CHAPTER 22
I thought it might feel weird being back at the office, but I think I’ve done a superb job of blocking out what happened to me.
It happened.
It’s over.
I’m fine.
Life goes on.
I’m sure this paint and sip with my tenants will ease me back into a state of normality. Nevermind the fact that I haven’t been able to sleep since it occurred. I’m running off of caffeine and fumes. Even at Zander’s house, I haven’t been comfortable enough to sleep, and it’s not for lack of trying. The problem is, when I close my eyes, I see this dreadful being with evil eyes and an ugly gray beard hitting me. Choking me. This time, he wins.
I place my hands on my temple. A wave of dizziness clouds me. I grip the counter for support, desperately seeking balance.
“Ms. St. Claire, are you okay?”
I blink out of my reverie to see Mr. Alton standing at the door of the clubhouse.
“Oh, hi,” I say, still holding the counter, wishing this dizzy spell away from me. “I didn’t know you were standing there. My mind is all over the place these days.”
“I know. I didn’t think you would be back this week after—you know—what happened.”
“Oh, I’m fine, Mr. Alton. Plus, I had this on the calendar already, and I know how much y’all enjoy it. So, it’s still on. I sent a reminder email late last night so everyone else knows as well.”
“And you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
The number of times I’ve used the word fine this week is sickening. It’s an easy answer – enough to get people off my back about this ordeal without having to go into any detail. The bruise on my face is barely noticeable. With the makeup I put on, you can’t see it at all.
Mr. Alton glances at his watch and says, “Okay. Well, in that case, I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then. Come ready to paint, sip and eat!”
“Oh, I will. I skipped lunch for this.”
“Then you’re good and ready. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I return to setting up the tables. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do groups of tables or two long tables, but when I got here, I decided on the longer tables to give off more of a family vibe. That way, we can all converse as a big group rather than a room full of small groups.
Once the chairs are set up, I go to my car to get the party trays. I ordered subs, potato salad, chips, pickles, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I set the food on the counter and return to my car for the drinks and ice. Since I’m very much a décor person, I have to make sure everything is arranged neatly. I ordered some paper plates that matched the color scheme – blue and gold. My serving spoons are all blue. The centerpieces on the tables are blue, gold, and white. I made cute, little party bags that included small bottles of hand sanitizer, candy, gum, a pen, and a notebook. They’re small things, but I’ve learned they’re huge gestures for my tenants.
Next, I set up the easels. Per a suggestion by Ms. Campos, we’re painting a sunrise near a mountain range. I found the picture online and ordered thirty of them. Each comes with its own paint and brush. On the tables, I have water cups for paint changes, paper plates for color blending, and paper towels for messes.
I play some jazz on my phone and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker in the room.
Now, it’s a party!
My guests begin arriving a quarter to six. I speak to them all as they enter. Ms. Campos comes right over to me while people are picking their spots at the table. She says, “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried about you when I saw the office was closed Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.”
“Thank you, Ms. Campos, but I’m fine.”
There I go again…
“Is it true that we’re getting security out here now?”
I’m surprised to hear her ask that question since corporate brought it to my attention in the form of an email a few days ago. How would she know that?
I say, “Maybe, just as a precaution. Who did you hear that from?”
“I heard the maintenance men talking about it this morning when I was leaving for the grocery store. The real tall one told the short one that. They were speaking in Spanish. I didn’t know he knew Spanish. Did you know that?”
“Yeah, I did,” I answer, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how Axel would’ve known anything about the company’s plans to hire security.
I tell Ms. Campos, “Don’t worry. There’s no threat to the neighborhood. Situations like this just prove that crime can happen anywhere and we always need to be vigilant.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Okay. Go ahead and pick your seat before it gets too full in here.”
“Yeah, I better.”
She scurries on and chooses a seat near the center of the first table.
The night commences. I love these little get-togethers with the tenants. Everyone is painting, happy, discussing their day, sipping drinks, and eating. The sense of community I get from being with them helps me forget about my troubles. I’m completely satisfied with how it all came together.
I walk over to the food to get a sandwich. I haven’t done much eating in the last few days either. That’s probably why I’m a little dizzy.
I take a bite, then eat some chips. Opening a bottle of water, I drink, and drink, and drink some more. I place the bottle on the table and take another bite of my sandwich. That’s when I see Axel walk into the room. My entire body stills, forcing me to breathe deeply. Unhurriedly. Involuntarily, but with purpose. My body constantly defies me whenever he’s around.
Axel has on a black fitted cap, a black Polo, and dark blue jeans. Him in black is a mesmerizing sight. They boost his eyes, making them the focal point of his handsome face. Somehow, I think he knows that already.
I chew slowly while observing him. He looks around – looking for me I presume. The moment he realizes where I am, he walks in my direction. I pretend I don’t see him approaching and take another bite of this sandwich, which is really freakin’ good, by the way. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten in three days.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” I answer, disguising my angst that he’s here. I want to ask him why he’s here, but I know the answer to that already. Like Zander, he wants to make sure I’m okay.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“It’s going. Everyone is having a good time, as you can see. I’m glad I didn’t cancel.”
