TAKE ME as I am

by C Osborne, Laurina

  “Shut the hell up, shit face! Nobody was talking to you,” I say, with my hand over my eyes.

  “I thought you hated white guys.”

  “I don’t hate white guys, I just can’t bring myself to date one,” I say sitting up.

  He glares at me.

  “What?”

  “Did you use protection?”

  I nod.

  He looks at his wife and then back at me and walks away.

  I well up.

  “Nella, don’t cry,” Zoi says, scrambling off the sofa as best she can in her pregnant condition.

  She hugs me tightly and I cry hard clinging to her. The idea that the best time I’ve ever had was from a stranger made the rest of my life where sex is concerned pathetic. I feel like Eunella again and the good time I had is beginning to seem cheap.

  “Zo, remember what I told you about Daddy? I only did it because I was feeling that way. What if I’m really going crazy?”

  She sits back against the sofa away from me with her legs folded under her.

  “People, good people do this all the time, and frankly I think you should remember the moment with joy. It was your first time and he made love to you,” she affirms, smiling at me. “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know.”

  “Did he ask you yours?”Darnell asks. I look up and he’s still pretending to read the paper.

  “Yes, I told him my name was Ella.”

  “He really liked you. I bet anything he saw your ass from across the room.”

  I would have to agree.

  Three weeks after the presentation, Mr. McCarthy calls me in to say he will not be the president of the New York office and in a week he’ll be leaving. He explains that they asked him to stay for the transition, but the package to leave is a lot more attractive than what they offered him to stay. He asks me what I want and I request a day to think about it. He also reveals that someone will be calling me to talk about the transition.

  That night, I receive the call at home. Usually, I ignore the house phone because anyone who I want to talk to knows to call my cell. The phone rings three times in succession and to shut it up I answer it.

  It seems the company values me and would be delighted if I stayed on; however, if I chose to leave they would like to offer me a retention bonus, which is more than a year’s salary, to stay for ninety days to help with the transition, and I would be eligible for severance as well as any vacation time I may still have and unemployment. I accept the package and of course I cannot discuss it or Mr. McCarthy’s departure with anyone. My new boss, Mark Gagnon will be here in a week.

  During Mr. McCarty’s last week, I plan a goodbye party for him. He managed the company well and I cannot let his departure go unnoticed or without recognition. I call a meeting of department heads to tell them the truth about Mr. McCarty and ask them to make a collection from employees to buy him a gift. Together we plan a surprise party for him. The company has three hundred and sixty employees in the New York office, and within two days we collect almost fifteen thousand dollars for him.

  It sobers me. I know they love him but … I call his wife and inform her about the money and she cries. I ask for suggestions on what to get him. They’re planning a trip to South America and between the two of us we make it happen in about two hours on the phone with a travel agent. I invite her to the party, which I pay for with company funds.

  On the day of the party, I ask Mr. McCarty out for a drink at a local restaurant and bar in downtown Brooklyn, three blocks from the office. We walk in and I suggest dinner if he has the time. He says he would be happy to eat a last meal with me and we head to the dining room from the bar. The look on his face when they all yell surprise brings tears to my eyes. Having his wife present to witness the love from the people who worked for him left me buoyant and contented. The party is a great success and lasts until ten o’clock.

  After the party, I’m wound up, so I stop by the studio instead of going directly home. I teach pole dancing one night a week to women between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. When I’m here, I’m different. I am strong and versatile and no man has power over me. I have no children or family and Daddy never happened. My body is lithe and sensual and strong. It does what I ask it to do without resistance or complaint. I’m in love with the pole and my body, and thus I’m completely at peace.

  After about thirty minutes, Darnell knocks on the door. I let him in then pull on my pants while he waits. I put on a T-shirt too, grab my bags, turn off the light and lock the door. We walk out of the building without speaking. At the first corner, he turns to me.

  “Why do you have ghosts and Zoi doesn’t?”

  “I hold things in. Zoi is my sister but my daughter as well. I protect her from the dark side of me, from the really bad things that has happened in my life.”

  “She is stronger than she looks.”

  “Because she doesn’t know, it keeps her strong.”

  “Nella, as an attorney and a person with some life experience, I’m going to tell you something I learned a long time ago. Don’t suffer in silence. The chances are pretty high that what you’ve experienced someone else has too and the answer is a conversation away.”

  “So you’re saying I should go see a shrink?”

  “I’m saying that you don’t hate me and you can’t keep pretending to. Your sister loves me and you love your sister. If you tell her we will all get through this.”

  “I can’t just tell her. I prefer to talk to a shrink or someone who loves and cares for me other than Zo.”

  “Maybe we should find that guy who … made you talk in tongues,” Darnell says laughing.

  “I can’t be comfortable going out with him; my soul needs a dark-skinned, black, West Indian man.”

  “Your soul needs a man who loves you, period.”

  “Thanks for walking me home.”

  “Why don’t you come and sleep upstairs? Since Zo’s pregnant the sex sucks.”

  “You mean that it doesn’t exist, right?” I ask with a big grin.

