by Kat T. Masen
I toss and turn, barely getting any sleep. At four in the morning, I give up, placing on my workout gear and runners, off for an early morning run, then a session at the gym.
When I get home, I shower, tidy the house making it as presentable as I can for the open house. I know it isn’t to Presley’s standards, but it has to do. With a freshly brewed coffee, I take a cup into the room along with two Advils and sit at the edge of the bed.
“Presley, wake up.”
She stirs, groaning as she turns to lay on her back. Her curly hair is a wild mess, splayed out all over the pillow.
“Presley, the realtor will be here in an hour. You need to get out of bed.”
The corner of her eye half opens, the other following with much difficulty. As she begins to sit up, clutching onto her forehead while cringing, I hand her the coffee.
“The house,” she strains. “I have to get up and clean…”
“All done.”
Her shoulders slump while she stares silently at the coffee.
“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” I ask, unable to control myself. Surely, she has to believe her behavior is not fucking okay despite the circumstances.
“There’s nothing to talk about. We went to Melrose, had a few drinks, and chatted about college.”
“A few drinks?” I exhale, surprised by her delusion. “You were beyond wasted. So badly, you couldn’t even answer my calls or texts. Unless, of course, you were ignoring me.”
“I didn’t hear my phone, okay? And so… I had a few drinks. Big deal. It’s not like you don’t go drinking with Noah when you’re away from work and God knows what else you get up to.”
I drag my hands through my hair repeatedly, trying to control my mounting frustration toward her. “So, this is all my fault now? You know I’d never do anything to jeopardize our marriage. I fucking love you. So why is this all of a sudden an issue that I go out with Noah?”
“Because it’s a double standard. I want to go out, too. I don’t want to be cooped up here every night being your slave.”
I hop off the bed, standing with my arms folded. I’ve just spent two hours tidying the house, so she could sleep in after her wild night now only for her to repay me by criticizing my every move. Fuck this.
“You know what? If I have a choice between you and my friends, I always choose you. Those work trips shouldn’t matter since you’re at home.”
“Exactly. I’m at home being the good little housewife, being the mother while you go do your thing.”
I throw my hands in the air, pacing the small area in our room with a scrunched-up face only to release to regain some calm. “What is this, Presley. What do you want?”
“I want…” she pauses. “I want to shower.”
She climbs out of bed, and before she walks away, I grab her arm, stopping her movement. “I’m sorry, okay? For whatever it is I’m doing wrong. You can talk to me.”
With her stare planted on the floor, I sense her body stiffen at my touch. Her cold stance begins to eat away at me, exposing the vulnerable side only she can ever see. Our relationship begins to feel compromised, though alone, I try to ignore the sinking feeling that this is just the beginning.
That the woman, I love, is slowly pulling away from me.
#BITCH
“I don’t want to drink the yucky milk.”
Speaking through my teeth with forced restraint, I warn Masen to drink his milk or else he won’t be allowed to take his favorite dinosaur to pre-school. The threat is not enough for him to want to budge, and with a tantrum involving his cup on the floor, I send him to his room before I lose my temper.
With a cloth in hand, I get down on my hands and knees with difficulty, careful not to tear a rip in my pantyhose. We’re already running late, and this sulky mood had just made us later.
Haden, of course, left for work early, bypassing the chaos which is what he does best.
After a rocky start to the morning which included another meltdown from Masen at pre-school, I have the pleasure of sitting on the freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic making me even later. I decide to call Sandy, knowing she will be at the airport waiting to board her flight to LA for our afternoon monthly board meeting. Haden requested she fly back home and has scheduled flights back to LA when essential. She’s only been gone a week, yet I miss her presence in the office.
“Hey,” she greets, instantly calming me with her voice. “I’m about to board, but they decided to sit me next to this guy wearing a mask. Now I’ve got a complex.”
I laugh, beeping my horn at the moron in front of me trying to cut me off. “I’ll swap you for the morning I’ve had. It’s not even nine, and I’m exhausted.”
“Uh-oh… what happened?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Tantrum-riddled child and a jerk husband.”
“You need a drink.”
“Yes, and a magic carpet to whisk me away to Santorini.”
“Santorini? Cocktails and lying on the beach,” she says, dreamily. “Beats an overcrowded plane with germophobic passengers.”
“We could lay on the beach listening to Avril Lavigne.”
Sandy’s laughter barrels through the speaker. “You and your Avril Lavigne. I was more of the Nickelback girl back then.”
“I remember, we argued all the time about it. So back to Santorini…”
“I’m overdue for a holiday.”
“Well, that’s great. You go on your fancy holiday while I slum it out here.”
“You won’t be slumming it soon in your new big house,” she reminds me.
“Yeah, but it’s not the same as lying on the beach in a bikini.”
“I think they go topless in Santorini.”
I snort, turning the street and driving into our parking garage. “Well, that’s an added bonus for you, not so much for me.”
“Only if it’s you topless,” she trails off. “Oh, listen, I need to turn my phone off. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Yeah, okay. Bye.”
