by Jamie Knight
“Fine. Dinner is fine.”
Anxiety makes my stomach drop. Parents and grandparents don’t like me. That’s another reason why I don’t meet them. They always want to talk about what plans I have for their daughter — tying her up and fucking her is never the answer they want to hear.
The only thing that is making this experience bearable is that Mandy has not taken her hand off mine. That small point of warmth is helping, but I don’t want to admit that it is. I don’t want to have feelings for this pet. That’s not how I work.
“Where does this grandmother live?”
“The Bronx.” Mandy gives me a little smile like her experience with my father is forgotten. “You can call her Bubby.”
I remember the name from the inscription on the little cat in Mandy’s cubical, but I laugh anyway. “Oh, I doubt I can. It’s too silly.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mandy
After I let us into Bubby’s place, Christian stares around him like he has never been in an apartment so small and cluttered. His eyes settle on the orange and brown macramé wall hanging my grandmother made in the 70s,’ and the look of distaste he has on his face almost makes me laugh. He is such a snob; too bad I’m totally obsessed with him.
“I’m sure my grandmother will be right out,” I tell him. “Go ahead and have a seat.” I gesture to the couch which is overflowing with multiple colored throw pillows — none that match — and several blankets of assorted types and textures.
Christian eyes it. His blonde eyebrows shoot up his forehead and then his eyes narrow. His full lips drop into a deeper frown. He seems fairly convinced that the couch is not okay to sit on. Maybe he thinks it is too old. It’s hard for me to say. Instead, he pulls out a wooden chair from the table and sinks into it. I take the chair next to him, pulling it out so I can face him with our knees almost touching.
“It really isn’t necessary for me to meet your family,” he starts after we sit in silence for a few minutes. “We don’t have that kind of situation.”
I look into his eyes and see a flash of desire there. He must be remembering something good because he reaches a large hand out and grabs my waist. Putting my hands up, I push a bit against his shoulders, but I know the struggle is useless. He pulls me off my chair until I am standing between his legs. His lips are inches away from the sensitive skin of my breasts. I can hear and feel his soft breath.
A loud slam causes us both to jump away from each other. Christian stands. Neither one of us had noticed that Bubby had come into the room. She stands at the entrance to the hallway, another book in her hand poised to be dropped. Once she is sure that she has our attention, she sets the book down slowly.
“It is absolutely necessary that you meet Amanda’s family,” she says seriously. The sternness of her face is cold. Her eyes are icy.
Her reaction throws me off a bit, and I find myself stepping back towards Christian, bumping into him. Bubby isn’t dressed in her usual, colorful way either. She is wearing an elegant, but simple, black cocktail dress and a string of pearls. I’ve never seen her wear anything so conservative. Somehow it feels like she is dressed up as a character.
A giggle escapes my lips. It echoes in the silent room. It’s like the tension has jumped up to twenty-thousand times what it was before. I stifle my uncomfortable laughter and turn to look up at Christian.
He looks less sure of himself. His frown changes into something different, something more twisted. Now he looks like a pouty child who has just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to — like stealing from the cookie jar — and doesn’t want to be punished. With a slight shake of his head, he reaches his hand out to Bubby.
“I’m Christian Keeley.”
His frown never changes. He looks as uncomfortable as a man can get, and I regret bringing him here. Even though my grandmother was insistent, I should have made up some sort of excuse. He’s never going to accept my family.
Bubby takes his hand in a gentle manner, pressing the tips of her fingers around his and shaking quickly. Once the handshake is done, she doesn’t let go. “Elizabeth Burmmell. Mr. Keeley, I welcome any friend of Mandy’s to my house.” Bubby pulls Christian’s hand towards her until he has to lean forward — his face inches from hers. “You are Mandy’s friend?”
“Ah,” Christian stutters. My grandmother lets go of his hand, leaving him a bit off-kilter. “I’m a partner at McKenzie Tech. Mandy is working for me.”
