by Marla Meyers
“Well, Madam Marissa!!” Becka began, with her fake English accent again, then changing back quickly, “this crazy bitch done fixed your breakfast! So, up and at ‘em”
“Becka,” Marissa said, uncovering her head, “I don’t know what to think about you sometimes!” She watched Becka stop bouncing and fling herself on the end of Marissa’s bed, appearing to be worn out from all the jumping.
Marissa teasingly kicked at Becka, asking,“Well, where’s my breakfast in bed?”
Becka, having recovered from the workout, responded, “Let’s not push our luck, my dear. I have prepared a breakfast fit for a queen, all in accordance with the demands of that cute little doctor of yours, so march your little ass into ala’ kitchen and partake!”
“Yes Ma’am!” Marissa answered, saluting.
Becka slowly stood up, moaning, “Oooooh I’m too old for this!” and she headed towards the kitchen, as Marissa slowly followed, saying softly, “Becka, you’re nuts.” She wished that she possessed some of Becka’s adolescent behavior and seemingly carefree spirit.
“Looks great!” Marissa smiled, as she sat down at the breakfast table, then grinning asked, “What is this?”
“Eggs”
“Eggs?” Marissa asked, unsure.
“Yes those little oval shaped things that chickens lay.You know the ones,” Becka said, soft and sarcastic.
“Oh,” Marissa stated, still staring at her plate. “Don’t you have to work today?” she asked, toying with the yellow mass before her.
“Nope! You’re stuck with me for the rest of the week! Just think…you can wake up to a breakfast like this for several more days! Isn’t that great?”
“Wonderful!” Marissa answered, cocking her head to one side, as she studied what she assumed must be bacon, now being served alongside the yellow mass.
With a mouthful of food, Becka said, “I’m going to go to the video store later and rent some movies. We’re going to eat all day and watch movies. What a life!”
Becka continued to stuff herself, obviously thrilled to be off work for a few days. As she munched on another piece of toast, Becka began clearing the dishes. The sun was shining through the sliding glass door in Marissa’s kitchen, reflecting the dust, from her absence, on the glass and chrome dining table. No sooner had she noticed it, she saw Becka retrieving a bottle of glass cleaner from under the sink.
“I know this bothers you,” Becka said, giggling, as she began cleaning the table, referring to Marissa’s near obsession with nearness.
“You know me so well, Becka,” she said, perching her feet on the other chair, watching Becka wipe the table, before loading the dishes into the dishwasher, appearing to be a feat she was not familiar with.
“Tupperware on top,” Marissa said, as Becka placed a Tupperware bowl on the bottom rack of the dishwasher.
“Yes um, Miss Marissa,” as she removed the bowl from the bottom rack and placed it on the top rack. Then raising an eyebrow, stopped and asked, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I’m sick crazy. you remember I have to rest.”
Marissa began, slow and coyly, “I probably shouldn’t lift a finger for the next few days.”
“God!! I’ve created a monster!” Becka responded, fumbling with the knob on the dishwasher, clearly uncertain how to make it function.
“Push,” Marissa said.
“I knew that,” Becka said, pushing the knob, as the dishwasher kicked into cycle.
“There!!” Becka squealed. T can function in a domestic environment!” obviously proud of her accomplishments this morning.
Marissa knew that Becka was trying very hard to keep her spirits up, and it was working. Becka was the kind of person that could walk into a room and light it up. She wasn’t what you would consider beautiful, but she was striking and transmitted a certain glow. People always noticed her. She had a silly childlike nature, complimented by an air of confidence. She was very independent, and she balanced all these qualities quite well. Marissa wished she was more like Becka more carefree. She had heard Becka say many times, Well, just fuck, em’ if they can’t take a joke. And, she meant it. Nothing seemed to get her riled. It was, however, this carefree, independent attitude that had cost her many a relationship. Perhaps men were intimidated somewhat by Becka. Or, maybe it was just that Becka couldn’t ever stay content with one guy for very long.
“I’m going with you to the video store,” Marissa stated.
