Chapter 44 #4
No more than twenty minutes later, I’m back in front of the shining building that beckons me, just as a sea of commuters’ part around my inconvenient position on the sidewalk.
I gaze down at the parting gift from the lady with the jet-black hair in the plum blazer.
A minimalistic business card reading only her name, Margaret Steely.
Regardless of any compulsory compliments, this interview was a fruitless attempt.
It was quite clear from the beginning, that my lack of experience wasn't what they were looking for.
After plastering on my service smile and retrieving the “better luck next time” token, I leave.
Might as well throw all my stuff in this trash can.
No… NO. We aren’t using the monster voice anymore, Cindel.
Positive thinking. I take a deep breath in.
The polar air makes my nose instantly start running.
Right now, I just want to go home and lick my wounds.
Be that as it may, I told Andrea I would meet everyone for lunch, after the interview.
She made me ‘promise’ this morning. “No matter how things go… You’re coming,” she demanded.
As usual, I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
Arranging for another car to pick me up, I head across town, to the address Andrea gave me this morning.
It was a new place, best known for their Baja-inspired small plates and fruity cocktails, according to reviews.
The silver lining to this bleak outing was, I may beat everyone there, allowing me time to drown my sorrows in a lavender-colored guava drink.
It better come with a paper umbrella, like the menu indicated online.
No one is ever glum with a miniature parasol!
Now I just have to figure out how to circumvent any questions about the worthless interview.
Well just my luck… traffic is terrible. I arrived no earlier than the set time and the restaurant appears incredibly busy.
Groups of people wait to be seated, while the hostess seems to disappear for long stints, causing the line to snake out the door.
I take it upon myself to take a look around, just in case anyone else arrived before me.
Every table I passed is occupied beneath an endless strand of zigzagging lights.
Wooden shelves adorn a massive brick wall, holding no less than fifty miniature cacti.
All the while, vibrant murals pull your focus in every which direction.
It was a visually pleasing orgy of color and light.
On top of it, the food smelled incredible!
My mouth salivates as I make my way through the establishment, feeling better with each new discovery.
Why have I never checked this place out before?
On my second loop around laughing patrons and plated tacos, I am ready to give up on the search when I notice a pink neon sign that read: The Patron Room.
Maybe they rented a space in the back, since we were a larger party?
I slide the massive wooden door along the metal track, revealing a room with an oval table, covered in every possible small plate you could order off the menu.
The feast had velvet, fuchsia chairs surrounding the perimeter, but not a single person within the room.
Enticing smells invite me inside the secluded space.
All at once, the door slides shut with a thud and I spin around to find, I’m no longer alone.
Dax stands before me, in a form fitting, button-down shirt and perfectly tailored slacks.
His finger hooks a matching dark jacket, slung just over his shoulder and my breath catches.
Damn it all to hell, if he doesn’t look more god than man in that form fitted attire.
Silent as always, he approaches, stopping beside me to pull out a chair.
“Where is everyone?” I inquire, ignoring the offered seat. I sidestep him, setting my heavy bag into another vacant seat, and refuse to sit.
As if it’s all a game, he rounds the table, pulling out the seat directly in front of me and lowers himself into it.
He fills the pinkish furniture, leaning forward onto his elbows, while bringing his hands together to create points among his fingertips, then simply shrugs.
The miniscule smirk in the corner of his mouth and slightly raised eyebrow, however, tells me this was always the plan and I fell for it.
That conniving… I know exactly who will be taking out the apartment’s trash for the next six months. He gestures for me to sit.
“You know… I just don’t think I can do this. Great catching up.” I spin on my heel, ready to flee the room, but he’s out of his seat and before me, in an instant.
“Cindel,” a graveled voice whispers. My heart stops. “Please.” The words are soft and deep; however they sound as if laced with pain.
“Can you speak?”
He rubs at his throat and nods. His intense gaze shifts toward the floor. I clench my teeth.
“Please…” I beg, with what little air I can muster. “Tell me that you haven’t been able to talk this entire time…” Despite his towering presence, I steel my spine. Arms locking over my chest, I back just far enough away...
He reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out his phone, and opens a prewritten message.
Eyes meeting mine, he presses play. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.
I’ve spent so long pretending I’m someone I’m not, I lost sight of myself.
It’s not an excuse, I know that… but I’m trying to right the wrongs.
Repair what's been broken. Even if it takes the rest of my life. I’m sorry.
” I can feel myself unraveling as his automated words continue.
“I’ve sought help. To speak again. Some days hurt more than others, but I’m able to vocalize a few words a day.
The specialist believes I’ll get better with time, although never quite the same as before. ”
It’s hard to believe anything he says! Whether it's from his text to speech app or from his mouth. This is beyond mending, no matter the apology.
His eyes bounce back and forth, assessing me.
Likely looking for any indication of how I feel.
No longer am I brittle. Closer to stone.
Yet still empty. Hardening myself in spite of life's cruelty.
For survival. For me. His pupils grow wide, seeming to realize my stance, his thumbs dance over the screen of the phone.
“Did you get the job?” The message asks.
I bite my tongue fighting the urge to curse or even scream.
My mouth hurts. My shoulders ache. My resolve is weakening.
“I’m so fucking tired,” I say more to myself than the man in front of me.
I look past Dax. Down to the chair where my messenger bag resides.
Papers peek from the corners of the flap, so full of ideas.
I was such an optimistic soul. Full of hope laced with a sad desire to prove myself.
Even these past sketches no longer reflect the person I’ve become.
Still focused on the sac of my former self, I shake my head no.
Long moments pass before I glance back up to his face.
My stomach twists. How is it that he seems more destroyed than me?
I’m the one who was handed the better luck next time, business card.
I take my pretty painted nails, which I did just for the interview, and press them into the palms of my hand.
I tighten my fists, staying this way until they feel numb. Savoring the sting which grounds me.
“Thank you,” I proclaim. “Andrea hinted it was you, who applied. You can stop trying to help me. I need to do this alone.”
His eyes narrow. In a heartbeat, Dax steps forward, closing the space between us.
The first few buttons on his shirt are undone and he smells even more appealing than the wafting scent of cumin and chili powder in the private space.
Mere inches apart, I lift my chin, meeting his intense steely gaze.
“You’ve. Never. Been. Alone.” Each word is sharp.
His deep voice resonates with torment. In one fell swoop, he drops himself to the bright chair, taking me with him.
My legs straddle his lap and he scoots us toward the table.
He positioned his phone to rest against one of the plates of food before us.
I’m caged between the table and his body.
If I’m going to be forced to be here, I might as well fill one of my needs.
I reach for a mini empanada, paying no mind to manners or anything other than the impending flavors reaching my mouth.
I hum as I chew, happy to finally taste something from the spread of delicious foods.
Beneath me, I can feel his chest rumble, unsure if he’s flustered by my unwillingness to cooperate or something else entirely.
With the phone resting horizontally before us, he reaches past, opening up the pictures app.
Making his selection, he presses the center play button…
The song “Otherside,” from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, plays along with a slideshow.
Each photo has me in it. Whether I’m walking past the hot dog cart on my way to work or feeding ducks by the lake at the park.
I’m the subject. Some shots were way before I ever found the earbud.
Like the one of me and my brother, arm in arm on the steps of my high school after graduation.
The empanada was hard to swallow as I discovered just how wrong I was about everything.
He didn’t start watching me recently... he’s been stalking me even before I was an adult!
I need to get out of here, my flight winning over my fight.
“Thanks for validating you’re a creep! I’m leaving.”
As I go to rise off him, his arms lock around me like a vise.