Uncollared

by Nona Raines

  But sheer determination had helped Serina succeed where others failed. She now had a job she enjoyed that helped support her child and that someday might lead to better things.

  “They got me doing some filing and stuff, and you know they’re changing a lot of stuff over to the computers, so they’re showing me how to do that too.” Serina’s chest expanded with pride, which filled out the tight T-shirt she wore with the name of a group Mia didn’t recognize: Slammin’ Hammers.

  “That’s terrific, Serina…but, um”—Mia cleared her throat—“you don’t wear anything like that on the job, do you?”

  The girl blinked and gave her a huge grin. “Aw, no, Miz Manetti, don’t worry about that. I remember the stuff from that class you made me take. About proper business attire and all that.”

  The class that Mia had “made” Serina attend was part of the county’s program to assist the unemployed in finding jobs. Of course not everyone needed to learn the basic skills to make them employable. Mia worked with many folks who were employed, but who were part of the working poor and could not make ends meet though working forty or more hours a week. But Serina came from a family where intergenerational poverty and unemployment meant some of the basic skills were simply lacking. The girl’s original attitude had been Why do I gotta take some dumb classes? and How come you can’t just give me what I need?

  But once she started, Serina soaked up the information like a sponge. And she used her knowledge first helping to file in the County Office Building, then moving on to the job in an insurance office that she enjoyed so well.

  “I was real nervous when I first started, you know, thinking maybe they’d look down on me for being a single mom and everything,” Serina went on, flipping back her hair in her trademark gesture. “But this lady there—her name’s Teresa; she’s real nice—she took me under her wing, kind of. She’s got a teenage daughter with a baby, like me, and they live with her.” The girl sighed. “Sure wish my mom was like Teresa.”

  Serina did not get along with her mother, mainly due to the fact that the mother drank and was often verbally abusive. Serina had also been the result of a teenage pregnancy.

  “I’m not gonna treat my baby like my mom treats me,” Serina murmured, as though making a promise to herself.

  It broke Mia’s heart. She wished she could do more for girls like Serina, for all the people who came to her for help.

  “How’s Jacob doing?” Mia asked, referring to Serina’s son.

  “Oh, he’s getting so big! He’s so cute, Miz Manetti. Wait, I got a picture!” She dug around in her backpack-sized bag and came out with a wallet. She proudly showed Mia a photo of a sturdy little toddler with chubby cheeks and a mischievous smile.

  “He’s sweet,” Mia said.

  “Oh, he looks sweet, Miz Manetti, but let me tell you, he’s a terror! I mean, I’m chasin’ after him all day long! My sister’s watchin’ him now; I hope she’s still in one piece by the time I get back!”

  Mia laughed. “How old is he now?”

  “Getting on to three.” She returned the wallet and pulled something else out of the bag. “There’s something else I wanted to show you.” She was shy now and seemed younger than her nineteen years as she handed the framed object to Mia.

  “Oh, Serina.” It was the girl’s GED certificate.

  “I took it to one of those stores, you know, where they frame it real professionally. See, I picked out the color of the matte and everything. I wanted you to see it, ’cause I couldn’t of done it without you.”

  Tears stung Mia’s eyes. Most days in the social services department were like banging your head against a stone wall, but moments like this made the job worthwhile. “You were the one who did it. It was your hard work.”

  “Yeah, but you were the one who encouraged me. My mom never—well, you know she never graduated high school. And she told me, ‘Aw, what d’you want to bother with that stuff for?’ Sometimes I think she’s jealous, you know? Or maybe she’s scared I’d think I was better than her or something? You were the one who told me I could succeed if I tried. And I did! Thank you, Miz Manetti.”

  “Okay, you’re gonna make me cry now.” Mia laughed. “Like I said, it’s your doing. But if I helped, I’m glad.”

  Serina beamed as she took back the framed document and admired it a bit longer.

