"You didn't make dinner again last night. Should I start eating out every night after work?" He asks blandly.
"No. I'll cook tonight. I was just not well last night, if you remember.”
Shaking his head, he enters his walk-in closet and huffs. "Did you pick up my dry-cleaning yesterday?"
Is he for real? Seriously? I was sick. Did he forget he almost walked into me on the floor?
"No, Marcus. As you may remember, I was unwell yesterday... you know, when you found me on the floor. So, no, I didn't pick up your dry-cleaning. I forgot. I'll try to get it after work tonight."
Ignoring me completely he continues, "Oh, Kayla called. You don't have to go into work today or tomorrow. A nice little vacation, huh? Anyway, your boss has worked it out so your emails are forwarded to your iPhone. He says 'rest up'. What does that mean? All you've been doing is sleeping and resting," he scoffs at me.
I'm supposed to stay home? Who will do my work? Who will prepare the expense reports? Who will organize the check run for Monday? WHO?! I'm going to throw-up, I think.
"Sorry Marcus. I'll be fine today, and I'll cook you a nice meal. What time will you be home?" I ask gently, fighting the nausea. Maybe he's not mad at me anymore?
"I don't know. Don't wait up though. If you don't want to cook dinner, don't worry about it. I'll just grab something later." He huffs again.
Okay, so he's still mad at me, AND he’s passive-aggressive... Awesome!
"It's fine Marcus. I want to cook. I’ll see you later." Rising to give him his kiss on the cheek which he likes, Marcus turns to me, shakes his head, and scowls like I'm hideous.
Wow. I'm stopped cold. His look is so, like, mean or something. Where is nice Marcus? What have I done? Shit.
After checking over my face in the bathroom, I'm relieved that my eyes are less swollen, but my lips are still cracked, bleeding and sore. What the hell happened yesterday?
==========
Downstairs, I grab some coffee and my purse and head to my sunroom. Dumping my purse, I grab my iPhone and count 19 emails. 4 texts. 8 missed calls.
Scrolling through the missed calls, I see 5 from Kayla, 1 from my mother, and 2 are from the 212 area code... New York? Really? He wouldn't call, would he? I'll get back to those...
All 4 texts are from Kayla. Jeez... She tenacious, isn't she?
Over to email:
- An amendment from Mr. Close on his expense report. Of course.
- Another attachment from Heinrick. It Figures.
- Mr. Berber finally submitted his... Yes! Now I have everyone's, but Mr. Craig/Mr. Zinfandel's. I can start calculating probable’s.
- 6 emails from Kayla. Jeez, is she tenacious, or psychotic?
- 2 from Mr. Shields. Shit.
- 1 from the Marriot. Good.
- 1 from the Detroit office. What now?
- And 6 from Mr. Zinfandel. 6? Holy shit!
Okay, onto Mr. Zinfandel. I feel a nervous knot in my stomach, but I’m a little excited too. I wonder if he's going to bully me like he did earlier yesterday.
_______________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Expense Report
Wednesday, May, 25
2:12pm
Hello Sweetheart,
I still haven't heard from you regarding Mr. Craig's expenses.
Are you ignoring me?
Z
________________________________
________________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Expense Report… AGAIN
Wednesday, May, 25
2:49pm
Sweetheart,
You really need to reply to me. I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning. If I contact you, you are to respond in a timely manner.
Z
P.S. I cannot stop looking at your company profile pictures. You really are quite beautiful. Do you ever wear your hair down?
_______________________________
_______________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Where are you?
Wednesday, May, 25
4:03pm
Sweetheart,
I finally had no option but to call your Receptionist, and she kindly informed me that no one seems to know where you are.
Though I do not approve of her lack of discretion, I’m glad she told me. Are you alright?
Please contact me soon so I no longer worry.
Here’s my private number 212) 521-7511
Z
_______________________________
_______________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: ARE YOU OKAY?!
Wednesday, May, 25
6:09pm
Dammit! Are you okay?!
Sweetheart, please call me soon.
Again, though I am not impressed with the lack of discretion in your office, Sam Shields has informed me that there was some kind of incident with you this afternoon.
What happened? Sam said you looked much abused, but wouldn't elaborate.
Shall I fly to Chicago to check on you myself?
Call or email me soon.
212) 521-7511
Z
________________________________
________________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: ARE YOU OKAY??!!
Wednesday, May, 25
10:13pm
Sweetheart,
I have spoken with your friend Kayla, and she is very concerned.
Apparently, you looked like a rape victim this afternoon.
Is that the case? Please tell me.
I would like to help you.
Kayla also informed me that your ‘charming’ husband doesn't think it's true, nor does he care to ‘get into it with you’.
Kayla has stated that she may yet drive to your home, and punch your husband on his ass for being such 'A Fuckin Prick!', as she called him.
I find myself of the mindset to do the same.
.
Please let me know how you are.
Please let me help you.
I have a flight scheduled tomorrow morning for Chicago.
I should be landing around 8:30am.
