His & Hers

by Francheska Fifield

  “Shall we socialize now?”

  He sighs when I ask, but puts my arm through his and plasters on his poker face. Oh boy, the scariest face ever. He takes us towards a couple standing alone for the moment.

  “William it’s so good to see you here.”

  “Mary, Howard, it’s good to see you to.”

  He doesn’t sound like it is good to see them. He is stiff as a board.

  “This is Trisha.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Trisha.”

  They don’t sound pleased either. Who the hell are these people? Doesn’t matter I will not stoop to hidden hostility. I will be charming…well polite at least.

  “The pleasure is all mine.”

  They smile, but it is more of a predatory expression than welcoming. I try not to flinch and I think I manage it admirably.

  “William might we have a word alone with you.”

  “Not right now. Excuse us.”

  He practically drags me away. I am as graceful as possible given the circumstances.

  “Will that was rude.”

  “And they are the one group of people I don’t care how rude I am to.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t do business with them.”

  “Will that doesn’t mean we can be rude. Come on we have to apologize.”

  He looks at me in shock, puts a determined look on his face, and forces me to walk farther away.

  “Trish don’t take this offensively, but you couldn’t pay me to go back and talk to them.”

  Okay note to self, Will can be incredibly stubborn when annoyed.

  “Okay. Who is that coming towards us?”

  He growls and tenses even more…any tighter and he will snap.

  “The other person I don’t care to ever see.”

  “William it’s been simply too long.”

  She takes his hand and starts to raise it to her face. He pulls it back as she fights to hold on. Her lips snake into a smile and she pouts.

  “Or not long enough. Depends on whose point of view you are looking from.”

  “You are as funny as ever William.”

  Who is this harpy and why does she think he is being funny? I can see he is annoyed and angry. A blind man can see it.

  One hand is on my arm, ready to pull me away again and it is getting tighter and tighter until I can’t help but flinch. He looks down noticing his grip and lets go of my arm, but puts it through his and hurries us off again.

  “Is there a reason we are running from everyone if you are here to socialize?”

  “None of the people we have run from do business with me.”

  “So that makes it okay to be rude?”

  He stops and looks at me curiously.

  “You’re generally a polite person aren’t you? I never thought of it before. When Tommy and Steve flirted with you at first you weren’t polite.”

  “Well they were being dumb heads. They didn’t even know me and were flirting. That’s just sexist.”

  “Well I can promise you all of the people I have been rude to have done worse than flirt with me before knowing anything about me.”

  “Okay. Still, in front of other clients you should keep a calm head. You don’t want them to think you are unprofessional just because you don’t like someone. Then everyone will call you difficult to work with and you will lose a lot of business. Most deals are made behind closed doors and at gatherings such as this.”

  “I thought you came from a simple poor family.”

  I laugh and try to hold back a shrug, it’s not ladylike.

  “I do, but I’m not an idiot. I’m a history buff and I doubt our interactions now are much different than rich people throughout history. Besides, you want drama and intrigue? Try surviving high school as a girl. The girl that is your best friend ends up sleeping with your boyfriend behind your back and when you find out he cheated, she calls the girl a bitch and promises to help you hunt the whore down, and all the while making sure you don’t know it’s her. That’s way worse than business.”

  I can see he is trying to hold back a smile, so as not to offend me if I am serious. I am, but it also serves its purpose. To allow him to lighten up and relax before he snaps like a piano wire.

  “See now there’s the Will we all know and love. Now that you are feeling normal again how about we go dance some more? I could always use more practice. I want to sign us up for the contest at the end of the year.” Not that I really love him as more than a friend anyway.

  “I guess we could dance a bit more. Just to put in an appearance.”

  I pat his cheek and take his arm.

  “There’s a brave little soldier. Let’s go.”

  After dancing a while longer Will is in a much better mood and excuses himself to go to the men’s room. I wander over and sit at the bar, but only have water. No way do I want to get plastered and embarrass myself here.

  “Trisha wasn’t it?” I turn and see Mary from earlier. I get off the bar stool and smile.

  “Yes. Mary right?”

  She smiles and nods. So far so good.

  “So you are William’s date. Tell me what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a novelist.”

  “Oh. What do you write?”

  “A little bit of everything in the fiction category.”

  Her smile thins. Is that disapproval? Who cares what this uppity wench thinks? Will certainly doesn’t seem to.

  “Well William may enjoy slumming with you for now, but a relationship simply won’t happen.”

  Really?! Oh my God who does she think she is?

  “Ma’am, perhaps you have the wrong impression about us…”

  “Oh, I know my son. He brought you here, a lowly kind of girl, to parade in front of us to point out how he is still determined to do everything the exact opposite of what we will approve of. You seem polite, but you can’t give him the type of money, prestige, and good breeding that a marriage to Marabelle would bring.”

  Their son…okay, Will has some explaining to do.

  “Who is Marabelle?”

  “The beautiful blonde that you met earlier.”

  Pink dress, big bust, snake of a smile but the looks of a model. Will has a LOT of explaining to do.

