The Other C-Word (12 page)

He moved to the opposite side of the elevator again and sat down. “It’s okay, I deserved it. Seriously, though, I don’t want you to skip lunch anymore. If I’m giving you too much work, you need to communicate that to me. I mean it.”

I nodded, nibbling on the Zesty bar. It tasted like heaven to me.

“Sartre?” Rick asked in a low, serious tone, after a few minutes of silence.

I gaped at him, unsure if I’d heard correctly.

“You quoted Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Hell is other people’. Don’t worry, I don’t take offence—I was giving you hell after all.”

I had to admit it was a pretty awful thing to say to someone. Especially when that someone gave you a Zesty bar after you were so mean. “You’ve read
No Exit
?”

Rick nodded. “Yes, I took the prerequisite philosophy course in college. For the record, I think you’re very smart. You’re able to extrapolate data to make sound business decisions like no one I’ve ever seen. Besides that, how many girls can quote a French existentialist philosopher? Also, I don’t know if your hair colour is qualified as blonde, but I do think it’s beautiful. And, although you look good in anything, my day is a little brighter when you choose to wear a skirt. But trust me, Marley, I would never reward you for it.”

His words should have been uncomfortable for me. Instead, they only relaxed the tension in my body. It felt like his admission was the release of deep secret and confirmed all my speculations. “So, you
do
notice the skirts.”

“I have eyes, don’t I?”
Yes, glittering green orbs that exude sexuality.

I was shocked at how forthright he was being in that moment. The disguised innuendos and flirtatious advances were replaced with naked honesty. I wished I could be candid with him, but it wasn’t possible…not for me.

“Thank you for clearing that up.” I turned away from him, not sure what else to say. The air became heavier, permeated by our collective silence. Finally, I broke it. “I majored in philosophy.”

“I know.”

I looked at him perplexed. He smiled reassuringly as if he was accepting my change of subject.

“I read your résumé, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish with a degree in philosophy?” he asked curiously, without reproach.

I chuckled. “I was hoping to find the meaning of life, but instead I just found the meaning of debt. Sallie Mae and I have a very close relationship. She writes to me once a month.”

He laughed heartily, getting my joke about the nickname for the student loan agency. A joke, which no one else ever seemed to get. “Is that why you live at home?”

I tensed. It wasn’t a secret that I lived at home—I’m sure any number of people could have told him that—but I wondered how he had obtained the information.

“That’s none of your business.” I bit down on my lip. I hadn’t meant to sound so cold. I should have just nodded. The truth was, I paid my mother rent and paid my debts, but I could afford my own place.

“Marley, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that we’ll be here for a while and conversation will make the time pass faster.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just cranky.” He whipped out another Zesty bar and tossed it to me. It landed in my lap. I stared at it like a lifeline. “Thanks, you’re like freaking Santa Claus or something.”

“I got used to buying two, I guess,” he said simply. “Tell you what, if there’s a question you don’t want to answer just say ‘pass’, and I promise I won’t prod, okay? You can ask me questions too.”

I nodded, tearing open the brown wrapping on the protein bar. I knew this one would fill me up completely. “What does the ‘U’ stand for?”

“The U?”

“The U in your middle initial. I’ve been curious since the airport.” He smirked, and I immediately held up my finger before he could comment. “You can’t make fun of me about the airport debacle either. That’s our secret.”

He nodded. “Of course, Marley, I didn’t tell anyone, and I promise you I won’t.”

It must have been true, because if he had revealed the story, it would be all over the office by now. People would be stopping me in the hallway to ask me if I had kidnapped any old men lately, or if I was randy. A story like that would spread through our office faster than swine flu. Rick was a newcomer and telling such a story would have enamoured him to the boys’ club at Henley Inc, but he hadn’t. Of course, he already had enough charm and exuberance to belong to the boys’ club naturally. “The U stands for
Ulysses.”

I burst out laughing, almost choking on the Zesty bar.

“You can’t laugh at me for that, Marley, just like I can’t laugh about your failed abduction.”

“Sorry, I won’t laugh, but I’m curious, why Ulysses?” I asked, holding my stomach to suppress my urge to giggle.

“My father was a history professor. He was infatuated with the Civil war period and General Ulysses S Grant, the eighteenth president.” Rick brought his legs up to his chest and folded his arms around them. He looked a little sad, and my heart swelled for him.
“Any plans this weekend?” His question was an obvious attempt at changing the subject, and I was very glad to oblige.

“I’m going to the bakery with Stevie for wedding cake tasting.”

“That sounds boring.”

“Actually it’s the one duty as the maid of honour I’m looking forward to.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I love desserts.”

“What’s the best dessert you’ve ever eaten?”

I stared off at the steel doors that were locking us in, suspending us between floors. I already knew the answer, but hesitated to respond. Most of the time, our casual discussions were fraught with intense verbal play, where I was left exhausted trying to work around the hidden meanings. This one was more open, and in a strange way that frightened me.

