Wronged Desires

by Lillian MacKenzie Rhine

  The sluggishness of not wanting to deal with any more surprises did not help as I progressed across the row of cubicles to get to my own office. Sandra was at her desk working, only offering a flighty smile. Not feeding into her apparently foul mood, I stepped into my office noting that at least she brought in my favorite cup of coffee. She must not be that angry.

  With no meetings scheduled for the day, I took the time to open up new proposals for the upcoming fiscal year. There was a lot of work to be done in the budgeting and expense sectors, which was part of Sandra’s position as my assistant. By lunch I had a large stack of notes and figures that I wanted her to compile into the typical spreadsheets to be ready by the beginning of the following week. I collected the folders to take to her desk. When she saw me coming, she let out the loudest sigh, which stuttered my step for a moment. Sandra was not one to be disgusted with her job duties, but in that moment you would have thought that I was asking her to run a country mile. As I set the folders in her in-box, she looked up at me like I was a yeti.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked wondering what she was having an issue with.

  “Actually, with everything that’s going on, I figured you would take it a little easy on me. Now with catching up, you’re sitting a bunch of work in my lap that’s due next week, which is tough.”

  Listening to her made me want to take a mental coffee break. I can’t believe the woman who thirsts off working hard and deadlines is asking me to cut her some slack on her own job.

  “I understand that you’re going through a lot of personal issues, and I’m here for you as a friend. However, when it comes to being my assistant and doing the job that you’re being paid for, I believe I’m not stepping outside of the bounds of your typical job duties.” Sandra rolled her eyes and snatched at one of the files on the desk. “You know, if you want to talk as friends, we can do that, but there is no reason to act bratty.” It took every ounce of good sense that my grandmother instilled in me not to go completely off on her, but I had to keep in mind that hormones and stress were the reason behind her awful attitude.

  “No, you’re absolutely right. This is the job that pays me, and I should do what I’m paid to do right?” Her statement was filled with so much sarcasm and bitchiness that I had to remove myself from the discussion and her desk.

  Reclining in my desk chair, listening to the soothing sounds of REM, I found myself fight desperately against the mother of migraines inching up the back of my cranium. I regretted that my circle of friends was slim to none, because I was past due for an alcohol binge vent session to sort through my feelings. Grandma, speak to me please. Tell me what to do. I feel so alone in this world. My best friend is turning out to be not the person that I thought her to be. I guess she was who I needed her to be when I really needed someone in my corner, but she has another world going on that I want no part of. Then there’s Kem. I found myself grinning, feeling the tickling of good feelings soothing my aching head. Kem, your baby boy. Grandma, what am I supposed to do about him? We’re divorced. I’m not supposed to be having these types of feelings toward him. The burn of tears started to crack through my broken exterior. I wish you were here to make me a peach cobbler. I want to sit on the back porch swinging my legs, sitting in the draft of green tomato and herb aromas while they flow through the back porch screen door. Not being able to hold the flood of emotion, I sobbed silently into my hands. As soon as I started, I sat myself up, wiping away the shame and stress. Clearing my throat, I went back to working on my upcoming projects. Thank you, Grandma. I needed that and now I know exactly what to do.

  When I stepped through my front door, Kem was sitting on the couch in the living room. Hesitantly I slid off my heels as he watched. “Can I talk to you?” Kem sounded like his pet hamster had died and it was his job to deliver the news to me. “Sure,” I said sitting next to him.

  “I wanted to thank you for letting me stay here, but I understand that my being here has been an inconvenience.” Did he practice this speech? “So with that being said, The Four Seasons will have a suite open for the length of my stay this Friday. I’ll try my best to stay out of your way until then.”

  “But no one is asking you to stay out of my way. I mean, surprisingly enough it’s been a pleasure of sorts to have you here. You cook, and I cannot cook worth a damn.” I couldn’t believe I was pleading a case for Kem to stay. He rubbed my knee, grinning. Oh no, not the pitiful-knee-rub gesture. “Vic, after everything that has happened, I think it’s best that I leave. There’s just so much going on that I need time to think.”