I sincerely hope you are well.
Yours, Z
________________________________
Oh. My. God!! What the hell? Why is he coming here? He can't come here. He can't! I've spoken to this man twice on the phone. What the hell is he doing?
________________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: What’s going on?
Thursday, May, 26
8:52am
Sweetheart,
I have just landed and I'm on my way to your office.
I am displeased to find you still have not contacted me.
Why is that?
Once I arrive, I’ll try to track you down further.
I hope you are well, but your silence seems to confirm otherwise.
Yours,
Z
212) 521-7511
________________________________
‘Displeased’? I was sleeping. It’s not my fault I didn’t respond sooner. God, he sounds like my father... Ugh.
Looking at the word displeased, my mind starts reeling. I hate that word. I hate many words. Isn't that strange? I actually hate a word because of what it means to me.
Oh my god. The whole office is talking about me. What the hell do I do now? I can’t go back to work. I’m going to have to quit. I can’t work with people who think I’m a drama-queen, or like an idiot who looks all screwed up in the middle of the afternoon. What if they think I was attacked or something? What if they think I was an assault victim? I told them I wasn’t, but will they actually believe me? Oh, this is just great! Now I’m the office idiot. I may as well return. What’s the worst that can happen? Everyone ignore me? Yeah, like I’m not used to being ignored.
> Sipping my coffee, I rise for another, but suddenly my cell starts ringing. What do I do? 212 area code. Shit. Grabbing for it, I answer.
"Good morning, this is... " but once again I’m cut off.
"Well, if it isn't the little lost one. I've been trying to reach you since yesterday. Did you receive any of my messages?"
"Um. Yes. But only 5 minutes ago! I fell asleep without my phone around, and I wasn't in the office to answer your emails or phone calls yesterday afternoon. I'm very sorry Mr. Zinfandel," I sigh. God, I spent my entire life apologizing to everyone.
"That's quite alright. I understand. You did leave me quite worried however... Are you okay? Can I help you in any way? And please, call me Z."
"No, thank you. I'm fine. Nothing happened yesterday. Nothing at all. I fell asleep in my car, that's it. I lied to my Receptionist about an appointment because I didn't want anyone to know I merely fell asleep in my car over lunch..."
I am so embarrassed by my confession; I'm surprised he can't feel the heat of my blush through the phone.
"Fell asleep? Please don’t lie to me Sweetheart. I will NOT be lied to!" Mr. Zinfandel barks through the phone.
"I- I’m not lying. Honestly. I don't know why I looked like a raaa- ah, an assault victim when I woke up in my car, but that's the truth. I told Kayla, and now you the truth. I don't lie Mr. Zinfandel, though I did lie twice yesterday... I…"
"Z!" He demands.
"Okay... Z. I was not attacked yesterday, but I'm very tired and I have tons of work to catch up on because this week has been kind of bizarre for me. So, if you wouldn't mind, can I please go now, and get back to my work?" I ask timidly.
"Yes. I'll let you go. I’ll be speaking to Sam and your friend Kayla today however, so I suggest you answer my calls and reply to my emails. Understood?" He asks.
"Okay, Mr... Z, I mean. I'll be at home all day working."
Hanging up, I immediately call Kayla.
"Where are you? Are you at home?" She asks.
"Yes, I'm at home. Everything’s fine. I'm really embarrassed about yesterday, but I swear nothing happened. Nothing! I honestly fell asleep in my car after I bought a pair of shoes at the mall. Kayla, I know it sounds weird, but it's the truth. I promise." My voice has started to quiver.
Could this be any more embarrassing? First Mr. Zinfandel, now Kayla. Oh, they’re going to meet today. Great.
Before she can reply, I beg, "Kayla, Mr. Zinfandel is in Chicago this morning and he’s going to see you soon at the office. Could you please assure him that I’m fine? Please? I don't think I can handle any more embarrassment this week. I'm not sure why he came here, but he’s really quite pushy, and I feel pretty uncomfortable talking to him. Would you mind buffering a little? Please...?"
"Yeah, I could tell Z was a little intense last night, when he brow beat Claire into giving up my home number. He seems pretty... intrigued by you. It's weird, it's like he has known you forever. Didn't you just talk over the phone for the first time on Tuesday, when I, ah, intervened?"
"Yes. I've only spoken to him 3 or 4 times. 3, I think, on the phone. Plus a couple emails. He’s kind of... intense, Kayla. But, please don't tell him I said that... It's very unprofessional of me." Could I make this any worse? What the hell is wrong with me?
"No problem, Sweetie. I won't say anything. Uh, how are you though? Seriously? I mean, I believe you weren't attacked, because you say you weren't, but you still haven't explained what happened."
What the hell do I say? Kayla will know if I lie. What did happen? I have no idea.
"This will sound strange, but I have absolutely NO idea. I was shopping, then in my car, then asleep, and then rushing to get back to work. It must have been a bad dream or something. I don't know. I know I sound crazy, Kayla, or like I'm looking for attention, but I'm not. I just honestly don't know what happened."