  “Oh. They dated?”

  “They were engaged until he found out how much we liked her and then he broke it off. All because of this stupid feud over his college major.”

  Oh Will, you left quite few details out of your life story. I can’t believe he led me to this slaughter without warning me what I was jumping into.

  “Ma’am, I am not involved with your son in that way.”

  “You may think not, but he is after just that. He is after you to get back at us. Once we fail to react that will be all and he will move on.”

  “I work for him. I’m his live in housekeeper and cook. He asked me to come tonight so he wouldn’t be alone.”

  “So he pays you for what he gets from you.”

  I am so angry I am on the verge of tears. I don’t respond, just walk out. Fuck being polite. She just called me a prostitute without actually saying the word. I am done with this. I have a sudden urge for my cell phone. Bobbi was right, I should have brought it.

  “Trisha is something wrong?” Will says as he comes out of a bathroom and grabbing my arm as I walk by him. I slap him and he reels back in shock. I tug my arm free and run out of the house as fast as I can. How dare he?

  I am walking down the road when Will drives up and slows down. He rolls the window down on the passenger side and alternates looking at me and the road.

  “Trisha get in the car. It’s a long walk back and it’s dark. Please. Something could happen to you. You shouldn’t be walking. Just get in. You don’t have to talk to me and I will take us straight home I promise.”

  The guys are at the house waiting for us to come back. That’s good, they can run interference. Keep him busy and away from me for the night. I stop walking and
he stops the car. Can I really stand being in a car with him for the forty-five minute ride home? Well I don’t have much choice unless I want to walk and ruin my heels and my feet in the process. I get in the car, buckle up, and turned toward the window cutting off any discussion me might want to have.

  When we get back I shoot out I slam the car door quickly. I make my way inside, ignoring the compliments and slam my door behind me. Dead silence follows my exit, then the front door opens and closes. It is silent so I assume they have all gone outside to see what the hell is going on.

  I put my dress away and pull on my comfiest pajamas; I crawl into bed, turned off my light, and silently cry myself to sleep.

  The next day I don’t get up to make breakfast and I couldn’t care less if the house is a mess. I try getting my angst out by writing, but when I read the pages I have written I find I’ve killed everyone. That is definitely not what my editor wants and I delete the pages. Okay, writing is not the way to go.

  I dress in my jogging clothes and throw on headphones, makings sure the music is blaring before I leave the house. I don’t want to stop and talk to anyone. I walk out and all eyes turn to me. I ignore them and go right for the door, slamming it closed behind me.

  I turn on some angry music; my normal jogging music isn’t doing it for me, and take off. When I next look around I have been gone over an hour and I don’t recognize where I am. I pull out my headphones and start looking for a landmark. Where the hell have I ended up?

  Field, field, and more fields. Damn. Well back the way I came has to be toward home. I start heading back the way I came, hoping something will become familiar soon.

  Today is not my day or something because I hear a noise behind me and turn just as strange smelly man jumps me. Lucky for me I have a lot of rage. I fight back and manage to take the metal pipe he has in the arm instead of the head. I grab for it and smash him in the stomach. He goes down and I huff. Damn that hurt!

  I pull out my phone and call 911. Good thing there is service here, because I can’t leave him here. He is likely some drugged up nutso and I will not be responsible for him attacking someone else because I don’t turn him in. I can’t take that on top of everything.

  Two hours later the police drop me off at home after taking me to the hospital and being looked at by a doctor. Nothing is broken, luckily. The bozo was on drugs and hadn’t hit me as hard as he could’ve if he had not been doped. Still, I had a black eye, a swollen cheek, a bleeding lip, and everything is sore and bruised. Also, using my arm for the next few days is not going to be pretty, or so I the doctor told me, and I am not supposed to at all if possible. I had them fax a copy of my records to my editor, letting her know I will be out of commission for a few days. They sent me home with a written one to give to Will in case he asks too.

  I see everyone standing in the window as soon as we pull up. What are they all still doing here? The door opens and Will comes out followed by everyone, including Bobbi.

  “What happened? We’ve been calling everyone trying to find you for hours!”

  “I wasn’t arrested if that’s what you think! I was mugged!”

  I rush past him and the others and go inside. I open the freezer and put the now warm ice pack in. I slam the doctor’s note on the counter with my good arm. My bad one is in a sling so I don’t use it and it can heal.

  I open a can of sprite and down half of it, hiccupping as the bubbles hit my stomach. Damn soda. This is why I rarely drink it. I don’t bother going to my room, I’d just be invaded by men when they are done talking to the cops. I sit on a bar stool and wait. When the door opens only Will comes in. What are they doing, surrounding the house so I can’t go out the back or a window? Didn’t they see the sling?

  “Trisha. I just want to talk. Please?”

  I nod, but keep my eyes on the hand holding my soda.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt. Last night and this morning. You shouldn’t have been running out alone with headphones on. You did it because you were mad. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

  I don’t blame him for this injury. It was bad luck. I had my headphones off at the time so it wasn’t that. Wrong place, wrong time. I blame him entirely for last night, though.

