by Kirsten Lee
“Oh! I forgot to tell you about that. She met this Mexican guy at the dig and they just hit it off. It was love at first sight. They are flying to Las Vegas next week to get married there and then go directly to the next dig in Venezuela. She said something about being there for at least another six months.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised. “Janey didn’t seem like the kind of person to get married. And especially not to get married to someone after such a short period of time.” I thought I knew her, but I obviously don’t.
“You think you’re surprised. Imagine the shock my family are dealing with at the moment. Firstly, they were very disapproving of her not attending Pam’s memorial service and now this. I’m sure you can imagine Katherine’s opinion on this.”
“Urgh. Can I ever. Well, if Janey thinks it is the right thing to do, then I wish her all the happiness she deserves.” I suppose this means that Blossom is to stay with me for a while longer and I honestly can’t say that I mind. Come to think of it, it would break my heart to give him back. The farting fiend has really crept into my heart.
As soon as we get home, Erin packs his things and prepares to leave. We’re standing outside by his car and I really don’t want to let him go. Just having his energy in my space for the last two days have given me a boost. He is very dear to me.
“Oh, I do miss you a lot.” I give Erin a long hug and wish I was back in the city, so we can see each other daily and keep closer track of each other’s lives. He’s such a good sounding board. I might not always agree with his advice or opinions on my life, but he always gets me thinking.
“You’ll be home soon, Al.” Blossom is standing with us at the car and he ruffles his ears. “Look after her for me, you horrible dog.”
“Don’t speak to him like that, mate. Alex will have your head for it. Ask me, I know.” The two men give each other manly handshakes and manly hugs, and Erin gets in his car. A tear forms behind my left eye and threatens to push its way past my eyeball and reveal the sentimental side I take great pains in concealing.
“If you cry, I will put my toilet spray back in the wash room.” The solitary tear evaporates immediately and I slowly turn bright eyes on his, shining with annoyance.
“I will not dignify that with a response,” is the only comeback I have at such short notice and I turn around to walk into the house, trying to exude a snootiness I do not feel. I really need to work on my responses – that one was really lame.
“Here you go.” Adam hands me the hot chocolate and settles next to me on the couch. We’re listening to music and reading in the living room. I’m reading a book about ancient civilisations and am surprised at how much I am enjoying this. Not only is it informative and I enjoy learning about the way people lived in those days, but when I mention my current reading material, people also nod with a new-found respect for my intellect which makes me feel ever so intelligent. For a few moments I then allow myself to wallow in my perceived intellect which conveys dark-wooded libraries, professors and muted voices. And then reality’s curled index finger comes up and hits me on the tip of my nose and says, “Made you look!”
Adam reaches for the remote control and changes to another CD. Listening to music together has proved to test my negotiation skills to its limits. We have diverse tastes and I insist on listening to music that befits my mood, whereas Adam is of the opinion that we should listen to music to create our moods. Tonight we settled the dispute in record time – only twenty minutes – and are now listening to jazz. We always seem to settle on that since our tastes in this genre agrees more than in any other genre. I sigh with contentment and lose myself in my book.
“Alex?”
I finish my sentence and look up at Adam. “Hmm?”
“Look at us.”
“Yes, what?”
“No, I mean really. Look at us.”
I sigh with the interruption, put my book down and focus on us. With a hot-cold feeling spreading though me, I realise that Erin was right this morning. We are doing the couple thing. Adam is sitting at the end of the couch and I’m stretched out on the length of the couch with my head on his lap. When did I do that? His right arm is on the armrest and he’s holding his book at an arm’s length. His left hand rests on my stomach and I am playing with the cuff of his sleeve. I look back up and him and give him a resigned smile.
“We really are as bad as Erin said.”
“Seems like it.” He puts down his book, turns his left hand over and catches my hand in his. “Alex…”
“Adam, please don’t.” I close my eyes for a moment and try to calm down. I have a war of feelings in me. On the one side I have the howling wolf with his tongue lolling and my stomach turns with delighted anticipation. That all relates to the physical attraction. On the other side the emotional attraction also makes my stomach turn, but with the kind of terror associated with police stations, biblical anecdotes and support therapists.
“Don’t what?”
“Just don’t.” I try to sit up, but Adam holds me in position with his hand on my stomach.
“Don’t run away.” He looks down at me. He has a little double chin when he looks down at this angle and I try my best to not look up his nostrils. “You can’t deny that there is something between us. It’s been there since the first day.”
“You mean the day you left me on the side of the road with Al?” I lift my eyebrow hoping to give him the you-must-be-joking look I’ve been practising in the mirror. “Yea, sheer magic.”
“For once be serious, Alex. You know what I’m talking about.” His intense look makes me want to wriggle with discomfort, but I remain stoically still on his lap. Not a position of power, let me tell you that. He examines my face a little longer as I’m struggling to slow my heartbeat down from a drum roll to a mild patter.
“The day will come.” His soft seductive words hit my heart full force and the drum roll is going for the finishing line. His hand lifts from my stomach and I raise myself, with as much dignity as I can muster with a pulse that would make a metronome malfunction, into a sitting position.