Bubby puts her hands on her hips. She raises one of her bleach-blonde eyebrows, turning from one of us then to the other. “You are working together? Overnight? On a Friday? And a Saturday?”
Christian shrugs. Although he does it all the time, in this instance, the gesture looks juvenile. “Well, we were. Our work plans had to be put off.”
Keeping us both in her sights, Bubby scans our faces. I find myself rubbing my hands on my skirt. My palms are damp with sweat even though the room isn’t warm. Bubby tends to be a wild card, and after Christian neglected to tell his father about our relationship, I have the feeling that he will be offended by my grandmother easily.
“Hmm,” she grunts, reaching out to tap him lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
Christian shoots me a glance. His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Believe what?”
Bubby doesn’t answer his question. Instead, she saunters towards the kitchen. “Set the table, Amanda. Mr. Keeley, have a seat at the table, anywhere you like. Dinner will be served shortly.”
I think what Bubby serves is a duck. As with all her food, it’s dry, tough, and hard to chew. Most of our dinner is silent and awkward. Occasionally, Bubby starts discussing one of her new projects as Christian and I pretend to listen. Presently, she’s explaining the finer points of cabinet making while waving her fork full of duck in the air.
Listening to her is impossible. Her words go in one ear and out the other while I stare at Christian’s face wondering what he is thinking and how much he must be judging me. Bubby’s not the kind of woman he would find in his family.
After her monologue on woodworking, silence falls again. The only noise comes from the sound of silverware scraping on the china and the occasional yowl from Pumpkin. My kitten has decided that she likes Christian and wants all of his attention. For a while, she tried to jump into his lap, he didn’t seem to mind, but Bubby wouldn’t allow it while we are eating. She’s acting very formal. Now, Pumpkin has to be content to rub on Christian’s ankles. Something she does excessively.
“Go on, Punk,” Bubby complains, leaning down and waving her frail hand at the cat.
Pumpkin ignores her, yowls, and hops up slightly to rub her chin on Christian’s knee.
With Bubby distracted, I mouth the words “I’m sorry” across the table. Christian shrugs. His lips pull up in amusement. “Not a problem,” he mouths back then leans over the table some. With his fork, he tries to spear one of the little round tomatoes on my plate. At first try, it rolls away.
When he tries again, Bubby’s fork slams into Christian’s surprising us both. I feel my breath go out in a whoosh. My grandmother has a deep frown on her face. Her expression is the most serious that I have ever seen.
“You have enough on your plate, Christian.” The tone of her voice is that of a disappointed mother. “You don’t need to take from Mandy. Mind your manners.”
I can’t catch my breath. I’m expecting him to explode. My grandmother just admonished my boss like he is a three-year-old.
Christian’s face is pale. His mouth hangs open then snaps shut. I can see a range of emotions pass behind his eyes. “I…ah…I didn’t mean any harm, Mrs. Burmmell.” A slight blush covers his cheeks. “I…ah…I didn’t think that Mandy wanted it.”
I nod my head. “It’s not a big deal, Bubby.”
She smiles at us both, dropping her fork as she sits back. One of her hands goes up to twist her fingers in her string of pearls. “It is a big deal. Don’t just take thi
ngs because you can, Christian. You need to think about those around you.” She grunts quietly. “I would have expected your parents to have raised you better.”
He lets out a choked laugh. Bubby and I glance at each other, not sure what is going on. Christian keeps laughing, going from a strangled sound to a hearty chuckle. “That’s just it, Mrs. Burmmell,” he says the words between guffaws, “My parents didn’t raise me. The help did.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Bubby nods. “And they let you take anything that you wanted?”
Christian takes a few breaths. He sits back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face. “No, ma’am. They taught me right.” Blinking his eyes a bit, he spaces out. “I learned to be greedy later.”
I glance at both my grandmother and Christian. He doesn’t seem offended, but still, I’m not sure how he is feeling or what he is thinking about all this. I want Bubby to shut up. I want her to act like a normal grandmother and talk about knitting or something.
