His heart was racing and his face was flushed. He couldn’t remember everything he had said, just how close he had been to hitting her. She had walked away so awkwardly, an unnecessary stiffness in her posture that he didn’t understand. He hadn’t even touched her.
She stood under the deluge of hot water shedding silent ugly tears. Stupid cunt bitch. His words stuck to her in ways the soap couldn’t help. She squeezed her eyes shut remembering the moment his eyes had gone wide and his hand hovered an inch away. He hadn’t touched her though.
They pick up their conversation as if the last 30 minutes hasn’t happened. She asks if he needs anything and he mostly ignores her. Her voice is empty when she speaks, no emotion or opinion. His voice is steady, no guilty lit or sheepish remorse. No one apologizes or forgives. The I love yous before bed will not be punctuated with gentle kisses.
Peggie hit the carriage return bar and cranked the paper up a double space.
I…
“Peggie!” The bellow was followed by a quick succession of taps which noticeably increased in speed.
Walking swiftly to the door on her right Peggie smoothed her skirt and cleared her throat as she entered the office “Yes Mr. Goint!”
The tapping stopped, stuttered, and then redoubled its pace. “I have very nearly forgotten you took so long.”
“It’s my lunch Sir, I…”
“That, is neither here nor there. Peggie I need the document. The one we discussed last night. Where have you hidden it?”
“I sent it out this morning Mr. Goint.”
“You what?!?” It was in this moment that Peggie knew she had his attention. His honest-to-God full attention.
“Sir, Mr. Qumonn had said it was of utmost importance that it go out today…”
“Oh is that what’s happened? Tell me would 4 o’clock have been today as well?”
Peggie’s color rose and paled so fast that if you’d have blinked you’d have missed it. “Of course Sir. I will contact the courier and see if it can be diverted back for a later pick up.”
His attention faded as the phone rang leaving Peggie with no more guidance than a dismissive wave.
Back at her desk, and on hold with the currier service Peggie looked over her shoulder at the typewriter. The apple and cola she had packed for lunch sat to the side untouched while her ham sandwich slowly went stale. She looked longingly at the meal before turning her back to it.
I find myself feeling…
“Hey Peg?”
“Yes, Mr. Qumonn.” She swiveled in her seat, arriving face forward hands folded demurely in her lap. “How can I help?”
“I’m looking over Bob’s numbers, and there is no way I’ll be able to send them to the client like that. Can you work your magic for me?”
A bright smile snapped into place. “Anything in particular, Sir?”
He was already taking the five steps necessary to reach his office door, “No Peg, they just need a little hel…” The p was lost to the closing door as Peggie was almost certain Mr. Qumonn hadn’t suggested the numbers needed a little hell.
She scanned the tables in her hand momentarily forgetting the typewriter. The sharp beep in her ear brought everything back.
Yes, the currier was back.
Yes, document could be returned.
Yes, that would cost extra.
Yes, a scheduled picked up could occur at 4pm.
Physically Peggie shrugged as she hung up the phone, mentally she scratched off two items on her to do list. While she waited on the document return Peggie reordered the columns, so that Gross came before Cost with Net rounding off the final page, and highlighted the total values.
Just then the very disgruntled overheated currier appeared and nearly threw the Manila envelope at Peggie before trotting back down the stairs. With little in the way of words both men had their pages in hand and their doors shut. Peggie exhaled deeply chewed off the corner of her sandwich and set her focus to the typewriter.
feeling in…
Buzzing from the left suggested that Mr. Qumonn had finished reviewing the tables. Instead he requested coffee service for an unscheduled meeting in the Boardroom. Peggie set each seat with a brief, a small plate of raspberry linzer cookies, a coffee cup, and a glass of water. When the door burst open filling the room cigarette smoke and baritones, she headed for the exit.
“Fellas, you can thank Peg for the special touch.” Ralph Qumonn had sounded sincere enough to make her stop backing out of the room, but no one so much as glanced in her direction as they shared his laugh. Peggie closed the door with exaggerated care.