“Marissa, you’re supposed to rest. I’ll go…and, don’t worry. I’ll pick out a steamy flick! Listen to Dr. Becka!”
“I’m unstable. I might shoot myself or something while you’re gone.”
“Marissa! That’s not funny!” Becka snapped, grabbing a towel from the drier, heading towards the shower, and taking her much too serious.
“Becka! I’m joking!” Marissa said, trying to reassure her, feeling worried about Becka’s sudden seriousness. Maybe Becka did think she was unstable. Becka headed to the shower, looking back at Marissa with a look that seemed to confirm Marissa’s thoughts.
As Becka showered, Marissa let her mind drift back to the farm. Still in her nightshirt, she sat down on the couch, turned on the TV and attempted to concentrate on the talk show that was on. Her mind kept drifting. First with thoughts of the little girl, Andrea then of Joshua. She could still see his face, looking into her eyes as they made love. She couldn’t shake that from her mind. Nor did she want to.
Geraldo. That was the talk show. “Our next guest is a woman from Cleveland, Ohio” she heard the host begin, but she couldn’t concentrate. Without Becka’s silly behavior to keep her giggling, she found herself intensely remembering Joshua.
She remembered his naked body, standing in front of her. She remembered the way he slowly undressed her, fondling her gently as he did, tightly pressing his lips on hers, rendering her helpless to his passion. How she longed to relive that night his touch…his lips drifting from her lips slowly down to her breast. With this thought, she became conscious of her now hardened nipples, protruding through her T-shirt, as she reached up and gently began stroking her left breast. She closed her eyes and again pictured Joshua’s tall, muscular body standing naked before her. With a tingling sensation winding up her spine, she cupped her other hand between her legs. She stopped quickly, however, returning her thoughts to the present, when she heard Becka yell from the bedroom, “Marissa…get dressed. You’re going with me, aren’t you?”
“Fine okay,” Marissa answered, feeling like a child almost caught with her hand in the cookie jar, as she jumped up and headed towards the bedroom.
“Be quick!” Becka snapped jokingly, unaware of Marissa’s embarrassment over her near indiscretion.
As they later crawled into Becka’s ‘76 corvette, Marissa turned to her. “I really wouldn’t have shot myself,” she said, grinning.
“I know that,” Becka said, not grinning and seeming a little uncomfortable. “I just wanted the company.”
Becka pulled into the video store with a screech. How she loved that car.
“Well hell! Look who’s here! Isn’t that butt-hole’s car?” Becka asked, pointing to a cream colored, four door BMW, as she exited her car.
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Marissa answered, realizing she was referring to Scott’s car. “I left him, remember?”
“Yeah, but he was a butt-hole while you were married, or you wouldn’t have left him, right? Besides, he gave you a lot of grief during the last days of the divorce.”
“He was just hurt,” Marissa said, feeling a need to defend Scott, knowing he would never be a match for Becka’s sharp tongue.
“Well, he doesn’t look hurt now,” Becka said, as they entered the video store, nodding her head towards Scott.
Marissa looked over at Scott, then at the blonde on his arm.
“Should I ask him who the babe is?” Becka snickered evilly.
“Becka let it go,” Marissa told her, almost threatening.
“Scott, hello,” Becka said soft and politely, as if she had never made that last remark.
“Becka Marissa…hello,” Scott fumbled.
It had been months since Marissa had seen Scott. She had talked to him on the phone. He looked good, she realized. It felt strange to see him with another woman.
“Hi Scott,” Marissa said.
“So,” Scott said, still stumbling, “what keeps you ladies out of the office today?”
Marissa opened her mouth to respond, when Becka jumped in and ignoring Scott’s question completely, asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
The blonde looked uncomfortable, Marissa thought to herself.
Becka, however, confident and cool as ever, was beaming ear to ear. She enjoyed this type of torment.
“This is Lindy,” Scott replied, “and Lindy, this is Marissa and Becka.”
“Very nice to meet you,” the blonde responded in the most southern accent Marissa knew she had ever heard. Oh God! Becka was sure to run with this. Marissa quickly shot Becka a look, as if to tell her to behave.