The silence stretches. I find my body shaking with nerves. All I want is for these two people to get along, but they come from such different worlds. I’m just kidding myself to think that Christian thinks of me romantically. After tonight, he will probably think I am a freak destined to be as batty as my grandmother.
To my absolute horror, Christian stands. He nods formally to both of us. Whatever emotion he was feeling earlier is gone from his face. “I need to be on my way, Mrs. Burmmell.” He sets his napkin down on the table. I get up to beg him to not go, but he waves a hand to stop me. “Don’t bother showing me to the door. I know where it is. Thank you again for dinner. Mandy, I will see you at the office on Monday.”
He’s out the door in seconds, with Pumpkin yowling her displeasure at his sudden departure. I feel the same way, but I don’t want to start crying in front of Bubby.
She takes a sip of water and clears her throat. “Poor boy doesn’t know who he is or what he is doing.” Bubby shakes her head slowly, sadly.
“What?”
She looks over at me like she’s just realized that I am there and gives me a smile. “Don’t worry, doll.” She reaches out a thin hand and pinches my cheek. “Love will help him figure it out.”
Her words startle me. “Bubby, Christian isn’t in love with me.”
She laughs slightly. “Of course, he is. How could you doubt it? He just doesn’t know it yet.”
I want to believe her, but I can’t. If Christian had any real feelings for me, he would have stayed; he would have told his father that I was his date or girlfriend or something — not his accountant. I stare at my plate, feeling like I can’t move. So many emotions are rolling through me.
Bubby starts humming a happy tune as she finishes her meal. Somehow, I find it cheering and soothing. At least I’m not alone.
“Nothing gets you down much, does it, Bubby?” I ask with a sigh.
“You gotta roll with the punches, doll.” She stands up straight and nods as if she is talking to an invisible audience. “That’s the only way to get through life, and I should know. I have years of experience.”
As I watch her pick up the plates of half-eaten dinner, suddenly, she doesn’t seem as odd to me. My grandmother is a very cool woman. I will be lucky to turn out like her. Christian should have realized that. He shouldn’t have left.
Chapter Fifteen
Mandy
The happy yips and barks of the pugs on Monday morning cannot seem to get me out of my stupor. I can’t stop thinking of the awkward weekend between Christian and me. I want to know what he thought then, what he is thinking now, and most importantly, if our relationship is over. Not that it ever was a relationship, to begin with.
“Earth to Mandy!”
I look up, all the way up into Eileen’s face and flinch a bit. Apparently, I was ignoring her, so she’s actually come over into my cubical and is sitting next to me on my desk. I had no idea that she was there. I really must have been spaced out.
“What?” I shake my head and blink my eyes at her.
“I’ve told you about a million times that Reese is on her way downstairs with the baby and she wants to know if we want to take a coffee break or get an early lunch.”
I glance at my computer screen. I want there to be a blinking message on the Watercooler app, something from Christian telling me to come to the basement. So far this morning, there has been nothing.
“Are you game?!” Eileen says this very loudly. Apparently, I was ignoring her again.
Suddenly nervous, I shrug my shoulders, get up — displacing Ms. Puggle from my lap —and look over to the elevator that I just heard opening. I want it to be Christian, but it’s not. It’s Reese with Kaylyn wrapped in her arms. She sees me looking and waves. Eileen waves back. My tall friend stands and makes kissy noises at the pugs, gathering them to get their leashes on.
My heart is pounding. I feel twitchy. Usually, going to get coffee with my friends would be a no-brainer, but I can’t stop hoping that Christian will show up or call me and tell me to get down to the basement. I’m too anxious to know how things stand between him and I. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything else. I keep glancing at my computer, hoping to see the Watercooler app flashing.
“Are you okay, Mandy?” Reese is behind me. She gives me a quick smile and then looks back to her cooing baby. “Ready to go?”
I can’t go yet; I just need a few more minutes to see what Christian is going to do. Glancing at my computer one more time, I think up a plan. “I need to finish an Excel sheet really quick. Why don’t the two of you walk up and see if Sloane wants to join us?”