Back at her desk, or rather on her chair, was a document so red it could have been bleeding. Peggie counted the pages and did a time check, 30 pages in 95 minutes. It would be close.
The currier came and went for the third time only promising an end of day delivery after pocketing her half dollar. Famished Peggie put the apple in her mouth as she reset her original page.
“Gone.” The statement was followed by a perfunctory cane tap.
Peggie quickly bit the apple letting it drop into her hand. The delay in her response only elicited more taps. “Yes Sir. It cost me 50 cents, but it’ll be there before end of day Mr. Goint.”
“Done at last then.” David Goint’s words echoed slightly as he made his way down the stairs flattening them out till no trace of tone could be discerned.
She shook her head.
inte…
“We’re through Peg.”
No response necessary. Peggie cleared the table straightened the chairs and called for housekeeping. Finally settled back at her desk in the now empty office.
She typed for only an instant before popping open the cola and taking a long pull. Peggie read and reread what she had typed while she finished the soda. Page in hand she stretched luxuriously, and cleared away the rest of her uneaten lunch. She set the loose leaf on her desk, and weighted it down with her cola can.
Dear Sirs,
I find myself feeling interrupted.
She hit the lights, walked to the stairs, and never looked back.
He tossed and turned lost to the images only his mind’s eye could see. Soft sounds escaped his lips, whimpers which suggested pain or at the very least distress. She reached out to lay a comforting hand upon him, but stopped transfixed.
What was he thinking of? Was it a memory or a Freudian sequence that would lose its meaning with the flutter of his lashes?
Her hand retracted of its own accord, and instead she leaned forward as if to whisper in his ear. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” The breathy words sounded so harsh in the quiet pre-dawn hour, he stirs, as if the question has made him uncomfortable even in sleep. Till she is sure he is still asleep she waits, finally allowing herself the deep exhalation she did not even realize she was holding. Emboldened by her success she continues her one sided conversation.
“You don’t see me anymore, worse you won’t even look.”
She rests her head back upon her palm and studies him, the perused lips and knit brow suggest he’s listening but to her or his own internal dialogue she cannot be sure. “I am strong enough you know.” Without meaning to she has raised her voice.
He mumbles his response as he turns to his other side, leaving her with only his back for further consultation.
“Don’t you worry because it’s fine, I’m fine, I don’t even…”
Her garbled attempt to actually say the words startles her awake blinking she finds herself tangled in the sheets. A bullet train has nothing on the furious pounding of her heart as she swallows a sob forcing herself to take deep ragged breaths. Finally in control of herself she looks wildly side to side but only the imprint of David’s head in his feather pillow remains.
She ventures down the hallway on silent feet stopping at the doorway to the galley kitchen where David stands with his back to her intent on some private conversation with someone who wasn’t her. He ends the call and reaches for his coffee catching a glimpse of her leaning against the door jam.
“Must have been some dream you were having,” he offers to the air near where she is standing, “you almost punched me in the face at one point,” their eyes never meet.
“Want me to tell you about it?”
“I’m never any good with that kind of stuff Lucy, besides you’ve probably forgotten it by now.”
“For a minute I almost did…” she trailed off as he took a text, “do you think I’m strong” Lucy asked.
David turned and for a second he did really look at her, “didn’t I opened that jar for you last week,” his smile never made it to his eyes.
The sound of a gong announced another text. Without deciding what would happen next she took the three steps to stand at his side and place her hand on his phone.
“Luce, what the hell?”
“You have to go, now.”
Her statement was mater of fact her face deadpan, David’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Lucy stepped back giving him room to turn and face her. The calm she had felt at the end of her dream washed over her; “It’s fine David, you don’t love me, but I’m alright…and I don’t even need you to pretend anymore.”
As his car drove out of sight her eyes began to burn and a hollow spot was carved below her navel “goddamn honest dreams,” she sighed as she closed the door, but maybe they were right about more than just David being a dick, and that made her smile.
b00kreader 