I hang up the phone, confused by her comment. Sandy has always had a wicked sense of humor, never one to conform to boundaries within a friendship. It’s just her being her, and I need to not dwell on it before I make her comment something awkward in my head.
One of my biggest pet peeves is anyone late to work, including myself. In the time I haven’t checked my emails, they piled up, and will now take up even more of my time.
Clint stands at my door, clearing his throat to prompt me to his presence. “Haden would like to see you.”
“Did his phone break? Or his legs, for that matter?” I mumble beneath my breath.
“I didn’t ask, I simply obey the master.”
I drum my fingers against the table at his overdramatic reference toward Haden. It’s never bothered me before, usually finding him rather comical. But lately, Clint gets on my nerves.
“Well, tell him I’m busy.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s my boss, and I have to follow orders.”
“No,” I remind him, sternly. “I’m your direct boss, and I’m telling you to tell him I’m busy.”
Clint slips his hands into his pant pockets, frowning. “Look, Pres, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to be piggy in the middle.”
“You’re not the piggy in the middle. You report to me, end of story, and I’m busy. So, tell him I’ll see him later when time permits.”
Clint leaves my office, not saying another word.
I expect Haden to storm into my office at any minute, but he doesn’t attempt to call me. It’s very unlike him, and so with curiosity, I take my mug and wander to the kitchen to grab a coffee. On the way back, I mosey past his office. It’s empty. Almost relieved I don’t have to face the wrath of his egotistical outburst, I decide to go speak to one of our junior editors to discuss something she’s working on when I stroll past Noah’s office. Haden is sitting inside,
his back facing me, and the two of them appear to be on a call. Noah’s eyes dart toward where I stand, then quickly back to Haden. He throws a pen at him, prompting Haden to turn around.
Haden’s eyes gaze at me yet quickly shift back onto Noah. Despite the tension between us, a simple stare can still make me weak in the knees. I can’t ignore how he makes me feel, yet I force myself to shut it down because it’s always me who ends up sacrificing more than I should, and a simple stare can’t erase the resentment I feel toward him.
Unsure whether or not I should interrupt since the two of them look suspicious, I decide it isn’t worth my energy. If it doesn’t involve me, I shouldn’t care. I retreat back to my office, sending Sandy a text.
Me: You landed yet? I can pick you up from Burbank. I need a break from the madness.
There’s no response, and I assume she’s still in the air. Thirty minutes later, I get a text.
Sandy: Just landed. Sweet, I’ll meet you at the taxi stand.
I grab my phone and purse, locking my computer before yelling out to Clint that I’m going to pick Sandy up from the airport. He waves his hand in the air, distracted by a document on his screen.
Making my way to the lobby, I press the button, waiting patiently before the doors open. Inside, I press basement before checking my phone. The doors begin to close only to stop abruptly with a hand. The same hand which had touched my body in ways no one else has.
Haden enters the lift, standing at the opposite side against the wall with his hands pressed firmly on the railing. Behind his glasses, his eyes bore into me, silent yet intimidating at the same time. “Were you going to tell me you were leaving during work hours?”
I quickly respond to Sandy’s text, telling her I might be ten minutes later than I anticipated. Haden isn’t one to let things slide so easily.
“Not really,” I deadpan. “You were busy with Noah. It would have been rude to interrupt, and I need to clear my head. A short drive to pick up a colleague is no big deal.”
Haden appears calm, but beneath the surface, he is seething. I can tell by the way he tightens his grip on the railing, his knuckles almost stark white, to how his lips draw back in a snarl.
“A car service would have sufficed. Or a cab,” he mutters. “Even a bus.”
“Perhaps you may think it’s okay to treat your employees that way. It might be why they loathe you and respect me.”
With a hard smile, he bows his head gazing at the floor before glancing up, trying to antagonize me again with his stare.
“Perhaps I’m not making myself clear.” He moves closer, almost pinning me against the wall. “I’m the boss. I make the decisions about what happens under my watch. Don’t forget that.”
The doors ping open to the basement, and with his body so close, the yearning I have for him is compromised by the need to slip into the car and get to the airport.
“You’re right, I forgot it’s all about you.” I push his arm out of the way and begin walking to the car, pressing my key to unlock the doors. The sound echoes in the parking lot. “But, hey, I guess, if I’m that bad of an employee, you could fire me. I’m sure there are other publishing houses desperate to get their hands on your wife.”
The smirk on his face disappears in a flash. I’ve struck a nerve. I have been head-hunted in the past from competitors Haden loathes. At a few book cons, they have even gone as far as to try and ask me out to dinner. If there’s any weakness Haden carries, me working for someone else is one of them.
Sitting in the car, I take a deep breath, adjusting the rearview mirror. My eyes lift to see behind me. He is no longer there.
Starting the engine, I slam my foot on the accelerator, hightailing my ass to the airport. I need to vent, and Sandy always knows what to say, especially when it comes to Haden.
After she hops into the car, I let out a frustrated groan.
“He’s a goddamn jerk. Seriously, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I can’t make him happy, no matter what I do.”