Reese purses her lips like she is considering what I suggested. “She’s been really busy lately, but I’m sure it never hurts to ask. Do what you need. We’ll be right back.”
My breath starts to slow as they head to the CFA’s office. I’m not sure what to do, but at least I have a few minutes to think. I don’t want to pressure Christian, but I can’t stop myself from opening Watercooler and our private chat.
Are you there? I type. Nothing happens. No response. Christian? There is no answer and no indication that there will be. Maybe he didn’t come into work today. Maybe he is sick. Maybe he is really done with me and ignoring me. I’m just not sure, and it is tearing me up.
“You must be Mandy!”
The person speaking behind me makes me jump. I close Watercooler as quickly as I can, turn my chair and look up at a black man in a brightly colored suit, and tortoiseshell glasses. He gives me a warm, friendly grin.
I find myself smiling back despite my confusion. “Why, yes, I am. How can I help you?” I stand and offer my hand.
He takes my hand, pulls me into a quick hug, and then holds my shoulders so he can look me up and down. “My, my! Christian said you were little, but he did not say that you were cute as a button! Look at those big brown eyes!”
I find myself stuttering. “Christian said? I’m sorry. I have no idea who you are.”
He turns me and puts an arm around my shoulders like he is my new big brother. “I’m Rodney! You, sweet thing, have had the honor of setting up my desk, and I’m very thankful to you.”
I nod — the pieces starting to click in my mind — and let Christian’s second-in-command lead me toward Sloane’s office. Rodney still has his arm around my shoulder. His easy-going, friendly personality has me relaxed and smiling. Plus, if Rodney is here, then that explains Christian’s neglect.
“Are you moving in today?” I ask.
Rodney gives an exaggerated sigh. “Nope. The boss says he needs more time. Still!” He hugs my shoulders a bit and sets his head on top of mine for a minute as we walk. “I’d swear that he just wants more alone time with you, miss cutie, but we both know that it’s not the case. Sadly, my boy doesn’t date.”
My stomach drops. I want to stop and freeze, but I also don’t want to let Rodney know that I’m upset. I’m sure his comment wasn’t meant to be mean. He doesn’t know what the situation is between Christian and I. Hell, I
don’t know what the situation is between us.
“He doesn’t date?” I squeak, annoyed at how desperate my voice is sounding.
Movement ahead of us catches my attention. I see the head of blonde hair I’ve been hoping to see all morning. He is standing outside of his sister’s office, talking to my friends. His back is turned to me, but I know that it's Christian. I can feel his body in every cell of mine like it’s calling to me.
I want to yell at him for leaving my grandmother’s early and for leaving me unsure of what is going on. I, also, want to run into his arms, declare my love, and tell everyone we are together.
Next to me, Rodney sighs exaggeratedly. “Nope. I’ve known Christian for ten years, and he’s never had a girlfriend, just trysts. He has this stupid saying about feelings being a waste of time and that we should just use people then leave them when we get bored.” He shrugs with his arm still over my shoulders. “I don’t know how he does it. I fall in love with everyone I meet.”
I feel like I am choking, but I keep my movements and my face as normal as I can. There is no way that I can let on to Rodney or anyone else around that I suddenly feel like I am dying.
“That is sad,” I mumble.
As we continue toward Sloane’s office, Rodney leans his head on mine again. “I hope we can be friends Mandy. Christian said you were one of the coolest people here. That you’re always all smiles.”
I try to summon a smile to my face to prove him right. It feels like a strained grin, but I keep it plastered there. “Of course, I’d love to be your friend, Rodney.”
When we come up behind him, Christian turns around. He’s holding Mr. Pugsly in his arms and scratching the pup behind his ears. Watching him makes me want to faint. I know that I am in love with him. But if he hates feelings, he is not in love with me, and that thought is killing me.
Rodney throws up his arms and gasps. “There are pugs here! No one told me that there would be pugs here!”
