Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re awfully short.” Max, the man training me, throws a look over his shoulder. I just met him today, and I was struck at first by his presence. He seemed chill and like nothing bothered him. So different than anyone I grew up around.
I stride to keep up with him. The manufacturing plant is still loud, even though it’s midnight.
“Yeah, well. So are you.”
Max laughs and throws a look back. For a second, I’m afraid I’ve pissed him off. But then, I catch the teasing glint in his eye. “Real original there, short stack.”
I snort. I just got this job. I graduated with an English degree, but jobs in that field are few and far between.
I was offered a job as a personal assistant at this manufacturing plant, but I didn’t want to get stuck there, jumping to do the bidding of lazy men who couldn’t do it themselves.
So when I saw a security guard opening pop up in the same company, I jumped at it.
And shockingly, I got it. I’m sure they had a diversity quota to meet, but still, I’m here.
Max shows me all around the plant. It’s a fucking maze, and I know without a doubt I’ll get lost a few times before I can get everything down.
He keeps up the light banter the whole time, and despite the fact that it’s my first day, I feel at ease.
Max is easy to talk to. Like my childhood friend, Kimmy was.
On lunch break, Max takes me to the large front office. It’s nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto a pond with a fountain. It’s surprisingly bright in here.
“I usually keep the lights off.” Max waves at the space. “I don’t know, it’s kinda peaceful.”
I sit on the end of a couch, opening up my lunchbox.
“So. You Amish or something?”
I glance up at Max. He raises an eyebrow from under his security ballcap.
He’s cute, and I find myself feeling a weird fluttering in my stomach, which I immediately stomp down.
I didn’t date much in college. Secretly, I wanted to, but…
I don’t know. Hard to meet a guy when you spend every spare minute in a book.
“No?” I furrow my brows at him.
“Oh. Well, you just didn’t know what movie I was talking about, and it’s like… a fucking classic.” Max takes a sip of his coffee.
I flush. Mom and Dad didn’t let me watch much TV. They thought it was sinful and would rot my brain.
I mutter, “I didn’t see it.”
“Okay. Amish girl,” Max mutters, grabbing a cookie from his bag. But it’s not said with the same biting tone my dad uses. It’s more of a tease.
It’s been lonely since college. I kept to myself and focused on my classes, and now that I’ve graduated, I try to keep as far away from my parents as possible.
When I was a kid, I told Mom about Dad hitting me, and she just laughed and said she hoped it taught me some sense.
She never seemed happy, even though she claimed she loved homeschooling me. Every day was tense.
But that’s not how I feel around Max. He has an oddly relaxing presence, like deep down, he doesn't give a shit what I do or say.
“Whatever, Magdaline. Martha. Mary?” Max peers at me with squinted eyes.
“Celeste.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“No, I could have sworn the Amish don’t use names like that.” He pauses.
I smile around my bite of food. It feels awkward, and I stop immediately.
“Oh, she does smile!” Max grins widely now. “Okay, tell me what movies you have seen.”
I hesitate. I don’t watch much.
“I uh… mostly read books.”
There’s a pause, and then Max clasps his chest in mock horror. “Christ, woman! You’re not helping yourself here.”
This time, I smile fully.
He interrogates me about what I’ve done, which isn’t a lot.
Max is horrified that I went to a religious college, that I haven’t drank yet, and that I am a nerd.
I keep the fact that I’ve only dated one person to myself.
I especially keep it quiet that all we did was hold hands.
I’m getting the picture that non-religious people don’t understand.
Not that I’m religious anymore. Not really.
It’s hard to stick with a god who demands kids get beaten and laughs about it.
“Just one shot. Please. I want to be there when you take it.” Max is actually begging with the praying hands. “You can choose the alcohol.”
“Okay, fine,” I laugh. What can it hurt? Just one won’t make me like my dad.
“Fuck yeah!” Max pumps the air.
As we get up to get back to work, Max elbows me in the side. “Just saying. You’d be a cute Amish girl.”
I laugh, then catch the glint of the moonlight against his wedding band. Wait, he’s married?