“Elvis, slow down.” The sentiment, again, makes me laugh inside, instantly calming me. “You’re doing way over the speed limit, and unless you’re pulling a Thelma and Louise, I’m not sure I’m ready to go to jail.”
I slow my acceleration. The last thing I need is a speeding ticket.
“Look, you don’t need to convince me. Sorry, I know he’s your husband, but he’s really been on my tail this week.”
“What do you mean he’s been on your tail? You report directly to me, not him. Why is he getting involved? He doesn’t care about the editorial side of the business.”
“You know what? Never mind.”
I can see whatever has happened, it bothers her, and I hate seeing her upset over something my jerk of a husband has done. I am not going to let this one slide, probing her until she fesses up.
“No, no, never mind. We were friends long before he stepped into the picture. Ignore that he is my husband and tell me what he said to you.”
“He mentioned Indie Press was bleeding money, and he was reviewing things.”
“What things?”
“Jobs…”
“Who?”
She doesn’t say a word, looking directly out the window.
“He said that to you?” I gasp, shocked and equally furious by his disregard for my opinion. “He said your job was on the line?”
The nerve of the man. Anger pours throughout me as I try to navigate through the traffic. I’m beyond fuming he would discuss this with her before me. He demands I manage the non-financials of Indie Press, that includes the staff.
“Look, I’ve told you this in confidence. Please don’t say anything.”
“How can I not say anything? You don’t deserve this.”
“Because it will just make this tenser between the two of you. I don’t want to be the reason you’re fighting.”
“Oh, honey, trust me, that man has a history of being an asshole.” I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “I promise I won’t say anything. If it helps, I’ve been punishing him by not sleeping with him. I’ll continue that until he learns his lesson.”
Sandy shifts in her chair with a flat look, narrowing her eyes. “How long has it been?”
“Gosh, I don’t know, to be honest. The longest ever in our marriage. Maybe, since you’ve been around?”
I stare directly at the car ahead of me. A few times, Haden’s tried to touch me, but I retracted. I made up excuses, anything to push him away. He didn’t press further or argue when I did. I wasn’t ready. I find myself staring into the mirror before my showers, tearing my body apart since my weight gain. The pregnancy, though only lasting weeks, affected my body more than I thought it would. I don’t crave sex or even think about.
What I do acknowledge is that sex led to pregnancy.
And the last thing I want is to relive that nightmare all over again.
Sandy’s mouth curves upward into a grin, and to ease my anger, she places her hand on my thigh. “Let’s not talk about this. We still have to face him in the meeting.”
Our monthly management team consists of heads from all departments. On average, the meeting usually lasts anywhere between three to four hours by the time we get through all the minutes.
Food is served, copious amounts of coffee, and by the time the meeting ends, I usually have doubled my workload and walk out with a throbbing headache.
We are seated around the large boardroom table, and unfortunately, I have to show a brave face and sit beside Haden like I always do. Across the table, Noah gazes at me curiously, and I smile as Haden loiters just outside the room on a call.
Noah leans forward as others talk amongst themselves. “You okay?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
“Yes, why would you ask?”
He purses his lips. “Haden is on the warpath.”
“Oh, well… his doing.”
“C’mon, Pres, cut the guy some slack. He’s got a lot on his plate.”
Our conversation
is cut short as we both pull back when Haden walks in.
When it comes to demanding attention, Haden always commands the room. Some people are intimidated by him, others, like Noah, just listen. Then, there’s me, the wife, the ultimate bearer of his egocentric ways.
Haden takes a seat without a greeting or hello, jumping straight into the minutes from the last meeting.
Each department has their turn presenting their current and upcoming projects, forecasts for the rest of the year, and then any miscellaneous topics which need discussing. The format is pretty simple, yet I prepared Sandy for her turn and the main topics she needs to focus on regarding Indie Press.
Haden sits quietly for the beginning, only to interrupt mid-way as Sandy brings up forecasts.
“John, what do you think? Our figures aren’t in the black just yet,” Haden interrupts.
John, our finance manager, runs his pen along the paper in his hand, only to sit back into his chair and release a breath. “We need some serious cost-cutting. The rent alone is double what we pay here.”
Sandy interjects, “Look, I know what you’re getting at. We have a prime location, and you’d be lucky to find something of that size in the Bay Area for that price. But, if you feel you can find something cheaper, by all means, go ahead.”
“And headcount, John?”
Haden purposely ignores Sandy’s presence, shifting his body to focus on John.
John shakes his head, removing his glasses. “We just can’t continue to swing these numbers. We need a mass reduction.”
I can see the fury in Sandy’s eyes as John continues to speak. Haden is a dickhead for getting John to do his dirty work. This isn’t about numbers this is about being a greedy asshole. More money in the bank, but at what cost? If we lay off staff, the ones we have left will be pushed beyond their means. Productivity and quality will suffer.
Sandy clutches her fist which sits on her thighs. I move my hand under the table and rest it on top to calm her down. When I look up, Haden’s eyes are boring into me, smoldering with resentment. I don’t understand why he has a vendetta against Sandy. She’s done nothing but work hard for him.