  He nods, looking away.

  “Rub her feet then kiss them. It’ll turn her on. And do it doggie style.”

  He glares at me. “Are you sure?”

  “What have you got to lose? Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  The next morning I let myself into their apartment and start breakfast. I’ve already done three miles in the park and beyond, showered and decided to maybe have a big party to celebrate my achievement and the new life I will soon embark upon. I also texted Etienne, Roland and Zander to tell them about the possibility of a party, but I change my mind and just told them I love them.

  It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday morning and they like to sleep late, but if the idiot got it right he won’t mind some breakfast he doesn’t have to make himself. I start on the potatoes for corn beef hash, Zoi’s favorite, with hard boiled eggs. Darnell likes sausages, but I like bacon, so I take out both. I also feel like an omelet with mushrooms. I chop the onions and peppers for that. I wait as long as I can to put the bacon and sausage on the griddle, so when they smell it everything will be ready.

  I hear Darnell’s feet dragging across the hardwood floor, so I put a glass of orange juice on the island that is bar-height above the back of the sink.

  “Thank you. How did you know that … about Zo?” he asks.

  “Did it work?”

  “Look at my face,” he says beaming.

  “She was pregnant once before, remember?”

  “But …”

  “Let it go. Where is she?” I ask, and before he could answer Zoi emerges looking like a fat, happy cat.

  She hugs me and I squeeze her back and kiss her cheek. She kisses Darnell as she passes him and without a word we both watch her devour breakfast. Afterward, she leaves the plate, walks to the sofa and turns on the TV. I sit beside her and feed her some of my omelet as I tell her about the latest happenings at the company.


  “Zoi, I’m going home to get the decree absolute.”

  “Why?” she asks, staring at my face.

  “It’s time I face him and put my past behind me.”

  “What’s a decree absolute?” Darnell asks.

  “If you were West Indian you would know that,” I say, just to point out yet another reason why I can’t be with a man of a different culture.

  “Zoi?” he asks, ignoring me.

  “When Nella filed for a divorce from Keith, through an attorney, he refused to agree and therefore to sign. She had to wait for five years of separation, so his consent would not be necessary. After that and some other legal maneuvers and back and forth about the kids, the court finally issued a decree nisi, which means that the court is satisfied with all the paperwork submitted and they are divorced, but they are not free to remarry.”

  “Are you serious?” Darnell asks.

  “Very. But then, the judge, who is a friend of Keith’s, puts another ringer in the process. He will not issue the decree absolute, which is the document that says they are free to remarry, unless Nella shows up for it in person.”

  “Why?” Darnell asks again.

  “Keith wants his wife back.”

  “Are you afraid of him?” Darnell asks me this time.

  I glare at him and then look away. I stand and begin to pace biting my cuticle. Darnell stands too and follows me with his eyes. I look at Zoi.

  “Tell me,” she says all innocent and bright.

  “On the day I received the immigration papers from Barbados, I was so excited I left work in the middle of the day and drove to Keith’s office. His secretary said he was in the field with his assistant. The way her eyes held mine told me to go home. I parked down the road and walked to the house looking through all the windows. His truck was parked at the back. I went in using the kitchen door.” I stop and sit next to Zoi.

  She holds my hand.

  “Another woman?” she asks.

  I stand and pace some more. I have only told two people what I saw. I look at Darnell and he nods.

  “I tip toed to our bedroom and found him in bed with his assistant.”

  “Oh my God!” Zoi exclaims, covering her mouth. “Did he see you?”

  I nod.

  “You can’t go back.”

  “Who was his assistant?” Darnell asks.

  I glare at him.

  “For God sake, you can’t tell me that if I was West Indian I would know. Come on Nella, tell me,” he begs.

  “His assistant is a man.”

  “Oh shit! So he’s gay. What’s the danger?”

  “First of all, West Indian people are notoriously phobic about the whole gay thing and secondly, he’s the son of the two time chief minister and as far as I hear, he’s getting ready to run for office himself,” Zoi states.

  “So why would he want Nella back?”

  “All these years he has been using her name as his wife. She is here specifically so his sons could get an American education. This allows him to sleep with as many women as he chooses without fear of commitment.” She turns and looks at me. “Maybe he’s moved on by now. It’s been fifteen years.”

  I swallow hard. I wipe my eyes.

  “The next day … I went … to work as usual. I left early, went to the bank and took every penny we had, returned home quickly to get some clothes, took the boys out of school and then headed for the airport. I caught the five o’clock plane to Antigua. In the hotel I read and reread the papers and then called Barbados. They told me if he changed his mind about emigrating I needed his signature on the documents of the minor children.” I look at Zoi again.

  “You forged them?” she asks in horror.

  “I called Matt and asked him to meet me in Antigua and he did. He knew what Keith was and he sympathized and signed the papers for me. After I got through in Barbados, I called Keith and told him I was on my way to New York and he threatened to kill me if I told anyone or didn’t send his children back. I told him about the money and that really set him off. I tried to make a deal, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “He hasn’t seen his children in fifteen years?” Darnell asks almost in outrage.