Instantly, I sober.
“What’s wrong?” Max asks.
“Nothing.” I straighten. Why is he acting like this if he’s married?
Maybe he’s just being friendly. Right? Is this how people make friends?
Over the next few months, I learn the plant forwards and backwards.
I could walk it in my sleep, and I’m pretty sure I did a few times.
Max is on shift with me a lot, and he leaves little sticky notes around the building, giving me movie suggestions.
After ignoring the first few, I started writing a book suggestion underneath it, and eventually, he started buying the books.
He updates me on which chapter he’s in, and then I start watching his movies.
They’re crass. Not the kind of movies my dad or my church would have approved of, but I feel an odd thrill watching them. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.
Max always seems to know when I have a bad day, and he leaves stupid jokes in my lunchbox. Even though they make me cringe, they also make me laugh. I learn that he is, in fact, bald. A fact I give him endless shit for.
The day after my probation ends, Max and my other coworkers invite me to a pool party, where I take a shot of tequila at Max’s request.
It’s nasty. But everyone cheers, and that makes me feel warm.
I finally have friends.
I tell myself I can just have a few drinks, and then I’ll stop.
I look around the pool at the coworkers I’ve come to know over the past few months.
Two of them are in the water, trying to drown each other in a drunken, sloppy way, and the rest are standing around the fire with me, cheeks flushed.
I smell the scent of alcohol, and it makes my knee bounce.
But then Max throws me a covert wink from across the fire, and immediately, everything feels okay again.
It’ll be fine. Right? For sure. I’m not my dad.
I lean into the party, the alcohol making me loose. I take a few more shots, riding the high of the buzz. Who knew drinking could be this fun? I feel relaxed… happy.
Eventually, people start leaving. I’m not sure why since I’m still having fun. At some point, Max drags me into the water. The crisp water crashes over my head, and as soon as I pop back up, I gasp. Max is beside me, sucking in a breath, and I splash him. “Hey!”
He throws his head back and laughs.
“Okay, lovebirds.” One of my older coworkers is suddenly at the edge of the pool. “We’re going inside. Don’t drown, yeah?”
I frown. Lovebirds? But the world is spinning, and Max just laughs. “Leaving already, ya old fuck?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I grip the side of the pool, enjoying the way the water washes over me.
Max hangs on beside me, grinning at me. “You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not!” Am I acting drunk? Sure, maybe I’m happier than normal, but I thought I was handling it well.
Max just laughs. “Okay, whatever you say, Magdalene.”
I splash him again.
For a while, we just sit there, listening to the thud of the music inside.
The lapping of the water and the moving of the lights on the pool edges are mesmerizing, and I just stand at the edge of the pool, watching them.
Everything feels so peaceful. I had no idea that alcohol could make things so… warm.
Suddenly, Max is in front of me. He is so close that his skin brushes up against my hand that’s gripping the edge of the pool. For a second, I’m frozen, staring at where we’re touching.
“You’re fun.”
I lift my gaze to Max, and he’s smiling, but it looks…different.
Confusion mixes in my gut.
“I’m so glad I got to train you.” Suddenly, Max moves and presses me against the wall of the pool.
I suck in a breath, feeling his hot skin all over mine.
“What–”
His hand lifts, dripping water down, and he traces it along my jaw.
I’m frozen again. This doesn’t feel right. The spark of the physical touch feels stolen.
I try to squeeze away, my back grinding against the pool’s edge. Max stops me, his arm blocking my movement, which makes me freeze up more.
He says nothing; he just looks into my eyes. His pupils are blown, and I hate the jump of attraction that I feel. He’s married. Why is he doing this?
I realize that his free hand has moved, and he’s tracing it down my neck.
“Max…” I try to push away again, but he just sticks to me, the water making it easy for him to glide with me.
“Raven.” His lips are so close I can feel his hot breath. Actually, my whole body feels hot, and I feel like the pool is floating along with me. I’m floating in the pool that’s floating, on the world that’s floating. And spinning. And it’s so, so hot.