  Is he breaking up with me? Breaking up? What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with my life? Without having anything else to add to the conversation, I got up. “Okay, Kem.” I headed into the kitchen to have a turkey sandwich, pita chips, and hummus. As far as I knew, Kem was still sitting on the couch when I closed the door to my room for the night. I’m done being affected by everyone’s thoughts and psychotic behavior. It’s time to focus on Victoria starting this weekend after Kem leaves.

  Making my way through the rest of the week was simple once I realized my office had a door that I could close, shutting out the black cloud that was Sandra. Funny thing, my bedroom had a door as well, so I could tune out the comings and goings of Kemington Sutter. By Wednesday, I decided to pick up more days in the gym as a release. I was in desperate need of a change in scenery, so the weekend could not come too soon. The Thursday evening before Kem’s exit from the house was tense for some reason. He was busy in his room gathering all his belongings and making phone calls. All the shifting of things and pacing up and down the corridor was getting to me, so I stepped into my track pants and sports bra. Kem knocked on my open door when I laced up my sneakers. I lifted my eyes long enough to acknowledge him then continued to tie my laces. “Just letting you know that I’ll be gone by the time you get home from work tomorrow.” I stood to lunge and shift my weight between my thighs, and stretched my muscles in front of him. Yes I’m being rude, but he was rude making all that damn noise.

  “That’s great, because I’m taking a half day tomorrow. Going on a day trip to clear my head.”

  His eyebrows peaked with curiosity. “Really? If you don’t mind me asking, where are you heading to?”

  “Houston.”

  Kem dropped his head for a moment, reacting in the way that I expected. “Houston huh?” Peering at me again, he muttered under his breath, “Nan.”

  “Yes. I’m going to the old house for the weekend.” After my grandma passed away, Kem purchased my grandmother’s house, the only home I’d known. He presented it to me on my twenty-fifth birthday as a present, which took my love for him to another level. When it came to sentimental things like that, Kemington Sutter was incomparable.

  “That’s great, Vic. You need to relax for a bit considering the stress of dealing with your assistant amongst other things.” Amongst other things, he says. Tying my hair into a messy ponytail, I walked past Kem toward the kitchen to gather a water bottle. “Going to the gym?” What do you care? “Actually I decided to go for a run.” He nodded, tittering a little. “What’s so funny?”

  “The fact that you’re going on a run. You don’t run, plus it’s like Satan’s living room outside,” he said.

  “I know it’s hot, but I need some air. So if you don’t mind.” He fanned his hand out as if to show me the way to the door. Shaking my head, I headed out the door letting the dry heat smack me dead in the face. Kem was probably right, running in a heat wave was not the brightest of ideas, but there was no turning back. I started out at a slow trot then worked up to a jog. I felt as if I was leaving the negativity behind as my hair brushed against my moistened back. Being one with myself was the only thing of importance. The thick, heavy warmth of the air was oddly comforting, pushing me forward. As I finished my run, I rounded the corner a block up from my estate and decided to sprint the rest of the way. An invisible strength pushed me up the hill that was my driveway. I saw
Kem leaning against the columns of my front entryway with a towel and a bottle of water. Gasping for air and holding my side, I panted, “How did you know I was coming?”

  “Let’s just say lucky guess. Or I’ve been waiting out here for nearly twenty minutes.”

  “Really? How long have I been gone?”

  “Almost two hours. I was about to send a search party for you.” I smacked his arm with the same towel that he offered me, and walked into the house. Kem was following me but when I entered my room I turned and grabbed the water bottle in his hand. “Thank you Mr. Sutter,” I purred, then shut the door in his face.

  When I ate breakfast the next morning, Kem’s bags were waiting at the front door, but my mind was on only one track. Dressed in yellow skinny jeans, white silk camisole, turquoise pumps, and accessories, I left for work to attend the one scheduled meeting for the day. When I got to my office, Sandra was nowhere to be found, but her finished reports were on my desk. Quick to not let the towering files annoy me, I put the bothersome work in a box to take with me when I left for the day. Nothing was going to upset my day.