“Come on, Marley, is that too much of a personal question? Really?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not.” I smiled softly at Rick. “My favourite dessert was a German chocolate cake my mother baked about a year ago.”

“What was so special about it?”

“She’s made it a few times. It’s a different recipe now that she’s vegan, but that’s not why it was my favourite. My mom has always done these weird health cleanses. She was doing a sugar fast that week, which meant no desserts. It actually meant no sugar at all, not even in your coffee. I have no idea why my sisters and I agreed to do it with her, but we did. We were ready to rip each other’s hair out by the third day. My mother baked a German chocolate cake to celebrate our accomplishment at the end of the week. She’d made it before, but somehow it tasted like a thousand times more decadent. I mean, the cake was always awesome, but to this day, I think depriving myself of sweets made it…extraordinary. Do you know what I mean?”

He listened with rapt attention to my story. “Yes, I think so. It’s completely cliché, but it’s true what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not a dessert person, but I wouldn’t mind sharing a piece of German chocolate cake with you, Marley.”

My pulse quickened. His words were saturated with hidden intent. Even the soft, sultry way he said my name caused me to lick my lips. I hoped he would think I was imagining the cake in my head and not him. I had to steer the conversation, yet again. How could German chocolate cake come off as a euphemism for sex?

“I’m sure the absence makes your heart grow fonder for your girlfriend.” I shut my eyes tight.
Is there fucking truth serum in these Zesty bars
?

I didn’t look at his face, but his reply was slow and serious. “Sometimes, absence can make you see what you’ve been missing. What you didn’t even realise you wanted.”

I sucked in a deep breath and told myself to be calm. “Not me, Rick, I know exactly what I want.”

“Do you? Because what you told me about your…your…rotation…doesn’t seem to fit you.” He said
rotation
like it was a dirty word.

“
Pass
!” I screamed, cutting through the heated tension that was building in the small elevator car.

“I didn’t ask you a question. I made a statement.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m not looking for your approval. You can think I’m a slut—”

“I don’t think that at all, Marley. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

I held my hand up signalling that I wasn’t done. “You shouldn’t have made it your business to interfere with my lifestyle, Rick. It’s none of your concern, but just so you know, it suits me perfectly.”

My phone rang just then. It was Stevie.

I turned to him, willing my voice to come out even. “I have to take this. It’s my sister. It could be an emergency.” Thankfully, it didn’t crack. It was a sarcastic imitation of the sincere statement he’d made during the ride from the airport, but I didn’t care at this point. Rick nodded sullenly. I was being a complete bitch and I knew it. I had to be—he had the uncanny ability to look straight through me to the deepest, darkest parts that I’d never revealed to anyone.

I’d barely said hello before Stevie headed into a long ramble about how Adam’s mother was driving her crazy. I didn’t tell her I was trapped in an elevator with my boss, not that she gave me the chance. She would only further exasperate me with her questions and merciless teasing. I could feel Rick’s stare like it was tangible. I didn’t acknowledge it. I nonchalantly chatted with my sister instead until the man from Gurney arrived to rescue us from the awkward tension of the small space.

Immediate relief flooded my body, but I felt the strain of impending anxiety. Rick walked me to my car. He opened my door for me and told me to drive carefully as he always did, but there was a new melancholy in his voice. I couldn’t go straight home. I stopped at a drugstore parking lot. I didn’t need to buy anything. Instead, I sat in my car and cried. I had no idea why—only that I needed to. It felt as if something meaningful had passed me by, and I’d caught a brief shadow of it, unable to grasp it.

* * * *

I laughed hysterically when I came home to find a German chocolate cake. My mother and sisters gaped at me waiting for an explanation. I explained I’d told a co-worker of the story of our week of abstinence from sugar. The word abstinence made me laugh harder. They all looked at each other quizzically.

“It’s not that funny, Marley,” Stevie quipped.

It really wasn’t. It was quite pathetic actually.

They’d all been waiting for me to get home before they had dessert. My mother doled out pieces to all of us and announced it was time to dish and dish. She dished about a new co-worker who’d started at the library she worked at. Stevie dished on and on about the wedding. Billie dished about getting an A on her AP lit test at school. I nodded and murmured encouraging words at the appropriate times. My mother finally turned her sweet gaze to me, silencing everyone at the table. “Marley, you have to dish. It’s the rule.” It was the rule, and I sometimes think my mother created this stupid game just to get me to talk.

I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to share.”

“Marley, say something please,” Stevie insisted in that quiet voice she got when she was concerned about me. They all were.

“Why don’t we ever talk about how I was molested?”

I felt the tight embrace of all three women at once, like an emotional cocoon. “Marley, we can talk about it, sweetheart. We just don’t because you never wanted to. We can talk about anything you need to,” my mother said stroking my hair.

“I feel guilty about it.” My quiet statement initiated a trio of gasps.