Becka, obviously disregarded the look and said, “Oh, my what a lovely accent.”
Seeing what was sure to come, and knowing Becka quite well himself, Scott pulled the blonde slighdy in his direction, saying, “We were just on our way out. Nice to see you guys.” They headed towards the door.
Marissa waved.
“What a bimbo!” Becka said, louder than necessary.
“Shut up, Becka! Why do you do things like that?” Marissa asked, truly irritated.
Scott allowed the blonde to go ahead of him, looking back at Marissa, with sadness in his eyes, appearing not to have heard Becka’s remark. He waved and they were gone.
“Becka, why did you do that? She could have heard you,” Marissa said, feeling sorry for the blonde.
“Chill, Mel…and find a movie.”
That was Becka’s way of saying let’s drop it.
They picked out two romantic comedies and headed home.
Becka was unusually quiet for the first few minutes, then asked, “Marissa, do you miss him?”
“Yeah…sometimes.”
Becka tilted her head, and seeming to ask for forgiveness in her own way, said, “Well she was a bimbo.”
“Yes…I know,” Marissa said grinning, as if to let her know she was forgiven.
Then, in typical Becka style, she hit the gas, cranked up the stereo, and broke out singing, “Feeling better now that we’re through, feeling better cus I’m over you. “
Linda Ronstadt, Marissa thought, as Becka continued to belt out the lyrics, getting louder and louder red curls bouncing in the wind.
Sheila, hi,” Marissa said warmly, entering the front office about two feet behind her secretary. “It feels so good to be back.”
“Marissa, hi. You are so early this morning!” Sheila replied, smiling. “We missed you around here. Do you feel better? Did you get some rest?”
“I spent a week with Becka. Being back at the office will be a rest compared to that,” Marissa teased.
They walked down the hall towards Marissa’s office, where Sheila’s desk was outside the door. Sheila sat down and turned on her computer and began checking messages. Marissa started to walk into her office, but turned around and looked at Sheila before she walked in. Something wasn’t right.
“Sheila?” Marissa asked, with concern in her voice. “Huh?” Sheila responded, barely looking up, as she organized what seemed to be an unusually large buildup of paperwork on her desk.
Marissa sat down at the chair in front of Sheila’s desk. Sheila was young and not very experienced, but she was a hard worker and Marissa had never seen her desk look like this. Afraid that this pileup was due to her absence, she asked, “Sheila, is this because I’ve been gone?” She pointed to the stack of papers.
Sheila looked up and mumbled, “No well, kind of…but…”
“Talk to me Sheila. What’s the deal?”
A tear was building in the corner of Sheila’s eye. Marissa had never seen her so upset about work.
“Come on,” Marissa instructed, standing up and motioning Sheila towards her office. Sheila stood up, and wiping the tear, followed Marissa into her office, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry Marissa. I don’t mean to be such a cry baby,” she blurted out, as Marissa sat down at her own desk, scanning a large pile of papers on her desk also.
“Okay. What is going on?”
Sheila seemed to be getting herself together, taking a couple of deep breaths and brushing back the blonde hair that had fallen in front of her tearing eyes. Marissa had always treated Sheila as a friend, more as an equal than as her secretary. Many nights they had spent late at the office working on a campaign. Sheila had always seemed a pillar of strength and always excited about a challenge. About ten years Marissa’s junior, Sheila was going to night school trying to get her degree in advertising. She had been Marissa’s secretary for about a year now. Many of those late nights were spent helping Sheila with her homework, also. They were friends, but Marissa knew Sheila looked up to her.
“Marissa, I’m just so sorry,” Sheila started again. wanted to keep everything in order for you while you were gone, it’s just that…” and she seemed to be searching for words.
Knowing Sheila had always kept things under control when she had been on vacations before, Marissa asked her, “Sheila, what happened while I was gone? Is it personal?”
“No. Oh no. Everything at home is fine,” she answered, referring to her living situation with her boyfriend. That was often the topic of conversation with she and Marissa.