  The meeting didn’t take long, so I hoisted my box full of work and nodded to a wide-eyed Sandra as I headed to the elevator. I kept the car running as I ran into the house to get my suitcase and hit the road before the afternoon rush hour. True to his word, Kem was finally gone, but I decided not to acknowledge how cold the house felt without him in it. In the few hours of travel time, I listened to what I loved the most, alternative and soft rock music. I picked up a hot dog and coke on the way into town, deciding to head out after I got settled to pick up necessities for my stay.

  The sight of my grandmother’s house gave me tingles all over, because her spirit would be forever with me. Kem and I hired a management company to take care of the maintenance of the property, and the freshly cut and watered lawn and swept porch showed the money was well spent. The scent of tart lemon cleaning products pricked at my nostrils when I entered the airy foyer. I toed off my sneakers that I had changed into for the drive then situated them in the downstairs closet, because Lord knew I was not about to sling my things around in my grandmother’s house.

  The throw rugs that I used to stretch across to do midterm papers were just as vibrant as they had been over a decade ago. I fell back on the floral sofa kicking my feet up on the arm, watching the ceiling fan swirl through the fragrant air that I loved so much. Once I felt the somber effects of sadness crawl up my mental core, I quickly washed them away needing to have a positive weekend. I bolted upright, running to the kitchen window to look out on the garden. The greens and reds of the peppers and tomatoes plus the huge heads of lettuce made me want to run barefoot in the soil harvesting the choicest bits for dinner.

  I skipped two steps at a time going up to my grandmother’s room as if she would be in there reading one of her favorite romance novels. The room was kept just how I wanted it, the same way she had it before she died. Her hand-stitched quilt was folded double atop the white linen sheets that covered the bed fit for a queen. Her four pillows were fluffed and sitting against the iron rod headboard. Her vanity with the choicest perfume bottles and makeup sat across the room near the window that showed the setting sun. I had given all of her clothes and shoes away to charity but her closet still had the aroma of vanilla and talcum. Joy spilled through me as I basked in the space that still held her presence.

  I tiptoed to my old room, bringing my suitcases with me, remembering the days that I would sneak out in the middle of the night for cookies. My double bed was clad with the same white linens as the master bedroom. Grandma believed white bedsheets were the only sheets that made the room look aesthetically clean. They used to give me the feel of a hospital but it was her house, not mine.

  My dresser and chest of drawers were topped with all the academic awards that wouldn’t fit in the overfilled cabinet and mantel downstairs. Face planting my body into my mattress, I curled into a ball and soundly slept until the next morning.

  I loved Houston in the mornings. The sun rose slowly in the peach sky and the faint smell of mist was in the air. It was closer to a major body of water than Dallas, so the difference in the dryness of the air was pronounced to me. The house was located in a small northeastern suburb of Houston called Humble, Texas. There were all walks of life, from the affluent who wanted to escape the liveliness of the city to the sleepy population of retirees and veterans who had acres of land to play around with. My grandmother’s street was one of those quiet blocks filled with a mix of older inhabitants, so life was lonely for me as a child growing up.

  Traveling to the market to buy fresh meats, cheeses, and pastas was something I looked forward to doing with my grandmother on the weekends, so visiting the market now was just as special. I spent a good portion of the day exploring new shops and eateries before I headed back to the homestead. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed my grandmother’s good friend and neighbor sitting on the porch of her house across the street. I quickly put all the supplies away, changing clothes into a floral sundress and sandals. I crossed the street waving at Miss Edna. “Hey, Babygirl,” she shouted behind her brightened face.

  “Hi Miss Edna. How are you?” I asked sitting on the top step of her porch and turning in her direction.

  “Chile, I’m doing well. How are you doing these days? It’s been a while since you’ve come to visit,” she said.

  “Yes, it has been a while. I’m doing pretty good, Miss Edna, just came down to check on the house.”