  “I hope you’ve got a special place on your wall for that,” Mia remarked, surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “Oh, you bet. And I’m gonna show it to Jacob and say, ‘See, your mommy’s a graduate. The first one in our family. But not the last. You’re gonna be one too.’ Oh! I almost forgot!” Serina took a foil-wrapped item from her bag and placed it on top of the files cramming Mia’s desk.

  “What?” Mia found a dozen brownies when she opened the foil. “Oh, Serina. How nice.”

  The girl lifted her shoulder, trying to make light of it. “I made them myself. Hope they didn’t get too squashed in my purse.”

  Mia broke off a corner from one of the brownies and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious. Thank you.”

  “I wanted to, you know, just say thanks. No, that’s okay,” Serina replied when Mia offered her one of the treats. When she pulled the strap of the purse over her shoulder, Mia wondered that she didn’t list sideways. Serina stood, hesitating.

  “Um…I was just wondering…” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I mean, are you okay?”

  The question startled Mia. “Of course. I…” A nervous laugh escaped her. “Why? Do I seem like I’m not okay?”

  “Well, kinda.” Serina’s mouth twisted in discomfort, but her forthright nature would not let her hold back. “You’ve been sorta droopy the past couple times I’ve been here.”

  Droopy. Oh boy.

  “I mean, you’re not sick or something, are you?”

  Mia’s face warmed with embarrassment. “No, I’m not sick. I’m all right. But thanks for asking.”

  “Okay, sure. I gotta get going,” Serina said, stepping back, her own cheeks flushed. “Gary’s supposed to be picking up Jacob today. He was supposed to come yesterday, but he’s such an ass—oops, ’scuse me, I mean jerk—that he never showed.”

  “Has everything been all right with Gary lately?” Serina’s relationship with her ex-boyfriend and baby daddy was contentious to say the least.

  “Oh yeah.” Serina blew off the question like it was no big deal.

  “Because if you don’t feel safe—”

  “Aw, it’s nothing like that. Gary just likes to flex his muscles, show off. He’s just a bas—I mean, a creep, sometimes.”

  Serina said good-bye and left, leaving Mia with her thoughts and her brownies. A few minutes later, someone peeked in the opening of Mia’s cubicle.

  “Are those brownies you have there?” Ronni Washington batted her big brown eyes, clearly hoping for an invitation to share.

  Mia motioned her in. “Yes, they are and how did you know?”

  “You know how word travels around here—especially when food is concerned.”

  “I better have one now, then,” Mia replied, offering one to her coworker as well.

  Ronni lowered herself to the seat that Serina had vacated and rubbed her very large baby bump. “Thanks. I’ve been craving sweets a lot more with this pregnancy than with any of my others. I wonder if that means I’m finally going to get my little girl.” Ronni and her husband already had three sons.

  “If it’s another boy, are you going to go again?”

  Ronni’s eyes widened as though Mia had flipped her lid. “Bite your tongue, woman.”

  They chewed their treats with a few murmurs of appreciation. “Serina brought you these?”

  Mia nodded. “She wanted to show me her GED. And thank me. It was sweet.”

  Ronni sighed. “It’s nice to have a happy outcome once in a while, isn’t it? I swear it’s like swimming upstream some days, fighting the current all the way.”

  “I he
ar you.” Mia frowned. “I’m concerned that ex of Serina’s is giving her a hard time.”

  “Listen, what have I told you? You can’t solve the world’s problems. Once you’ve done the best you can—and you have—you just have to let go and let God.” Ronni gave her a stern look. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, I hear.” She paused a moment. “Have I been looking…droopy lately?”

  Ronni answered promptly. “Yes.”

  Mia’s mouth crimped. “Thanks.”

  Ronni shrugged. “Honey, you’ve been dragging around here for weeks. Did Serina say something?” At Mia’s nod, she went on. “Well, it’s about time somebody did.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I figured you needed some time to lick your wounds. We’ve all been through boyfriend troubles, hon.”

  Boyfriend troubles. Ronni didn’t know the half.

