn thing and
walk through, already. Dive into the deep end of a whole new life.
She let go of the knob. She was
letting too much ride on this. It was just a job, that’s all. Just another job.
She buttoned the top two buttons of
her blouse, ran one finger between the collar and her scarf, undid one button,
took a deep breath, and turned the knob.
A greying woman of ample
proportions sat at the reception desk.
Mazie smiled and approached her.
“Hi. You must be Dory. I’m Charlotte Smyth.” She held out her hand.
“Right. Mr. Day told me he’d hired
a paralegal.” Dory crossed her arms over her massive bosom and eyed Mazie up
and down. “What’s your background? Where you work before?”
Mazie drew her hand away and
smoothed her skirt with it. Beyond the fortress of Dory, Norman sat at his
desk, the phone to his ear. He glanced up, did a double take and smiled broadly.
He waved her in.
She smiled, looked down at Dory, and
tilted her head to one side. “Maybe we can talk later.” She refrained from
adding “bitch” under her breath and instead stuck her chin in the air and
glided past. She hovered just inside his door, straightened a stack of files
sitting askew on the filing cabinet next to her.
Norman hung up the phone, pushed
his chair away from the desk and swivelled toward her. “Well, look at you.”
Her gaze shifted to her feet, her
cheeks hot. She straightened her skirt. “Is it all right?”
“All right? You’re the loveliest
thing to ever walk in this office.”
Dory let out a snort.
“Come on in. Close the door and
have a seat so we can chat.”
Mazie did as she was told. She
pulled her skirt down as far over her knees as it would go. Why hadn’t she
bought a longer one?
He flipped through a file on his
desk and pulled out two pieces of paper. “You’ll have to fill these out, so we
can be sure to pay you on time.”
She took the forms and swallowed.
Social insurance number. Damn, why hadn’t she thought of that? She handed the
pages back. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” She went to stand but he held up one
hand.
“Have a seat for a second.” He
leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his head tilted. His eyebrows were
furrowed, but not in anger. Concern perhaps. Affection even. He’d never shown
her any hint of aggression. “What spooked you?”
She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s
complicated. The cleaning company, they just pay me cash.”
He sat back, his eyes never leaving
her face. “I see. Under the table. No tax. No questions.”
She turned away, her eyes burned
with the threat of tears. “I’m going to go.” She stood and put her hand on the
door handle. “I’m sorry to waste your time.”
“Charlie, wait.”
She shot him a quick look over her
shoulder.
“I can pay you cash. No questions
asked.”
“Isn’t that illegal? Some kind of
ethical conflict?”
“You let me worry about that.”
“I don’t want to cause you any
trouble.”
He stood and joined her next to the
cabinet and took one of her hands. “Charlie, the last thing you are, is
trouble.”