Born Again

by Heidi Lowe

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  I was always happy to see him, even when he brought bad news. It had been three months since we’d started working together, and we’d formed a friendship, albeit one that didn’t extend beyond the workplace. If I was being honest, he, along with Gaynor, had made the place bearable. If they hadn’t been there, providing moral support and catching my errors before Naomi did, I would have been fired a thousand times already.

  His eyes sparkled. “Do you know what you’re wearing to the party this Saturday?”

  “What party?”

  He’d grown his beard out, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it didn’t suit the shape of his face. It made him look rugged, and he was anything but.

  “The retirement party, girl, keep up.”

  I frowned. “Darius Zaki’s? I’ve never even met the guy. I’m not going.”

  “Erm, yes you are. When the company’s founder retires and throws a party, everyone goes. And it is gonna be lit!” He slid into a chair. “Have you seen where this guy lives? The dude has his own lake.”

  None of that stuff impressed me, but because Saeed was expecting a reaction, I gave him one. “Wow. So he’s loaded?”

  “He’s not Bezos rich, but he’s up there. He throws parties every year, but only for the major players. This is our chance to really see how the other half live.”

  I wasn’t interested in seeing how they lived. Colin and I had made tentative plans to go to the movie theater that Saturday evening.

  “So this thing’s mandatory?”

  “Pretty much. But, hello, why wouldn’t you wanna party all night in a mansion? Free drinks, free food, a chance to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful.”

  I laughed, shook my head. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

  “I so don’t buy that pious thing you do. I think you’re a fiend deep down.” He winked at me, got up to leave. “Get a dress. A nice one.”

  I gave him a salute, he laughed then left.

  I sat on the edge of Brit’s bed while she pulled outfits from her closet. The good thing about having a best friend who wore the same dress size was that we could share clothes. The bad thing about having a best friend like Brit was that almost nothing she owned was suitable.

  “Now this could work.” She held up one of the shortest, skimpiest red dresses I’d ever seen. Still had the tag on, like many things in her closet. She was, by her own admission, a clothes hoarder. She would buy things on sale, max out her credit cards, never wear any of it, and dump everything in our yearly Good Will charity bag.

  “Work for what? A night on a street corner?”

  She snickered. “It’s not that bad, Daiquiri. You want to make an impression, well this will do it.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have left it till the last minute to find something to wear. I’d been so focused on work that I’d forgotten to buy a dress. Now Saturday was here, and I’d had to resort to raiding the closet of a woman who only bought outfits that, and I quote, “induced erections and came off with one hand”.

  I collapsed on her bed, let out a dispirited moan. “I don’t want to make any impression; I don’t want to go. If Colin wasn’t so gung-ho about attending I would gladly choose a dark theater over this.”

  “I’m surprised he wanted to go. Isn’t it, like, against his religion to have any kind of fun?”

  I didn’t dignify that with a response. The Colin digs were ceaseless; all day, every day, to the point where it was now background noise to me.

  None of the closest people in my life liked each other. Maybe that should have been a sign — of what, I wasn’t sure. Brit didn’t like Colin; Colin didn’t like Brit. Dove didn’t like Colin; Colin, though he never outright admitted it, wasn’t fond of Dove. And Dove and Brit, well that was personal. They’d had a dumpster fire of a fling back when I’d first met Brit. We’d both worked as waitresses at a large chain restaurant downtown, and had bonded over our mutual hatred of the place and everyone in it — colleagues and customers alike. When Dove, in one of his sober spells, came to visit, they’d hooked up for a couple of fiery weeks. The arguments were legendary. Every insult that could have been thrown was. I was relieved when Dove returned to Portland after his band got a regular gig in a bar.

  “Your boss gonna be there tonight too?”

  I rested on my elbows. She’d shelved the first red dress, pulled out another, which was no better.

  “Maybe. My coworkers said that everyone would be.”

  I’d been wondering the same thing, and had come close to asking her. I also wondered which version of her I’d encounter when I got there.