  “Of course! At first I didn’t know if I could trust him to be around my sons, but once I got past my ignorance and was satisfied they could fight for themselves, I sent them home every summer.”

  “Nella, what happened to his money?” Zoi asks.

  “I gave it to Matt at the airport in Barbados to give back to him.”

  “Did Matt tell him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s all a big lie and I didn’t want you to live in fear. I didn’t want you to have to lie for me. If I got caught you didn’t know.”

  “Nella?” Darnell asks.

  I glare at him; I know what he wants to ask.

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t go back?” Zoi asks in ignorance.

  I smile at her in relief, glad for her innocence.

  “I can’t … but I will go back.”

  I must for whatever sanity I have left.

  My new boss is supposed to show up on Tuesday, so on Monday I meet with the director of personnel to try to get a grasp of what to expect. She is as much in the dark as I am and I sense a storm brewing. A total lack of communication from him is not a good sign but then again, if I were in his position, I would want to pick my own vice-president. I smile. He has eighty-nine days in which to do so, and if today is my last day, I’m happy about that too.

  Tuesday comes and goes and Mr. Gagnon is a no show, so at nine-thirty on Wednesday morning, I am back in the director of personnel’s office. We are friendly, so we gossip and laugh about the possibilities. Her phone buzzes. According to her secretary, Mr. Gagnon is here.

  “Nella, you have to hide,” Bridgette says in a panic, “under the desk, quick.”

  “He doesn’t know who I am, so what’s the difference?”

  “You and I are here together. What else would we be discussing but our new boss? Get under my desk, I need my job.”

  I squeeze under and find a space for my head at the back of the drawers and check to make sure that the desk is flush with the floor. I stretch out my legs, bend my head and wait.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Gagnon,” Bridgette says.

  “I want to apologize for yesterday. My secretary was supposed to be here on Monday and I left the message on her phone except she decided not to relocate and took her time telling me.”

  “Have a seat please. We were worried, but you’re here now. Welcome,” Bridgette says.

  “I was hoping to meet my vice president, but her secretary has no idea where she is. Is it possible for you to pronounce her name for me? The spelling is unfamiliar.”

  “Her name is Eunella Blakely.”

  “Eunella,” he says as if he’s testing it. “That’s unusual. Where is she from?”

  “Her name is unusual, so therefore we call her Nella.”

  “Mrs. Dawson, are you ticked off at me?” he asks.

  “To be honest, Mr. Gagnon, we feel as if we’re stepchildren. Mr. McCarty was a caring leader and the employees loved him. His ability to communicate was one of his strong points and not hearing from you left us expecting the worse.”

  “I expected Miss Blakely to cover for me and keep things under control until my arrival.”

  “You still have employees because Nella is here. Expecting her to cover for you without a conversation with her is unreasonable, Mr. Gagnon.”

  “Mrs. Dawson …”

  “Please, call me Bridgette. We’re very informal here.”

  “Bridgette, I apologize for the appearance of rudeness. I need to find Ms. Blakely and have a conversation with her, so I can begin leading this company. I will need to meet with you later to discuss a new secretary. Please have a few resumes ready for me to choose from in say … three hours.”

  I hear him get
up.

  “As you wish, Sir,” Bridgette says and the door opens and closes. “My suggestion is that you stay under there,” Bridgette adds.

  I force my way out and dust off my clothes.

  “You really should take care of the cobwebs under there,” I say as Bridgette helps by picking stuff out of my hair.”

  “Nella, are you going to stay?”

  I turn to her. She doesn’t know I’ve already made my deal.

  “No. I think he should be able to choose his vice president. I will stay to guide him through but then …” I stop. We both stare at each other. She appears older than when I first arrived. She’s showing signs of wrinkles and her dyed hair is blonder than it was twelve years ago. “I will give you lots of notice unless today is my last day.”

  I take my time and use the bathroom before I return to my office. My secretary looks anxious.

  “Nella, he’s here and he’s not happy you’re not waiting on him,” Kaitlin says.

  “He can be unhappy a while longer.” I walk into my office and close the door behind me.

  I call Zoi to make sure she’s doing alright and she’s in court; so I get ready to call Joline, my gossipy friend. I recognize my childish behavior and pickup my pad and pen instead and take the walk.

  Mary, Mr. McCarty’s secretary, is looking a little frazzled, but it could be my imagination.

  “He’s expecting you,” she mouths and I nod and smile.

  I knock.

  “Come in.”

  He’s seated with his head bent, writing.

  “Hello, I’m Eunella Blakely, your temporary vice president.”

  He raises his head and we stare at each other. My heart beats loudly in my ears. I move the pad to cover my face. I hold my breath until I get control of myself. This cannot be real. I’m not Ella, the slut. I’m Eunella, the professional, who doesn’t give a hoot how he feels about me personally. I lower my hands. He’s standing now and still staring into my face.

  “Mr. Gagnon, welcome. We were expecting you yesterday, but that was probably in Canadian time,” I say sarcastically, reaching out my hand to him.