On the other side of the couch.
“Stop threatening me with wicked pleasures and bring me more hot chocolate.” Please, oh please, let this diversion work. Adam looks at me for a long time and I’m now praying to every god of every religion I’ve ever heard of to make him go for it.
“The big or the small cup?”
“The small cup will be enough, thank you.” I am a believer. There is a god! Adam gets up and walks around the back of the couch to the door. He stops behind me, bends down and speaks so close to my ear, his breath makes my hair move.
“We will talk about this.”
Bollocks!
Chapter 18
“Ms Fields, if I can see you in my office, please.” Adam is standing at the door of my office looking decidedly sexy and disturbingly cantankerous. This vision could also be an illusion created by my extreme state of exhaustion. It’s Friday and there’s only seven full days left before the opening of the festival, and I’ve spent the last few days in this little cubicle of mine, going home only to catch a few hours sleep and put on fresh clothes.
I didn’t make it home last night. My clothes are wrinkled and I feel like the second week of a garbage strike. I look with envy at how fresh Adam looks. He has the look of a rested, showered, clean clothed man. It is going to take three weeks of intense dermatological care to make my face lose the ten years the last week added to it. I give Adam a facial expression best described as a grimace, and nod.
“Give me ten minutes.”
“No. I want to see you in my office now.” His tone has quite an effect in my office. Ray lifts his head and looks at Adam in surprise, I lift my eyebrow – it is the only thing I have energy to lift at such short notice – and narrow my eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I would like for you to walk with me to my office right now. Please.” The last word had no effect whatsoever to soften the non-negotiabil
ity of his demand. I just don’t have the energy to fight him today, so I lift my wrinkled self out of my chair and throw a glance, filled with consternation, over my shoulder at Ray. What now?
My working marathon has paid off and I dare say that everything is more or less in place. I stayed in the office last night for that exact purpose. I wanted to finish up all the emails, contracts and paperwork this week so that I can spend as much time as possible at the dairy next week. I want to keep an eye on the finishing touches to the buildings. For today, there are only a few loose ends still to be tied up.
I’m so busy trying to remember the name of the contact person for the set-up crew, that I don’t realise we are making the trip to the elevator in total silence. He is walking with his usual upright confidence and I’m dragging my heeled feet behind him. Only when we enter the elevator do I realise that we haven’t said a word to each other.
I also remember now that Adam called me Ms Fields. Why? I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable. But…What is that contact person’s name? Something with a G… George, G… G… James, Ja…Jo…
“Anthony!” My triumphant cry startles even me in the small confines of the elevator. Adam gives me a strange look I haven’t seen him give me yet and shakes his head. I must, I must remember to phone Anthony and get the number of crew members from him, so I can let the catering company know. No, not the catering company. I must let Tariska know.
“Come on, Alex.” We’ve arrived on his floor and Adam steers me out the elevator by the elbow. We pass Agatha and I’m truly confused when she doesn’t give me the usual disapproving look, but a look resembling compassion washes over me. I must be really tired today to think that she cares. We enter Adam’s office and he leads me to the little wash room that’s attached to his office. I wish I had one like that in my cubicle to freshen up. I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror for at least two days. Juan, Erin and all the girls at Heaven would be horror-struck.
“Um… Adam, where are you taking me?” I realise that he’s taking me in to his little wash room and for the life of me, I cannot imagine for what. Unless… I stop dead in my tracks two steps from the wash room. “What are you doing?”
“Just come with me.”
“No!” Adam pulls at my elbow and I pull back. “If you think I’m going in there with you, you are insane. We have a whole house to do this in.” After Adam’s threat of talking to me about ‘us’, I’ve been avoiding him like one would a friend you owed money to. Not that it’s been difficult. I’ve been so busy this week at the office that not seeing Adam has been easy. What I don’t understand is why he wants to do it now? And here?
“I’m not doing it here,” I say with much vehemence.
He gives me a strange look and pulls at my elbow again. “Trust me, Alex. Just come with me.”
Trust me. Hah! Many a woman have fallen for that, but not me. No way, Jose. I do a quick inventory and come to the irrefutable conclusion that I’m not prepared for a physical interlude. The last time my body saw a razor blade or a waxing strip was after my trip to “Heaven” ten days ago, I’ve run out of clean underwear and am wearing my oldest (and most comfortable) bra and a panty that is more befitting an old age pensioner and not a hot babe like me. I know that I’m in serious need of grooming and having spent the night in the office doesn’t help my body image right now.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t trust me?” He sounds incredulous and pulls at my arm again. I forcefully pluck my elbow out of his hand and nearly knock my own wind out.
“It’s not that I can’t trust you. I’m just not ready for… for this.” I flap my hand around, hoping that he will get the meaning without me having to draw pictures or spell it out for him. I mean, even my toenail polish is chipped, for Pete’s sake! And what about protection? Does he keep condoms in his wash room? If so, what kind of man is he? Oh dear, what’s happening?