  “You didn’t warn me.”

  “I didn’t want you to know.”

  “Which part?! That we were going to a party with your parents that you don’t get along with or that your model ex was there?! An ex you failed to mention, ever!”

  “I told you about Marabelle.”

  “You told me you dated a girl in college, but it didn’t end up as anything serious! Engaged is serious Will!”

  “To you yes. My family arranged the whole thing. I had little to no say in it.”

  I squeeze the can. Really, that is what he going with? Talk about not taking responsibility for your actions.

  “They can’t make you marry someone! The world doesn’t work that way anymore!”

  “And as soon as I figured that out I dumped her, finished college, moved away, and started my own company. I started living life on my own terms.”

  “You still could have warned me! We all have pasts Will!”

  “Yes, but you have nothing to be ashamed of with yours.”

  I flinch. I have plenty to be ashamed of. I make stupid decisions all the time. My Marriage and divorce are exhibit A and moving here is exhibit B. Deep breaths, talk like a rational person so the cops don’t hear screaming and come back in to see if I am being assaulted again.

  “That’s not true, but we aren’t talking about me. You shouldn’t be afraid to tell your friends the truth about yourself. I thought we were friends Will. Not just employee and employer.”

  “We are. I wouldn’t have taken you last night if you were just my maid. I wouldn’t get talked into those dance classes, or bailed you out of jail; I wouldn’t have let you boss me around about the meal times.”

  “You can say it all you want but last night…that’s not how you treat a friend Will. You left me alone with those harpies completely clueless to the dynamics going on.”

  Thinking about what she is saying makes me want to get up and head right back out the door. Arm in sling or not.

  “I didn’t think they would say something to you the second I was out of earshot or I wouldn’t have left you there alone.”

  “If I had known everything I could have defended myself.”

  “You did well anyway. You didn’t hit anyone and get arrested.”

  I stand and throw my half full soda can. “Is that what you really think I do every time I run into opposition? Well it’s not! I did that night because of a sexual assault! I don’t go around hitting people, even if they are arrogant asses!”

  “You hit me last night!”

  “You lied to me! You left me there to be treated like a hooker! Why wouldn’t I hit you? You treated me just as bad as that man in the bar! Or at least you made me feel the same as he did!”

  I walk by him to my room and slam the door behind me. I need to take it easy on the door or I won’t have one soon.

  Chapter Seven

  I go for almost a week without doing chores because the doctor told me not too and Will is trying everything to get back in my good graces.

  He mentions our dance class, which is a big mistake. He realizes that when I glare at him every time the word dance comes up.

  Meanwhile, I have Bobbi take me to the Y a lot. I can still use a treadmill and if my arm is going to get weak my legs are going to make up for it. I can’t do most yoga moves, but I do the ones not requiring your arms and sit the others out doing breathing techniques instead. It helps a bit, but I am still pissed at Will.

  He has flowers waiting for me, a different vase full every time I come back from the gym. First roses, then daisies, carnations, etc. I wonder if he is just looking up flowers and ordering them every day because there seems to be no pattern. After the fifth day of flowers I can’t take it anymore.

  I walk up to his office, but h
esitate when it comes to actually knocking. He has been spending most of his time in the office. He comes out for meals. He is quiet. It’s like the first week I was here, but more awkward.

  I knock, step back, and to sit on the couch. If he heard me he will come out. If not he won’t. The door opens and I sigh. He heard. Now what the hell do I say?

  “Is everything okay? Is something wrong?”

  “Everything is fine. Sort of. I guess.”

  He comes closer, but doesn’t sit down. He just stands there staring and waiting for me to speak, but now I don’t know what to say.

  “Sort of?”

  I sigh. Nothing feels right anymore. My arm is out of its sling, I am able to go back to everyday life now, and I have cleaned already. He doesn’t say anything if he notices at all.

  “Things just feel…” I can’t finish, I’m not sure exactly what it is.

  “Wrong.”

  I nod. Yeaha that pretty much hit the nail on the head.

  “I was going to say awkward.”

  “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I’ve tried…”

  Yeah he has, with vase after vase of flowers. The desk in my bedroom is covered and the kitchen counter is getting there.

  “Will, sending me a million flowers isn’t the answer.”

  “I don’t know what else to give you. I know you like flowers. You always bring some home from the store when you go out. And you stare at them and smell them when thinking.”

  He really does know my every move doesn’t he?

  “Yeah I know. They make me happy, but buying me things, even flowers, isn’t the answer.”

  “What is?”

  I have given it some thought, over the last week.

  “I think maybe I should move out.”

  He flinches and I feel like I kicked a puppy. Like I said before, no satisfaction. He sighs and grips the arm of the couch.

  “Do you really have to?”

  “I can still work for you. I will come make your meals and clean. Maybe I can throw in some other cleaning jobs to make me some extra money.”

  “You don’t have to leave.”

  “I know. I think it’s the right thing though.”