“Jordan hired a new guy,” Sheila said, almost sneering now, tears turning almost instantly to anger as she said, “his name is Brycen Malloy.”
“Brycen Malloy?” Marissa asked surprised. Jordan, President of the firm, usually let the other account reps know about any addition to the staff, well in advance.
“Well, obviously this is sudden. Did anyone know we would have someone new starting?” Marissa asked, irritated, realizing that her secretary had obviously taken on this new guy’s paperwork.
“I asked around, Marissa, and no-one seemed to have known he was coming until the day he showed up. I had plenty to do while you were gone, and you know I could have handled it,” Sheila said, seeking reassurance from Marissa, seeming disappointed with herself. Continuing on, she said, “I stayed as late as I could, Marissa, I just couldn’t keep up with it all. Brycen was very insistent that what he gave me was priority work.”
“Sheila, it’s okay. I’m just sorry you feel so overwhelmed. We’ll work together and get it all straightened out.” Marissa tried to reassure her, knowing that she was going to have a word with Jordan as soon as he arrived.
Sheila got up and went outside to her desk. Marissa took a good look at the mess on her own desk. It seemed as if her campaigns had been put on hold in her absence. She had done all the preliminary work. Sheila could have handled getting things scheduled with the art department, followed up loose ends, and kept things flowing until she returned. She left for the farm confident that there wouldn’t be a backup when she returned. What the hell had happened?
“Sheila,” Marissa called from her intercom, “leave a message with Jordan’s secretary that I want to see him as soon as he comes in.”
“Well do,” Sheila answered, sounding better already, knowing Marissa would get to the bottom of this.
This wasn’t like Jordan, Marissa thought to herself. He was tough, but not unfair. Sheila had obviously been overloaded. Jordan must not know. Well, he was getting ready to find out. Who was this Brycen Malloy, anyway?
Marissa spent the next hour or so sorting through the piles on her desk, becoming more irritated with each unfinished project that she discovered.
“Marissa, line two,” she heard Sheila’s voice on the intercom. “It’s Becka.�
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Marissa picked up the phone, relieved to a take break from the work at hand.
“Dr. Becka, how are we today?” Marissa asked, over emphasizing the word Doctor.
“Dr. Becka just called to check on her favorite patient,” Becka teased back. “How does it feel to be back at work? I bet Sheila was glad to see you.”
“Glad wasn’t the word. Elated is more like it. She has evidently had a hard time while I’ve been gone. Jordan hired some new guy. He insisted his work took priority over mine and Sheila has been really backlogged.”
“Uh oh!” Becka responded, “Ol’ Jordan better look out. You have that tone in your voice.”
“Damn it,” Marissa snapped. “It will take me and Sheila a lot of extra late nights to get all this crap straightened out. I can’t imagine what could be so important. Brycen Malloy is his name. He’s probably some nerdy looking guy
fresh out of college on a power trip trying to score
points with Jordan or something. You know the type. Jordan probably doesn’t even realize what he did to Sheila while I was gone.”
“Well, you sound fired up and back to normal to me,” Becka said. “Go easy on the poor nerd, Mel. You were young and over ambitious once,” she teased.
“Yeah well…” Marissa trailed off.
“Call me later. I’ve got another line.” Becka quickly said good-bye and hung up.
“Marissa, Jordan called,” Sheila announced, as she hung up with Becka. “He said to come down to his office whenever you were ready.”
“Good,” Marissa snapped. She checked her lipstick, then quickly got up and headed out of her office, smiling at Sheila on her way down the hall, as if to say “don’t worry’.
“Hello Pamela,” Marissa said to Jordan’s secretary, as she neared his office.
“Hello Marissa. Welcome back,” Pamela answered, in her all too polite little voice, as she sat there with not a stitch of paperwork on her desk.
Pamela’s office functions were to have lunch with Jordan, run errands with Jordan, have more lunches with Jordan, run more errands with Jordan, and so on. Cradle robbing, Marissa thought to herself as she entered the President’s office.
