by Whitney G.
“Are you trying to ask if you can join me?”
“I don’t need to.” I smiled. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Claire stopped running and plopped down on a bench right by the lake.
“That trail was amazing.” She panted. “I need to rest for a minute.”
I sat down next to her, watching beads of sweat trickle down her chest. It always amazed me how good she looked in everything. She was dressed in gray sweats and a light purple tank top, but she still looked stunning.
“Can I ask you something?” She looked over at me.
“Of course you can.”
“Are you sure?” She lowered her voice. “It’s a really personal question...”
“Are you mocking me? Ask me anything you want.”
“Why did you feel the need to change your bio about your past for the company handbook?”
Whoa...Didn’t see that one coming...
“It’s complicated.” I didn’t want to talk about it.
She nodded and looked off into the distance, at the birds that were now landing in droves around the lake; at the small group of kids who were attempting to build castles with wet mud.
She leaned back and began stretching her muscles, holding her arms over her head and arching her legs.
I suddenly realized that unlike all the women I’d dated in the past, Claire wasn’t going to open up to me first—if she opened up at all. She didn’t trust me, and I guessed I hadn’t really given her much of a reason to.
“My parents were crystal meth dealers.” I turned to face her. “They used to leave me and my little sister locked in the trailer home while they went out and sold drugs. Whenever they were home, they were either passed out high or yelling at us for shit we didn’t even do.”
She crossed her legs on the bench and looked into my eyes. She looked sympathetic, but I didn’t want to turn this into an emotional tirade. I just wanted to give her the facts and move on to a different conversation.
“We pretty much had to fend for ourselves. I was eight and she was three. At first, they only left us for a few hours, a night here or there. But in the summertime they would leave us locked in there for weeks at a time. The two of us would cry for someone to come help us, but no one ever did...”
I sighed. “By the time I was twelve, I was taking care of my little sister all by myself and just trying to keep us out of my parents’ way. I tried to stay after school as late as I could and made sure she was out the trailer as much as possible. But on one particular Friday, all the activities were canceled because of a storm, so we had to go home. When we got there, my parents were getting into a car and saying they’d be right back. We went inside as usual and they locked the door behind us. I tucked my sister into bed and was about to take a nap, but all these pots and bottles were in flames on the stove. I tried to put the fire out, but the flames only grew bigger and bigger.”
I suddenly remembered waking Hayley up, listening to her deafening screams once she saw the flames behind my back, once she realized that the flames were blocking the only door.
I locked us both in the bathroom, hoping that the neighbors would see the flames—that they would call the fire department in time to get us out. But black smoke started seeping underneath the door, and I could see the metal hinges twisting and bending in the heat.
I started throwing things at the small window that was above the toilet—soap dishes, shampoo bottles, the plunger— attempting the break it, but it wouldn’t crack.
Hayley was crying hysterically—beating her hands against the shower glass, and I was trying my best to get that damn window open. After a while I didn’t hear her erratic screams at all. She’d passed out.
“I didn’t know what to do so I just kept throwing stuff at that window. I didn’t have time to stop and help her.”
“She died?” Claire looked saddened.
“No.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I managed to get the window open by beating at it with a metal trash can. I picked her up and threw her out of it, and then I climbed out minutes before the whole trailer exploded...If I were to write about it in my bio, it would read something like: My parents left me and my little sister in an exploding meth lab alone and we were eventually separated and put in different foster homes while they served out long prison terms. That’s not something I really want my employees or competitors to know about. People are sick these days and will use anything in a smear campaign.”
“I’m so sorry...I wouldn’t have asked if—”
“It’s okay. I don’t think about it that often.”
She was quiet for several moments. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Is it something else depressing?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s about the women you’ve dated before.”
“Ask away.”
“Have you ever dated anyone else older than you?”
“No.”
“Any reason why?”
“I don’t need to know how old a beautiful woman is before I ask her out.” I watched her blush. “It just never happened before you. There’s no other reason.”
“And you’ve really slept with seventeen women?”
“Would it make you feel better if I lied to you about it?”
“Maybe. Try it.”
“Okay, Claire.” I tried to sound as sincere as possible. “No, I haven’t really slept with seventeen women. That’s a ridiculous number...I made that up to seem like I was more experienced than I was. The truth is, I was a virgin when we first met. But I knew that the moment I saw you and heard a few words come out of your smart ass mouth, that it was you that I wanted to lose my virginity to. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I cried after the first time we—”
“You’re so full of it.” She playfully hit my shoulder and I pulled her close to me.
“I don’t lie.” I ran my fingers across her soft lips. “Unlike some people I know...” I stifled her laugh with a kiss and laid her against the park bench, but she suddenly jumped up.
