desk. And then...
....Nothing.
Nothing happened at all. The calm disturbed her and began to play tricks on her mind. She imagined Val hiding under the desk with a knife waiting to stab her in the stomach. Val wasn’t under the desk, but Marion looked twice just to make sure. Next, she imagined Val coming around the corner with a shotgun. Val would be screaming about how she just wanted to be friends and then blow Marion’s head off before taking her own life. So far that hadn’t happened either.
Cautiously, Marion unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the computer cords. She felt someone watching as she bent down to plug the two cords in, but when she sat back down there was nobody there.
She tried to do some work but couldn’t concentrate. So, excusing herself (to no one in particular), Marion got up and walked around the corner. Val wasn’t there. Not only that, but it looked like someone had cleared off her desk and her computer was missing.
Marion returned to her desk. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had called the monster’s bluff and lived to tell the tale.
For a while, the potluck had gone well. Everyone seemed to like the salmon spread. Frank, whose diet usually consisted of donuts and fast food eaten between investigations, piled his plate high with the stuff. Gail was still giving her the cold shoulder, but to Marion’s delight, also seemed to enjoy the dish.
No one talked to her, and for that Marion was grateful. She did like to listen to other people talk, though. Just sitting together, eating good food, and telling reminded her of village life back home.
Suddenly the room went quiet and all eyes turned toward the door.
Val stood in the doorway. She looked disheveled. Her breath was heavy and labored. She looked crazed with feral eyes. But the most frightening thing about Val was the smell. The fumes hit Marion like a tidal wave. The sickly sweet smell of booze oozed out of her body, and she was drenched in sweat.
“What’s that god awful smell,” Val slurred. Polite society forbid anyone from answering. Val teetered forward. She began to examine the food laid out on the table. Then she grimaced and wrinkled her nose.
“It’s over here,” Val continued. “I can’t stand it. It’s making me sick.”
Marion knew what was coming. She tried to steady herself, but her resolve failed her. It was in that unforgiving moment that Marion knew why Val scared her so much—Val reminded Marion of her mother. It was like all the bad parts of her mom had been distilled into this tiny woman with the big boobs. Val was a bully, but she was also more like a kid than an adult. And that was how her mother had been when she drank—a spoiled little kid throwing a temper tantrum.
Marion didn’t need to be psychic to know what came next. Her visions of the future came from past experience.
Val stopped in front of the bowl of salmon spread. She made an exaggerated gagging sound, and then picked up the bowl.
“Oh my god,” Val said, and followed it up with more exaggerated gagging. “I hope none of you ate this.”
Val’s words were still slurred but Marion was uniquely cursed to be a fluent interpreter of drunken speech. She had, after all, learned every word of the language from her perpetual tipsy mother.
“Garbage!” Val slurred triumphantly.
And into the garbage the bowl went.
Marion was up and out of the door. She took refuge in the bathroom. There she busied herself, drying her tears on a handful of paper towels.
“It’s all your fault,” Marion heard with crystal clarity.
She hadn’t even heard Val come in. That scared her. She had been completely vulnerable. Val probably could have sneaked up on her and cut her throat, and she wouldn’t have even heard it coming. Marion wretched as the foul odor assaulted her nose.
“Your fault,” Val repeated. She said it with a drunkard’s uncertainty. Drunks, as Marion well knew, sometimes get confused with what they have actually said and what they think they have said.
Marion started to back away.
Val, despite being three sheets, was quick on her feet. Val began to circle her prey and smiled cheerfully as she did so.
Marion made a couple of more attempts to back away. Val matched her speed and blocked her escape.
“Bitch!” Val cried. “I just wanted to be your friend.”
Then Val struck out and hit Marion hard in the stomach.
Marion clutched her gut and dropped to her knees.
Val started to laugh so hard that tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“You know what your problem is?” Val cackled. “You have no sense of humor.”
Something broke inside Marion then. Her natural timidity evaporated as white hot rage boiled inside her. Marion stood up. Her stomach cried out, but rage silenced the pain.
Val stopped laughing. Her eyes went wide and she made a rush for the stalls.