  “Partying with the boss, that’s gonna be weird.”

  “Yeah,” I said absently.

  She was such an enigma to me, that I often found myself wondering what her life looked like outside the office. I knew so little about her, and, from what I’d gathered, so did everyone else in the team. Had they ever met the woman in the cafe? Did they know that another side of her, an amazing, amiable side, existed? Against my better judgment I found Naomi Pierre fascinating. More fascinating than anyone I’d met up until that point. I was anxious to know more.

  “Earth to Daiquiri.” I didn’t know how long I’d been daydreaming, or even that I was, but Brit’s finger click in my face dragged me out of it. “Where’d you just go?”

  “Huh? Uh, nowhere. What were you saying, sorry?”

  She laughed. “What were you just thinking about? Or should I say who? And don’t say Colin, because I’ve never seen you with that dreamy look before.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “What dreamy look? I was thinking about the party, that’s all.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, smiling wickedly. “You’ve met someone else, haven’t you?”

  How could she be so wrong? If she knew I was just thinking about my mean boss, she would have felt real stupid.

  So... why didn’t I tell her?

  “You’re insane. There’s no one.” I stepped past her, pulled out a dress that had been tucked way in the back. “This one.” A black, sequinned number that I prayed wouldn’t show too much cleavage, and would at least cover my butt. Risqué for me, tame for Brit.

  She looked outraged. “That’s, like, the plainest dress I own. I think I bought it as a joke. I was planning on using it to clean the bathroom!”

  The first thing Colin commented on when I opened the door to him that evening was how different I looked. Which meant he hated my outfit. He had that air of disapproval about him, though he tried to conceal it.

  “Let me guess, Brit loaned you the dress?” he said, once we’d taken off.

  “You hate it, don’t you?”

  Brit had, in fact, loaned me the whole outfit: the glittery blue purse, the three-inch blue heels. Even the diamond earrings (one of the perks of working at a jewelry store).

  Colin was right, I looked very different. Like a woman who could have fun once in a while. That was how Brit described me as she put the finishing touches to my outfit. I couldn’t have done it without her. But I did suddenly feel self-conscious, not in my own skin. Concerned that a “you look great” from Brit meant “you look like a prostitute” from Colin.

  “No, no, I don’t. You look good,” he said quickly.

  I didn’t believe him. His heart wasn’t in the response. This dampened my mood the whole journey.

  Lavish didn’t begin to describe the scene we drove into that evening. Tucked away in a secluded part of Woodinville, hidden in its own private woodland, the mansion measured at least twelve thousand square feet. Cars large and small littered the acres and acres of greenery surrounding the sprawling building. We parked as close to the main gate as possible.

  My grip on Colin’s arm tightened as we entered. A butler took our coats. I marveled at the opulence. A dual staircase in the main lobby led to the second floor. A spiral crystal chandelier hovered and sparkled above us.

  Maybe there were three hundred people
here, but the sheer vastness of the house made the guests look sparse. Three separate sites with upwards of seventy employees in each, plus friends of the host, had all come together that night to see the great man off. Most of the faces, I didn’t know; some I did. I spotted some of my old coworkers from the Pharaoh site, who’d come with their spouses.

  A dozen or more waiters made the rounds with mouth-watering hors d’oeuvres, glasses of champagne, and orange juice. I opted for the latter, Colin a champagne.

  “I can’t believe this place,” he said, eyes filled with awe. “What would a place like this cost?”

  We were in one of several reception rooms, standing alone by the glass doors that led out to the vast backyard. Beyond the lanai, pool and tennis court, I spotted a jungle gym and swings. For the grandkids, probably. A young child’s dream. Darius Zaki, an Egyptian immigrant who’d come to America with nothing, had no doubt given his grandchildren everything, spoiled them rotten. Spared them the hunger, the pain, the neglect so many of their poverty-stricken counterparts had endured. Envy wasn’t an emotion you were supposed to give into in Christianity, but I found myself doing so all the same. I envied his children and grandchildren. Not because they’d had a childhood filled with riches, but simply because they’d had a childhood.