“Oh my god...” she said as she shook her head. “I knew we should’ve left earlier...”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Claire? Mr. Statham?” Mr. Henderson, one of the campaign directors, stopped running right in front of us and took out his ear-buds. “You two are here...together?” He raised his eyebrow.
Claire sighed and looked like she was about to say something, but I stood up. “Not at all, Mr. Henderson. I saw Miss Gracen running by and asked her to sit with me for a minute. Do all directors meet here on Saturday mornings? Am I keeping her away from the rest of the group?”
“Oh, not at all.” He shook his head. “But I may have to start coming here more often...Claire, I had no idea you ran. Maybe we can run here together sometime?”
This secret dating shit isn’t going to work for too much longer...
“Um...” She looked over at me. “I’m not so—”
“It was nice seeing the two of you today. It’s good to know that employees are friends outside of the office.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m going to go back to relaxing on the bench now. Have a great Saturday, Mr. Henderson.” I narrowed my eyes at Claire. “Miss Gracen.”
I walked back over to the bench, only a few feet away from them, and pretended to be engrossed in my phone.
“What were you saying, Claire?” He smiled at her.
“I was saying that I wasn’t sure if that’d be a good idea...We’re coworkers in the same department and—”
“You and I both know the fraternization policy was canceled a while ago.” He reached over and caressed her cheek with the side of his palm. “It’s just a run, Claire. If you enjoy it—and I think you would, we could even do lunch later. There’s this great sandwich shop two miles down.”
“I—”
“I’ve always wanted to ask you out—you’re beyond gorgeous, but with the policy and all, and you being so—”
�
�Me being so what?” She tilted her head to the side and smiled.
Is she actually entertaining him?! In front of me?! Right in front of me?!
“Nothing...I just always wanted to ask you out, that’s all. Would you like to run with me next Saturday?”
“I can’t. I mean, thanks for the offer but I can’t go out with you...I’m kind of seeing someone else right now.”
Kind of?
“Is it completely exclusive or are you open to dating other people?”
She hesitated and I almost jumped up and kissed her in broad daylight, right in front of him and anyone else that cared to watch.
“I’m seeing someone else, Matthew...”
“Well...” He smiled. “Let me know if it doesn’t work out, okay? I think you and I would be good together. We have a lot in common...” He looked her over one last time before he walked away.
I can’t believe this woman. She has some. fucking. nerve.
Mr. Henderson resumed his run and Claire walked back over to the bench.
“I think we should get out of here before anyone else shows up.” She sighed. “It’s almost nine o’ clock so—”
“Are you ashamed of me, Claire?”
“What? No, of course not. I—”
“What’s the reason behind keeping us dating a secret again? The employee policy has been changed for quite some time now.”
“Because you’re the CEO and I’m a mid–level marketing director. It’s already complicated enough with the age gap, but our positions are—”
“Do you want a fucking promotion? Do you want a seat on the goddamn board? What position do you fucking want because I’ll make it happen today. What do I need to do to make sure people know that you’re taken and not interested because you sure as hell don’t know how to make that clear!”
“Excuse me?” She scoffed. “I don’t need you to insult me by acting like you’re in control of—”
“What position do you want?”
“It’s not about the position, Jonathan.” She seethed. “It’s about me knowing better than to date the CEO in the first place, who is undoubtedly the most jealous and possessive man I’ve ever met.”
“You left out the sexiest.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up. “I parked my car on the other side of the lake. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”
“Stop.” I reached out and grabbed her arm. “I was more than honest with you. I told you I’m the jealous type and I meant that. I don’t want to see you with anyone else and I don’t want people thinking you’re on the market...What do I need to do to make sure that happens?”
“Stop being so damn childish.”
“I’m not being childish. I’m protecting what’s mine.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re not what? Mine? Is that what you were about to say?”
She crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Why did you let him touch you here?” I ran my fingertips across her cheek. “I didn’t like that...”
“How was I supposed to know that he was going to touch me? I can’t read minds... We really need to leave before the morning rush. Mr. Barnes runs here sometimes, as well as a few of my associates...”
“Where are you headed?” I slipped my arm around her waist.
“Home.” She tried to move my hand, but I tightened my grip.
“I don’t think so.”
“Jonathan, I am going home. Right now. Deal with it.”
“No. You’re not. You’re coming with me.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “We need to have another discussion and make sure the two of us are on the same page. I don’t think you fully understand what being mine means.”
“Fine. So we’re only going to talk?”
“Yes...Right after I fuck the shit out of you.”
Chapter 14
Jonathan
“Could you please stop filling my office with hundreds of flowers every day? This is getting ridiculous!” Claire texted me.
“I don’t want anyone thinking you’re available.”
“No one thinks I’m available! I told you no one here has ever tried to talk to me but you (except for Saturday), and I’m starting to rethink our arrangement...”