“Alex, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you, me, us, the wash room. If you think that I’m going to do it in your little wash room, you must be smoked. I mean, really, Adam. I thought you knew me better than that.” The left corner of Adam’s mouth is the window to his soul. Many times I’ve seen him put a veil over his eyes to not reveal his thoughts, but the corner of his mouth always gives him away. I watch that corner change as he works through this situation in his mind. First the corner pulls a bit down with disapproval, then it gives one little quiver as a thought hits him and finally there is that little quiver that indicates I did or said something of high entertainment value and he doesn’t know how to react to it.
“What exactly do you think I have in mind?” The quiver is still there.
“Well…um… you know.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me.” He wants me to say it? Is he the kinky kind of guy who insists on me shouting his name over and over or calling him ‘daddy”?
“Doing it, you know.” My heart has sunk to the bottom of my shoes and is now dripping through the stitching onto the floor. Both of Adam’s mouth corners are quivering now and I can hear the laughter in his voice.
“You think that I want to have sex with you in my office?”
“Um, yes.” Isn’t that what this is? Coming into my office and so masterfully commanding me into his office and then directly leading me to the wash room.
“Oh Alex.” Adam gives a half laugh. “If you would come with me, I will show you why I’m not going to make love to you today.” He takes my hand and pulls me after him into the wash room and then past him in front of the mirror. “Look at yourself.”
I look in the mirror, but can only see Adam behind me. Man, is he ever a sight for sore eyes. All fresh and suited and gorgeous. He lifts his eyebrows at me and I force my eyes down and to the left until I see my own reflection.
“Oh my god!”
“Yes.”
The sight that greets my eyes is not a pretty one. Remember me feeling like the second week of a garbage strike? Well, I almost look like one too. It is an all encompassing look, from the coffee stain on my white shirt, the wrinkled skirt to the red eyes. My make-up must have absconded late yesterday afternoon, but my new long lasting, waterproof mascara has had a longer life and is now below my eyes creating a panda look. It is a pale, tired face that looks back at me in the mirror.
I’m the antidote to desire.
“You are going to go home now and rest. I don’t want to see you in this office until Monday morning. Understood?”
“I can’t. There is too much to do before the weekend. We have exactly seven days before this festival and there is just too much to do.” There isn’t really that much left to do, but I still have the need to put up some sort of fight against Adam ordering me to go home. On the other hand, I really am exhausted and having just looked at myself in the mirror, I am also rather disheartened.
“No arguments, Alex. You are going home.”
“I’ll have to tell Ray what to do.”
“I’m sure he knows.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.”
“You’re not going back into your office.”
“I am.” I narrow my panda-eyes and give Adam a look that I hoped he would not argue with. He is still standing behind me in the small wash room and we’re having a stare-down in the mirror. He sighs – as he does so often around me – and shakes his head.
“You have fifteen minutes. If you are not out of this building by then, I will have security escorting you out.”
My grandmother would be deeply disappointed in me. I have put up no decent fight and am already thinking about my comfortable bed waiting for me.
“Deal.”
I get back in my office to find Ray waiting for me with a to do list.
“What’s this then?”
“I’ve written everything down, in order of priority, of things that needs to be done before the end of the day.” Of course he did that. Who wouldn’t? I groan and take the offered paper from Ray. To my deli
ght, surprise and annoyance, I find that Ray had listed everything I thought of and a few extra things I hadn’t thought of. His order of priority makes more sense that the one in my head, which is why it is annoying, but I comfort myself with the fact that it is fatigue that is causing this little lapse. And after all, Ray is so organised, I’m sure he folds his underwear like origami, so leaving him with a few arrangements is no biggie.
“This is perfect. Thank you, Ray.”
“Go home now.”
“Excuse me?” I’m surprised at the tone of his voice. It is not the usual bantering, teasing tone. He is serious.
“I’m the one who told Adam to get you out of here. I can’t work in the same office with someone who looks like…like…that.” The last word carried the image of unforgivable sins and I smile weakly. Ray turns back to his desk and gives me a gentle smile. “Leave, scoot, go! I have everything under control here”
I drag my tired body to the car park and feel like crying. For no reason. Having been sent home had me acknowledge how tired I really am and it is now at that place where one becomes emotional about any and everything. I get to Adam’s sedan, that still has the sad tear in its side, and give a little hiccough of a cry-laugh. Al promised to have my car ready this weekend and then he’ll fix Adam’s car. And everybody still believes that I’m responsible.
On my way home I think of what Adam told me in his little wash room. And then something struck me. He said that he wasn’t going to do it with me ‘today’. What did that mean? Is he planning on doing it at another time? And he said ‘make love’ not ‘save sex’, ‘nail’, ‘boink’ or any other more erotic phrase. Make love. Oh, bugger this. I’m just too tired to be thinking about it right now.
The bliss. It’s Saturday morning and I slept for fifteen hours non-stop. I did wake up once when Blossom bounced into the room, but didn’t notice anything other than the large wet spot on my pillow where I had been drooling for hours. I turned the pillow around and tried not to think of exactly how gross that was and just went back to sleep. I now have my feet dangling in the pool and a cup of coffee in my hand. Absolute bliss.