“When I suggested you cancel, it wasn’t to punish them. It was for you. I was thinking about what you needed.”
“Yeah, well, either way, I’m glad I didn’t cancel.”
I eat a few chips.
He asks, “How are you, Zimyra?”
There’s that question again. Everybody wants to know how I am, especially him. I told him I was fine when he came to Zander’s house on Tuesday. I didn’t talk to him on Wednesday or Thursday, even though he reached out to me. And earlier today at work, after I gave him the maintenance report for the day, I made it clear that I didn’t want to be hounded about my well-being. I wanted to be left alone. I even locked the lobby door to ensure that I was.
“Zimyra—”
“I’m good,” I say, my blood boiling with irritation, but I keep it together and pretend I’m unfazed by his constant prodding into my life.
“Can you look at me and say that?”
I eat more chips and ignore his request. I pick up my water bottle from the counter and prepare to walk back over to join the others when he grabs my forearm.
I immediately snatch my arm away and, being as discreet as I can, I say between clenched teeth, “Do not touch me.”
He frowns. “Zimyra, what is this? You’re afraid of me all of a sudden?”
“I didn’t ask you to come here, nor do I need you here.”
I keep walking to the table. I hadn’t planned on painting, but he done pissed me off. I need to do something to quell my frustration, so painting it is. They say it’s therapeutic. I’m about to find out if there’s any truth to that.
“I don’t remember the last time I painted anything, Mr. Alton.”
“Yeah, I noticed you didn’t paint the last time you put one of these together.”
“I know. I just try to do it for y’all, but since there are two spots left, and it’s already eight, I may as well jump in, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. You know I look forward to these little get-togethers every month. I’m so glad you put these together for us.”
“You’re welcome. Next month, I was thinking about doing an ice cream social.”
“Ooh—that sounds good. Maybe I can find me a lil’ something-something.”
“Mr. Alton!” I say tickled.
“I had an idea, Zimyra,” Ms. Hernandez says.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you threw a prom? We could all dress in gowns and just have a good time dancing the night away,” she says, then does a little shimmy.
“I like that,” I tell her. I’m going to make a note of that, Ms. Hernandez.”
“Ay, I want to know what this ice cream bar stuff will entail,” Mr. Baker says. “I have a serious sweet tooth.”
I’m surprised Mr. Baker came to this event because he’s never come to any in the past, but he seems to be enjoying himself.
I explain, “So, I will have vanilla ice cream with all the toppings you can think of, and you’ll dress it up how you want it.”
“Mmm…that does sound good,” Mrs. Phillips chimes in. “Just in time for summer.”
I feel a hand bear down on my shoulder. I jump at the weight of it. It startles me. Gives me flashbacks. My heart races as I see flashes of that man grabbing me, hitting me, and then I break away from it and remember I’m in a safe place. No one is going to attack me here. And this hand on my shoulder…
I’ve felt it before. It’s Axel. Knowing that it’s him makes my body warm, and yet it’s causing me a bit of anxiety. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Can I talk to you for a minute, please?”
I get up from the table and follow him through the clubhouse doors that lead out to the lobby where my desk is located. Safely away from my tenants, I can speak freely. I doubt if they would be able to hear me over the jazz music, anyway. I ask, “What is it, Axel?”
“I asked you a question.”
“Which is?”
“How are you?”
I sigh, feeling an instant headache coming on. Is he really asking me how I am again? Again ? What the heck? This broken record needs to stop playing because my head can’t take it anymore.
Fed up, I throw my hands up in exasperation and snap, “I have enough people asking me how I am. I’m good! I don’t need you checking up on me every five minutes, Axel! I’m good. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m FINE! How many more times do I have to say it? Did I not say that to you when you asked me earlier?”
“You did, but—”
“Then why are you still asking me? I answered you, and you insist on pestering me with the same question over and over and over again! My God! Please just stop!”
“Why are you raising your voice at me?”
“Because you won’t leave me alone. Stop bothering me! For the hundredth time, I’m fine! And do not touch me, ever . Don’t grab my arm, don’t put your hands on my shoulder, don’t touch my face, do not touch me, period! You work for me. That’s the extent of our relationship. Understood?”
I see the moment I think I broke him. He frowns, then slides his hands into his pockets and says evenly, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
Finally. A breakthrough…
He turns to walk toward the exit but then stops abruptly, looks at me again, and says, “Just know that this man who works for you will be out in the parking lot until you’re done with your event to make sure you’re safe.”
“I don’t need you to do that, Axel,” I say, but he’s not hearing me. He simply turns away from me and exits.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then take a few breaths before I return to the clubhouse. I suck in a breath, go back to my seat, and fall right back into conversations with my tenants. I pretend I’m having the time of my life when really, I’m a complete wreck.
I know it, and I have a feeling that Axel knows it.
That’s why he won’t leave me alone.