“Are you threatening me, Claire? You should see how people look at you when you step into meetings or when you walk down the hall. No one ever tried to talk to you because of that damn fraternization policy and they assumed you wouldn’t give them the time of day.”
“I don’t make idle threats.”
“I look forward to being punished. See you this evening.”
“Mr. Statham?” The therapist cleared her throat. “Are you ready to begin now?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. I’d hired a mediator to speak with my mother and me once a week since she and I couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without arguing.
Even though my mother thought this was a brilliant idea, I was beginning to have second thoughts; she didn’t look too composed today—her hair was in a frizzy ponytail, her pants weren’t ironed, and she reeked of beer and ashes.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands together. “We’ll start with a few simple questions to see what we’re dealing with. Mrs. Statham—I mean, Denise—what do you hope to accomplish by these sessions?”
“I want my son to respect me again...I want him to welcome me back into his life so we can start over.”
“Okay...” The therapist jotted down a few notes. “And what about you, Jonathan? What do you hope to gain from this?”
“I have nothing to gain from this...Maybe just to be able to sit in a room with her without yelling. That would be sufficient enough.”
“See?” My mom crossed her legs. “That’s exactly what I was telling you about earlier, Doctor. He only hired you to make himself look good, to make it seem like he’s trying, but he’s really not. He doesn’t give a damn about me, he—”
“Have you told her how many times you’ve relapsed? How many times you’ve been in and out of prison? How you technically should be in prison right now?”
“Damnit Jonathan! I’m trying to make something of myself! I’m working really hard! Stop holding my past against me! I’m—”
“Calm down, Denise.” The therapist handed her a glass of water. “Jonathan, we don’t need to start pointing fingers or assigning blame at this stage. We need to start by taking things very slowly. Surely there is something you want to gain out of these sessions.”
I leaned back in my chair and thought long and hard. “I don’t want to be angry with her anymore.”
“Great! That’s a good start. Now Denise, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer it as truthfully as possible. Jonathan, please don’t interrupt...Why do you think you and your son don’t have a good relationship?”
My mother looked at me and sighed. “I had Jonathan when I was twenty-five...I wasn’t ready for a baby but I did my best with what I had...Me and his father were working three jobs each just to make ends meet and before we knew it, we had another child, a baby girl...One day while we were going over more overdue bills, a few of his friends came over and asked if we wanted to try some meth—to stop stressing out so much you know? We both did it and—”
“They went from users to chronic users to two of the most sought after meth dealers in the whole state of Ohio. It’s a very heartwarming story.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m thinking about turning it into a Christmas play.”
“Jonathan, let her finish...” The therapist sighed.
“Anyway,” my mother said, “I was a horrible mother...I know that, and I’ve owned that but...I was on drugs...I wasn’t myself. I didn’t mean to leave my kids hungry or neglect them...It’s completely my fault that they were taken away from me, but I’m clean now and I want a chance to be the mother I should have been back then.”
“Very good start, Denise. Jonathan, how do you feel about what your mo
ther just said?”
“What do you mean ‘how do I feel’?”
“How do you feel? Do you think she’s sincere?”
“My mother has been clean for what? Two months now? By the end of this month, she’ll be back in rehab and won’t even remember that this session happened—which is quite fitting, because you’re not the first therapist I’ve hired and she doesn’t remember any of the other therapists either...So, I feel rather...I feel nothing.”
“She apologized for leaving you and your sister hungry. She—”
“The word ‘hungry’ implies wanting something to eat—knowing that it’s only a matter of time before some type of food is placed in front of you. My mother did not leave us hungry. She left us starving. We went days, sometimes weeks, locked inside our trailer with just rice grains to eat. It wasn’t until I realized that I could climb out the window and get to the dumpsters that I realized what the word ‘hungry’ meant.”
There was silence.
The therapist took off her glasses and looked back and forth between the two of us. “Okay, we clearly have a lot of work to do over the next few months....Let’s take a break and reconvene next week. Okay?”
“Great.” I stood up and offered a hug to my mother. Even though I was beyond furious with her, I always made a point to do that, just in case she relapsed before our next encounter and I wouldn’t see her for another eight months.
“Do you want to get dinner tonight?” She hugged me back. “We don’t have to say a word to each other. We could go to one of those restaurants that plays movies. We never watched any movies together...”
And we probably never will.
“Maybe some other time. I have a date tonight.”
I parked in front of Claire’s house and hit my emergency brake so my car wouldn’t roll down the hill. I’d been meaning to ask why the hell she’d bought a house at the top of a slope; it didn’t seem safe.
“You’re early...What type of car is that?” She texted me.
“A Murcielago. The meeting was cut short. Take your time getting ready...Wear a dress.”