  “But enough’s enough. Time to dust yourself off, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, and get back on the horse. Have I used enough clichés?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Well, here are a couple more—no point crying over spilled milk, and there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

  There were no other “fish” like Master Philip, but Ronni had a point. Mia had spent far too much time moping and feeling sorry for herself.

  She nodded in understanding. “Message received.”

  Ronni smiled and stood. “How about lunch today?”

  “If I can make a dent in all my paperwork,” Mia answered, indicating the tower of file folders on her desk. “And I have to battle it out with the power company.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Stevensons are about to have their power turned off because they’re four months behind in their payments.” Mia shook her head wearily.

  “Four months? Why didn’t they come in sooner?”

  “The mother said she thought they’d be able to come up with the money from her husband working overtime, but that fell through. Then one of kids got sick, and they had to pay the doctor, and so on and so forth.”

  So on and so forth. One thing after another. Families like the Stevensons were already living on the edge, and one little thing going wrong—like a sick child—could mean having to choose between paying the doctor and paying the light bill. But pride sometimes kept them from asking for help until the situation turned dire.

  “Well, good luck with that.” Ronni shook a playful finger at her friend. “And don’t forget your documentation.”

  “No chance of that.” Mia sighed. “I’m drowning in it.”

  “Just keep on swimming.” Ronni waggled her fingers in farewell.

  A moment later Kevin Burton poked his head in the door. “Did I hear there are brownies?”

  * * * *

  Droopy didn’t half describe it.

  When she got home that afternoon, Mia forced herself to look in the mirror and really see what she’d done to herself the past two months. She shook her head in disgust. Those hollow-eyed, pasty-faced zombies from the Living Dead films had nothing on her.

  She had always been boyishly slim, but with her recent lack of appetite, she’d become downright scrawny. She resembled an anorectic waif with bad skin. And what was up with her hair? Bed head didn’t begin to cover it. It looked like it had been styled with hedge trimmers. Good God, had she really appeared in public like this?

  Serina’s comment was a wake-up call. Ashamed of herself, Mia made up her mind that things would change. Today she’d start taking care of herself again. A nice long walk would do her good.

  There was more to it than vanity. Every day at her job, she tried to help people like Serina improve their lives. She was, or wanted to be, a role model. How could she ask her clients to care about themselves if she didn’t do the same?

  She changed out of her work clothes, slipped on a pair of running shoes, and then walked the few blocks to a nearby park.

  Mia took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. Fallen leaves crunched under her boots as runners and power walkers swept by her on the path in Meyers Park. A few months ago, Mia might have been one of them. Sadly out of shape now, she was glad to simply keep up a moderate pace.

  She used to come to the park four or five days a week, not just for the exercise, but to people watch as well. She realized now just how much she’d missed it. The past two months, there were too many things that she’d stopped doing, too many things she’d stopped enjoying. Eating. Exercising. Hanging with her friends, going to movies, shopping, cooking.

  All because Master Philip didn’t want her.

  She’d spent too much time in a self-pitying funk. Easy to tell herself to be strong that first night, when Philip let her go. Later, reality set in. She spent her days at work on autopilot, only to come home, flop on the sofa, and spend every night and most of the weekend zoned out in front of the tube. Even that wasn’t safe—it only took some drippy TV movie or sappy commercial to bring on the stupid tears.

  She bounced between sadness and simmering anger. Philip never explained why he let her go. There’d been no warning, no chance to do better. It wasn’t fair.

  It’s time to move on. What the hell did that mean?

  But she’d never have answers. And she’d wasted too much time obsessing over it. Well, no more. Ronni was right—time to end the pity party.

  And so Mia walked in the park, actually smiling and enjoying the day. She stopped at a hot-dog wagon and got herself a snack. As she finished the last bite of her hot dog, Mia came upon someone else in a cheerful mood.

  A handsome yellow Lab pranced over to her, a stick in his mouth, his tail wagging happily.

  “Hi, big guy.” She stroked the dog’s silky ears and gave him a playful noogie on the head. The Lab smiled around the stick and huffed with pleasure. He opened his mouth and let the stick fall onto Mia’s boot.