  “A lot,” I said absently, peering longingly outside.

  He followed my gaze. “He’s even got his own jungle gym. Do you think he climbs it himself?” Was this the champagne talking? Because Colin almost never made jokes. Not very funny ones, anyway.

  “I fell off a jungle gym once,” I said, in a faraway voice. “Broke my arm in two places.”

  “Really? You never told me that.”

  I nodded. “I was six. First time I wore a cast.” But not the last. He didn’t need to know the rest. He didn’t need to know how, when the hospital called my parents to tell them I’d had an accident, no one came to get me for two days. And then, when my dad finally did come, he was so high he crashed the car into a street lamp. Though our injuries were minor, he spent the whole afternoon screaming at me for causing him to crash.

  I snapped out of my reverie, rejoined the festivities. In the early days, before therapy and church, my mind would often wander right back into the darkness. It had taken a long time to get to a point where the darkness was no longer my go-to place. But every now and then, when I wasn’t paying attention, I would be right back there, reliving it all, in my own private Hell.

  “You came,” I heard across the room, and noticed that high-pitched voice immediately. Saeed rushed over to us, hand in hand with a pretty Latina woman.

  He embraced me, then stepped back to take me in. “You look amazing, girl. Sequins really work for you. And that bag is fly.”

  “Thank you. You clean up well yourself.” Unlike me, every day was a party to him, thus he always looked great; he always made the effort. “Saeed, this is my boyfriend Colin. Colin, my colleague Saeed.”

  The two men shook hands. I risked a glance at Colin, knowing exactly what I would find. He had that constipated look he got when he was uncomfortable.

  “This is my girlfriend Ximena. Ximena, Dakota. She’s a junior exec.”

  Colin and I exchanged dumbfounded looks.

  “Your... girlfriend?” I said.

  He smiled. “Yes, my girlfriend. Partner, whatever you wanna call it.”

  Well this was confusing. But, aware that my confusion must have come off as rude, I simply shook her hand and moved on with the conversation.

  Five minutes later, once Saeed and Ximena went to get something to eat, Colin turned to me and said, voice lowered, “I feel as though I just stepped into the Twilight Zone. He’s gay, isn’t he?”

  “Clearly not,” I said, still perplexed by what just happened. “When he mentioned his partner I just assumed it was a man.”

  “And there I was thinking that this company hires more gay people than straight ones,” he whispered. “Slight exaggeration, but they seem to be everywhere.”

  I said nothing. A few months ago I would have been right there with him, agreeing, just because that was what was expected of me. But now, for the first time in a long time, his bigoted comments just sounded unpleasant. Unnecessary. Unkind.

  He clearly couldn’t read a room, because he continued. “See that lady over there, the one that looks quite manly?”

  I followed his gaze, landed on a woman in a waistcoat and pants, sporting a swept back fade.

  “She’s the new lawyer. Even if she hadn’t mentioned her recent divorce from a woman, it would have been pretty obvious what sort of lifestyle she led...”

  A waiter came round with a tray of drinks. I snatched up a glass of champagne.

  “But you know who isn’t obvious?”

  I thanked the waiter, was barely listening to Colin.

  “Her. I still don’t believe it.”

  I turned to see who he was talking about... and nearly choked on my drink.

  It seemed like everyone in the vast space observed as Naomi Pierre glided into the room that evening — figure-hugging black dress, diamond earrings dangling and sparkling, brunette hair loose and shimmering. All eyes were on her. People stopped talking mid-sentence; drinks were not drunk, food was not chewed. She had the whole world’s attention.

  A dizzy spell came over me. I’d only managed one sip of champagne, so it couldn’t have been that. My stomach was full, so it definitely wasn’t from hunger...

  Colin and I said nothing as we watched her greet several people and receive kisses on her cheeks from peers.