It was simple for Marion to trip her. Val fell to the floor.
“I was only joking,” Val cried.
Marion had heard this excuse many times from her mom, and now it filled her with disgust. She seized Val violently by the front of her shirt.
Marion forgot just how small this woman was. Val had to strain her neck to look up at her. Why had she been scared of this tiny creature? In one quick motion, Marion spun Val around and threw her enemy against the tampon dispenser.
A bit of unreality crept in that stopped Marion dead in her tracks. She watched in fascinated horror as Val’s enormous breasts began to deflate. Then understanding came when she saw that the front of Val’s shirt had been torn open—revealing Val’s bra stuffed with crumpled up tissues.
To Marion’s amazement, Val was somehow still standing. Then she realized she was still holding Val up by the front of her torn shirt. Marion let go. Val fell with drunken grace and plopped down on her butt.
Marion was breathing hard from exertion.
Val sat on the floor. She appeared to be in a daze and a large welt began to grow on her forehead. By some instinctual modesty, Val held the front of her shirt closed at the tear.
Neither woman spoke. Marion started to weigh her options. The police weren’t going to help. Val was white. She was Native. The police would take Val’s side. Marion was done. She knew that once she started for that door she wouldn’t stop. She would walk right out of this job too. She never wanted to see Val’s stupid face again. If that meant she had to accept defeat and move back to the village... well that’s what that meant. Marion started for the door.
But Val just couldn’t let it go.
“Well don’t just stand there you stupid cunt! Help me up!”
Marion was on top of Val in a second; a few seconds later blood fountained out of Val’s nose. Marion kept hitting.
Val flopped helplessly under her, trying to break free. But Val didn’t have a chance. Her opponent easily outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. Marion kept hitting.
Val stopped struggling and began to sob.
Marion, however, was past the point of caring. All the rage that had been building up for most of her life had found a hungry release. She wasn’t going to stop. She didn’t care if she went to prison. She didn’t care if she got the electric chair. Each punch had one singular goal—to cave Val’s stupid face in.
“Marion!” A voice cried out. Strong hands grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her off her prey. She glared demonically at the idiots who had dared to stop her. When she saw Gail, all the fight left her body. It was replaced by weary exhaustion. Frank loosened his grip and let Marion gently sink to the floor.
“She hit me! She hit me!” Val screamed to all who’d listen. Despite the beating she had taken, remarkable Val was still alive and kicking. Nasty bruises were leaving their marks on her face, but all the alcohol in her system had dulled the pain (and probably saved her life).
“Valerie!” Gail shouted. Her tone was harsh and unforgiving. “You were fired, as of last Friday...”
“She hit me!” Val cried out, but her cries we
re falling on deaf ears.
“You have no business being here!” Gail shouted even louder this time.
Val had stopped sobbing. Seeing that no one was going to be sympathetic, Val changed her tune.
“I’ll call the police!” Val threatened.
“The police have already been called.” Gail answered. Her anger had cooled, but her tone was pure ice. “You are publically intoxicated. You created a public disturbance. You are trespassing on government property. You picked a fight with one of my employees... need I go on?”
That put Val in her place. She sat up and wiped her bloody nose with the back of her hand. She glanced over at Frank in a vain hope that he would show some sympathy to her plight. Her hopes were dashed as Frank remained silent and expressionless.
In a loud snort, Val sucked the blood back into her nose and started to get to her feet. Frank was at her side in case she fell, but she pushed him back and used the sink counter to steady herself.
“I’m going to sue,” Val said as she opened the door. “I’m going to sue the State into the ground.”
Val exited quickly.
She didn’t get far, as the police waited for her outside.
Later, much later after many questions from the police, and many more tears, Marion and Gail sat alone in the breakroom.
“It’s not your fault,” Gail began.
Marion’s response was automatic. She nodded. The nod didn’t mean she was necessarily in agreement. She nodded just to respond.
“And I’m sorry I’ve been so cold to you lately,” Gail continued.
Marion nodded again.
“You have to
Accident Prone: A Novel Page 13