  “Ugh, Bailey, that’s disgusting.”

  Recognizing the voice, Mia looked up at the speaker.

  “Hello, Mia,” he said.

  It was Master Chess.

  Chapter Three

  Mia hadn’t seen him since the night he brought her home from LoFiglio’s.

  “Hello.” When they met in the club, she addressed him as “Master” Chess, but that wouldn’t do here in public. And calling him “Sir” would certainly raise a few eyebrows. Mia wasn’t sure how to address him.

  “It’s Francesco,” he told her, guessing her dilemma. Many Doms and subs used pseudonyms or nicknames in the club, to ensure their privacy and keep their personal activities separate from their vanilla lives. “It’s good to see you.” He looked her up and down, appraising her.

  Mia self-consciously pulled her sweater tighter around herself. Master Chess’s—Francesco’s—gray eyes took in everything, the weight loss, the bad hair, the shadowed eyes. And she’d been biting her nails. He noticed that too.

  While he of course looked perfect. The light jacket he wore looked expensive. His dark blond hair was styled in that I-just-ran-my-hand-through-it look. He had a high forehead, a long straight nose, and a slight indentation in his chin. His philtrum, the groove above his upper lip, was so sharply cut that Mia wanted to touch it.

  Oh man. Where did that come from?

  A shiver went through her. She’d avoided thinking of Chess. Remembering that night only brought back the pain of Philip’s rejection. But now she recalled how Chess held her hands at her door, how he looked at her.

  “You will have another Master, Mia. And when he finds you, I hope he realizes what a lucky man he is.”

  She remembered the spark that flashed through her at his touch. How it had scared and confused her. Seeing him now made her heart rate spike and the hairs on her neck prickle.

  To hide her reaction, she bent down and picked up the slobbery stick and tossed it a few feet away. “There you go, buddy!”

  They watched Bailey race after the stick. Chess—she really couldn’t think of him as anything else—turned to Mia with a lopside
d smile. “I’m sorry about the dog spit on your shoes.”

  “No problem. They were on clearance,” she explained with a shrug. Unlike his shoes; Mia wouldn’t be surprised if he had them custom made.

  It suddenly struck her how strange it was to see him in Meyers Park when they’d never ever run across each other here before. Why today…?

  The answer eluded Mia as she rubbed her fingers together and realized that not just her boots were slimy with dog drool. Chess slipped a cloth out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Maybe this will help.”

  Mia held it for a moment, blinking. A genuine cloth handkerchief. Monogrammed, no less. It felt silky and expensive. “Thank you,” she finally managed. She couldn’t help but feel she was desecrating it as she wiped her hands. When she finished, Mia held it crumpled in her hand, at a loss. Handing it back to him dirty wasn’t quite the thing.

  “I can, uh, I can get this cleaned for you,” she offered.

  He nodded. “That’s fine. Just hold on to it for now. You can give it back to me when you see me at the club.”

  Bailey returned with his stick, his wagging tail thumping Chess’s pant leg as he looked up hopefully at Mia. Again he dropped the stick, this time on the grass by her feet.

  “Bailey, you’re a pest.” Chess bent down and picked up the stick and tossed it. “Go now.”

  He looked at Mia once again. “Speaking of the club, I haven’t noticed you there lately.”

  She flushed, not knowing how to answer. She’d never been to Restraint without Philip, and had no intention of returning now. What for? To watch him with another woman? A sick feeling of helplessness came over her.

  If Philip visited the club without her, surely the news had spread that she was no longer his sub. How humiliating to think they all knew he no longer wanted her.

  The helplessness instantly morphed to anger at the thought of being the object of everyone’s pity. Her eyes flashed to Chess. Did he feel sorry for her too?

  “I’ve been busy,” she answered, her voice flat.

  Yeah, real busy. Busy feeling sorry for yourself while Philip’s having fun with someone new.

  She let the mean thought roll around in her brain to punish herself for caring. She wanted to hate Philip, but she couldn’t, in spite of all her anger and sadness.