  “Well, those folks that you got coming by take real good care of the place. Your gran would’ve been proud of how good the house looking. Where that fancy husband of yours? He shole is a sweet talker.” Miss Edna was blushing at the thought of the man that visited every house on the block with gift baskets of home baked goods and lingering cheek pecks.

  “Oh, Miss Edna, Kem and I are no longer together.” I hated breaking the news to her.

  “Chile, say what now? I know you didn’t go an’ get rid of that boy. He’s a good man that one, unlike my son-in-law who ain’t the worth the pot he got to piss in,” she said shaking her head. “Well I’m shole going to miss that husband of yours. He like to keep us old folks on this block alive with all that good cooking.” Amen to that good cooking. “You sure you okay, chile? You look worried about something.” Am I looking so bad that people can read me that well?

  “Just the usual work and stress, nothing to worry about,” I stated, a glossed-over truth.

  “Well this country air will do you some good. You’ll find what you need soon enough, chile, but I’m about to head in. Storm coming.” Miss Edna rose, walking in through her front door as I witnessed the angry clouds in the distance. She closed the door minus an utterance of good-bye, which is common amongst a lot of the elders I knew. When I crossed the street, the wind was starting to pick up, pushing my blue floral sundress against my legs, causing me to run inside.

  “Wow, that storm came out of nowhere,” I said to myself, looking out the window at the heavy droplets turning the pavement to a darker gray. Opting for a can of chicken noodle soup and apple juice, I flopped on the couch and started one of my favorite DVD combos—The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. Partway through the first movie, my phone rang out Kem’s ringtone.

  “Hello?” I asked, thinking, Now why is he calling me out of the blue?

  “Hey, Vic. How are you?” Kem asked.

  “I’m well, and yourself?”

  “I’m great. I wanted to call and make sure you made it in yesterday okay.”

  “Sure, I made it just fine. Sorry I didn’t call. I got here and crashed. I mean I fell asleep.” I definitely did not need him to worry with my bad choice of words.

  “No, I wouldn’t expect for you to call. It’s fine. How’s the house?” I paused the movie, settling in for a possible long conversation.

  “The house is great. The garden is thriving, so the management company was an excellent investment for the upkeep.”
>
  His even breaths showed his sense of relief and overall happiness over the phone.

  “That’s really good. Have you seen any of the neighbors?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just chatted with Miss Edna from across the street a few minutes ago. She asked about you. She was raving about your cooking,” I added.

  “Oh, she did?” He chuckled. “Did she mention if she got the Christmas card and gift basket I sent her?”

  “Christmas card? You sent her a Christmas card?” It was taking everything in me to extinguish the flame of irritation he was igniting.

  “Yes, I sent Christmas cards to all the neighbors.” His admission brought about another question.

  “Let me ask you this, how were these Christmas cards signed?” Dead silence. “Kemington Sutter?”

  “Merry Christmas from The Sutters.”

  I wanted to scream. “No wonder she was asking about you. I had to break it to her that we had divorced. Why would you send them Christmas cards of all things and sign it that way? What an ass!”

  “Why am I an ass? I didn’t want them to worry about us. No need to know about the divorce considering it was very recent.” Very recent? He is out of his rabbit mind.

  “You tell them because it’s the truth, that’s why. Plus I wouldn’t consider nine months to be recent. Almost a year is long enough to let people in on the so-called secret. Now I look like the woman who couldn’t keep her man.” I closed my eyes, restraining myself from cursing Kem out when I heard him snickering. “What the hell is so damn funny?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you can tell them I was the one who couldn’t keep my woman,” his snickering turned into a chuckle, then he erupted in laughter. I couldn’t resist smiling then laughing along with him.

  “I can’t stand you,” I blurted, completely annoyed by him in the worst way.

  “Don’t get upset with me because I have the ability to make you laugh even when you’re pissed.” He definitely was telling the truth with that statement. A crack of thunder boomed outside the living room window. “Whoa, what was that noise in the background?”