"Okay. Well, I'm glad you weren't attacked yesterday because I've got to be honest... you looked really bad. But still, maybe you should go to a doctor or talk to a shrink or something. I swear Sweetie; I have never seen anyone look worse than you did yesterday, and..."
Cutting her off, I can't stand to listen anymore. "I know, Kayla. I'm really sorry. I hope you aren't mad at me for snapping at you... I'm really sorry."
"Fuck! Don't apologize. Just don't do it again. You scared the shit out of me yesterday, that’s all." Don't apologize? Yeah, o-kay. Then who would I be? I would be no one.
"Sweetie. Are you still there?"
"Yes. I'm here. I'll be working all day from home, so just call my cell if I should know anything. And thank you, Kayla. You’ve been a real nice person to me..." I mumble, embarrassed.
"A nice person, huh? Sweetie, I'm your friend, okay? If you need to talk today, call or email me. I really should go though. I have to give Big Daddy Shields the Buyers reports in about 20 minutes. Get some work done, but don't push yourself too hard. Okay?"
"Yes, alright. Thank you again Kayla."
Hanging up, I feel kind of freaked out again. A ‘friend’? Kayla thinks she’s my friend. I would love to have a 'friend' like Kayla. She is beautiful, and strong, and confident, and awesome, and tall. Actually, I don't want a friend like Kayla... I want to BE Kayla.
==========
Shortly after noon, I finish with 4 expense report summaries. When my stomach growls, I realize I haven't eaten in close to two days. Wow. That's bad... though maybe good for my 'big thighs and butt'.
After some tomato soup and crackers, I'm ready to finish a few more summary reports. Checking my iPhone for any messages I see an email from Mr. Zinfandel.
Ugh. I really don’t want to do this anymore. I mean, he’s a nice man for showing me concern, but really, what’s the point of his concern?
________________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Yesterday?
Thursday, May 26
12:25pm
Sweetheart,
It appears you have caused quite a stir around your office.
(Oh, god. No! My stomach suddenly cramps. I'm going to throw-up the soup.)
Gossip has it that you were attacked yesterday afternoon, you told everyone ‘nothing happened’ and I’ve learned everyone who saw you believes otherwise. I do hope you didn’t lie to me, Sweetheart.
Where is your husband? Is he with you today? Is he caring for your needs?
(Ah, Marcus? Why would he be with me at home? Why would I want him here with me at home? Why would I want him, period? Ooops. That was bad. He’s a very nice man and he loves me.)
I have made all the appropriate introductions, and I had the pleasure of an early lunch with your friend Kayla. She is quite a brazen, yet charming young woman.
(I bet she is! I hate Kayla. No. I don't. Kinda? God, I really am awful sometimes.)
I'm pleased you two are friends. Having someone like Kayla in your corner is good for keeping all the sharks away from you.
So, is it true that I make you ‘uncomfortable’ with my concern for your well-being?
(I hate Kayla. She is such a bitch. I knew I couldn't trust her! I can't trust anyone!)
I'm sorry to hear that. It appears you are going to have to learn to become comfortable with my concern. I won’t have it any other way.
I would like you to know that I am disappointed in you, however. I expected at the very least an email by now, telling me how you’re doing today. But, I still have not heard.
Please note that I DO expect a reply from this email, very soon.
I sincerely hope you are well.
Yours,
Z
________________________________
What the hell is that? A threat? What's he going to do if I don't reply? Come over here? What can he really do?
Sitting for a few minutes, I contemplate my response.
________________________________
Reply
Subject: Yesterday?
Thursday, May 26
12:58pm<
br />
Mr. Zinfandel,
I DO appreciate your concern. However, there is no concern needed.
I am fine, as I have told you, Kayla, and everyone else who has asked.
(No one else has asked, not even Marcus.)
I have worked steadily this morning, and I have made up most of the ground I lost in the last 2 days.
Please understand this has been a very strange week for me, and not at all the norm. I do not live with this kind of drama in my life, at all, ever.
I am a very competent employee, and I look forward to proving to you that your concern, though thoughtful, is highly misplaced.
Enjoy your stay in Chicago.
With kindest regards...
________________________________
Sweetheart? Ahhh, NO. Not a chance. I am not his sweetheart. I am no one’s sweetheart. I am no one’s... anything. I just kind of... am.
Before I have even pulled up the latest spread-sheet, there’s a reply.
________________________________
From: Z. Zinfandel
Subject: Today
Thursday, May 26
1:14pm
Sweetheart,
I must insist that you call me 'Z'.
Where is your husband? I didn't read a reply to my question regarding him.
Yours, with much concern,
Z
________________________________
What the hell do I say now? He said I must always reply.
________________________________
Reply
Subject: Today
Thursday, May 26
1:18pm
Z,
My husband is at work, where I prefer him.
I’m fine, but I really must finish my reports.
I do hope you enjoy Chicago while you visit.
________________________________