  She was ravishing. Elegant, smoldering, sexy. Her bronzed legs, shapely and perfectly sculpted, were on full display. Her clutch bag tucked under her arm, she seemed to glow as she strode through the room. Alone. No date, just her.

  Should I have cared that my boyfriend of five years couldn’t take his eyes off her either? That he was close to drooling? Perhaps, but I didn’t. I honestly couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t blame any of them.

  “Such a waste...” he said, more to himself than me. He probably didn’t realize he’d said it, because that wasn’t the type of thing one said in the presence of their girlfriend. But again, I didn’t care.

  “You said you guys are good now, right? Wanna go and say hi?”

  For your benefit or mine? I wanted to ask but didn’t. What exactly was he hoping for? That he could woo her with his maleness and make her abandon her love for women altogether? Colin was a good-looking guy, but no traffic-stopper. Even if she had been straight he would never have been in her league. Not even close to her league. As for women, well I didn’t think anyone would be good enough for someone like her. Every woman would feel intimidated by her beauty, her radiance.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She won’t like that.” Why would she talk to me, a nobody in a room full of somebodies? She saw me five days a week and didn’t speak to me much. Why would she start now?

  My problem was that I never knew when to stop staring at her. Just one more second, I would tell myself. But in that final second was when she would catch me. Then I’d scramble to look away, making me seem even more guilty. I’d lost count of the amount of times this had happened. You’d think I would have quit ogling her or at least honed my skill by now.

  So when she finished a conversation with some old rich guy and his wife, turned around and saw me for the first time, our eyes met across the room.

  There were no butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I would have been lucky for those. No, try crows. Butterflies were light, unobtrusive. But crows, they came heavy and rapid, violently flapping at my abdomen; unwelcome, uninvited. I’d never felt the butterflies, not with Colin or anyone before him, so I was ill-prepared for the crows. No one had warned me about them. No poems or songs had been written about them. But I knew exactly what they meant all the same.

  Look away, I scolded myself inwardly. Look away before it’s too late. You can still save yourself.

  It was no use. She was too mesm
erizing. So the crows continued tormenting me, right up to the point when she strode across the room to us. In my peripheral vision I saw Colin fix his hair quickly.

  My mouth was sealed to my champagne glass when she arrived.

  “Good evening, Dakota,” she said, her eyes and tone mischievously playful.

  Dakota. This was the first time she’d used my first name. I’d started to suspect she didn’t know it.

  “H—hi,” I said in the teeniest voice, never removing the glass from my mouth. What an idiot I must have seemed to her.

  She turned to Colin. “We know each other, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do. I’m a lawyer for the company.” To my surprise his voice sounded as frail as mine! “Colin.” They shook hands, and I noticed his was slightly trembling.

  “Well I’m sure you know who I am,” she said confidently.

  He guffawed. “Yes, everyone knows who you are.”

  I was getting second hand embarrassment from him... and first hand embarrassment from myself, because I still didn’t have the courage to move the glass from my lips.

  “Are you enjoying your evening so far?” Colin continued.

  “I am.” She found us amusing, pathetic, I just knew it. That smile, though perfect, was not the friendly one Colin probably thought it was. We were insignificant to her, and she was simply humoring us by talking to us. “Are you enjoying that drink, Dakota?”

  She knew I was attempting to hide behind it. Oh my God, I wanted to crawl away and die!

  It was a hypothetical question, obviously. She addressed Colin again, “So how did you two meet?”

  Colin’s tone was so ingratiating, so eager to please, it made me want to puke. “Funny story, actually...”

  Please don’t say it, please don’t say it, I pleaded silently.

  Would he really be foolish enough to tell her that he’d found me bawling my eyes out on a park bench one morning while he was jogging? That a few nights earlier I’d had too much to drink, had taken my Yorkshire terrier Fifi out for a walk, and had accidentally let go of her lead? The last thing I needed was for my boss to know I’d caused my dog to run into oncoming traffic. I still wasn’t over her death.