There's pressure moving down my collarbone. Then, something brushes my nipple. “You’re so fucking smart and funny. I wish I had met you a long time ago.”
I suck in a gasp. “Max!” But my body feels stuck. I like the words he’s saying, but fear also laces me. He’s so much bigger than I am. Suddenly, it feels like I’m a kid again, and I can’t fight back. I’m not strong enough. He’ll push me underwater and drown me.
Suddenly, Max’s hand is on my pussy, and I let out a strangled cry. I thrash, trying to get out of the space.
“Shit!”
My back grinds against the edge of the pool. Then, Max is gone.
“Raven, are you okay?”
I’m ripping myself away, my whole body hot and the world spinning. “Your wife,” is all I can say. Why is he doing this? He has a wife.
I get to the stairs. Max doesn’t follow me, and the rush of relief fills me.
I got away.
Max just grabs the edge of the pool, hanging his head.
All my muscles tremble, and I have no control over them. Max is my friend. Why is he putting me in this position?
He just stays in his spot, head down.
With a rush of fear, I realize that he’s mad at me. I scramble to grab a towel, terrified he’ll grab me and drag me back in.
But he doesn’t.
The next day, Max lets me know he’ll have to stop talking to me and that he has some things to work out with his wife.
The next few months are a shitshow. I lost the only friend I have, and rightfully so. I’m angry at him, and I hate him for what he did. Why couldn’t it just stay like it was?
Unfortunately, Max still works the same job as me. The same shift as me. Every now and again, he still leaves me notes. In those notes, he talks about how much he misses me. How amazing I am, and how much he wants to keep me.
I throw every single one away. They make me sad and so, so angry. Then, after I throw them away, I go back to my apartment, completely alone. The silence is stifling, and the guilt is even worse. I should have known better.
Eventually, Max separates from his wife, and I see him every day. Every damn day, he’s apologizing. Telling me how much I had led him on. And I believe him. Because I did. I wanted friendship more than I cared about anyone else.
And on a bad day, I find a note with a movie recommendation. I snarl, writing a book recommendation under it where the woman kills her cheating husband.
The next day, I find another. And I give another similar recommendation.
Then it happens again and again and again until I’m less mad and more lonely. We start taking our lunch breaks together. I don’t say a word, and I make sure he knows just how mad at him I am.
Max always accepts the silence and gives me his pack of animal crackers after.
I hang out with my other coworkers with him there. I make sure he sees just how much fun I’m having without him.
Only I’m not. I’m not fucking happy. I’m miserable. I’m miserable and alone, and I have no friends, and my days are full of empty hallways and machine rooms all day, every day. Birthday? Hallway. Couldn’t sleep all night? Machine room. Almost lit my kitchen on fire? Bathroom.
And Max is always there. One day, I can’t take it any longer. I run into Max in the boiler room.
“Oh, hey, Martha.” His voice is quiet and sad.
“That’s not my name, and you know it,” I snap.
“Sorry.” He twists his hands.
I turn to go, and Max says, “Hey, I liked the end of that book.”
I freeze, hand on the door.
“The main character was badass. Killing him with his own house keys.”
I should go. There are more hallways to walk. But just hearing someone else’s voice instead of the thoughts that circle my own over and over feels like a balm. Slowly, I turn back around.
“Listen, you have every reason to hate me. It’s fine. But you haven’t given me a new book in weeks. I’ve reread your others like twice.”
I glare at him. He gives me a shy look. Tension fills the air. It feels like so much rides on this one thing, and I see the lines at the corners of his eyes tighten.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” He starts to turn, and against every instinct, I want him to stop. I want to talk to him about books. I don’t care that it’s him; I just want someone to talk to.
After that night, we start talking again and then form an on-again, off-again relationship.
Eventually, one night, we get hammered, and he takes my virginity on my couch. He leaves me at 3am, bleeding, drunk, and scared.
I hold onto my career like a lifeline. It’s the one thing I built for myself, and I’ll be damned if I lose it. I try to get different shifts, but he always ends up working around me. And I’m always alone. And every time, he sits with me in the loneliness.
Never once does Max hit me.