2. Samantha
Chapter two
Samantha
Endure it.
Two words that always seem to escape my lips or linger in my mind every single day. I’m slowly getting sick of them.
The waiter gets my order wrong. The trainer at the gym forces me beyond what my body can handle. The boyfriend is late—again. Another day without recognition for my hard work at my dream job.
Ignore it, and endure it.
Sometimes, I try not to just endure but look at things as a positive. The waiter getting my order wrong means I get me a discount. I get stronger and my butt gets bigger thanks to the extra squats my trainer makes me do. The boyfriend knows how to make it up to me beyond what I’d expect. And the job pays extremely well for a Fortune 500 company.
Hence, endurance or putting in the extra effort always plays out nicely.
But there are limits to this .
I take a deep breath as I resume pacing in front of the conference room. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and I’m the first to present. I’ve memorized my presentation, and this would be a walk in the park if it was just a regular meeting. Unfortunately, this one has not only my boss present, but the CEO and the founder.
I have never met the CEO, save for parties, and the founder is practically a ghost we all thought didn’t exist. But lo and behold, he’s here today.
I’m sweating buckets.
“Too much sweat, and you’ll have to go home and change,” Tina, my colleague and friend, says as she approaches me and hands me a handkerchief.
“Thanks.” I take the cloth and start dabbing at my forehead. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“You’ve done meetings like this before,” Tina reminds me. “Sure, this isn’t a normal one, and this one could make an impression on the CEO and founder, hence your job is on the line. But overall, nothing to worry about.”
I groan. “I’m not sure if that was meant to encourage me or just make me sweat more.” I start to return the handkerchief, but she raises her hand.
“Just imagine everyone in underwear,” she suggests. “For the record, I’m wearing black lingerie. And Henry is probably wearing tightey-whities.”
The mention of Henry makes my lip curl in disgust. For one, he’s our boss, and two, the guy is a sleazebag.
“I’m pretty sure Henry would love the idea of me picturing him in underwear,” I say, making no attempt to hide the revulsion on my face.
“You’ll be fine,” Tina insists. “Now let’s go in. ”
With a nod and a deep breath, I follow her into the conference room.
The meeting seems to be a success so far, with Tina giving me a supportive thumbs-up and a warm smile after every key point I make. It helps grow my confidence as I continue to speak.
The founder nods whenever I make a point, and the CEO does the same. Henry is smiling, but half the time he isn’t focused on the presentation. Last I checked, the projector was aimed at the board and not my knee-length skirt. Unconsciously, I keep tugging it town, though I try to stop myself and not allow him to get under my skin. The guy is such a creep. I know he’s getting off on this, enjoying watching me squirm.
“And that’s all from me,” I conclude. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe.”
I thought ending the presentation with a joke might help lighten the mood. It’s one I spent two hours working on, so I hope it doesn’t fall flat. To my luck, it earns hearty laughter and applause from the founder and CEO.
I collect my papers and let the moment sink in. As I’m the youngest in terms of work experience, I feel like I should clean up after. The founder and CEO stay behind to talk to Henry, but leave after a few minutes along with Tina.
Henry is the only one here with me now, and I don’t like it. I focus on tidying up while keeping my distance from him.
“Your outfit looks good today. ”
His attempt to strike up a conversation is the last thing I want, but then again, I can’t give my boss the silent treatment.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile.
I’m wearing a simple dress shirt tucked into my skirt with a blazer over it. Not exactly the way I normally like to dress, but whenever I show so much as an inch of skin, Henry takes it as an invitation to something more.
He approaches me. As he’s about to pass me to get to the door, he turns to me, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I kind of miss your camisoles, though. You stopped wearing them?” he asks so casually that even I’m impressed by the audacity. He was the reason I stopped wearing them in the first place.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I say as I power off the laptop and projector.
The pointer falls to the floor. I bend to pick it up, and that’s when I feel it. His hand runs up my inner thigh and moves through the slit behind my skirt. He doesn’t stop there—his other hand grabs my waist to hold me in place.
I spin around with a raised palm, about to smack the audacity out of him, but I manage to stop myself, barely grazing his face.
Looks confused and amused at the same time. “Jeez, cool your jets,” he chuckles.
“Cool my jets?” I repeat, blinking at him. “Are you insane, sir?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he raises his eyebrows and looks at me like I’m the one who’s out of my mind.
“I’m taking this up with HR,” I state. I don’t know if that’s going to work, but it should scare him off at least .
“We’re just playing around,” he chuckles again. “Come on, Sam.”
“Samantha,” I correct him. “And I mean it. It’s not going to end here.”
The playful smile on his face disappears and is replaced with a frown. “All right, then. Be my guest.”
It’s a threat. I know it is, but still. This is a Fortune 500 company. Surely the policies are in my favor against the boss.
I don’t offer him any other words. I pick up the projector, place it on the laptop, and leave the room without looking back.
To be honest, this isn’t the first harassment I and most other women in this company have received from Henry. From lewd remarks to crowding into your personal space, he’s done it.
I’m doing the right thing.
I make my way to HR, but unfortunately, Maxwell, the head of HR, isn’t there. I’m not giving up, though. The rest of the day, I keep an eye out for him just in case.
I throw myself onto the bed and groan.
“Rough day?” George asks.
“Yeah,” I answer without looking at him .
He lays beside me, and I finally turn to gaze at him. I expect him to touch my hair or maybe do something to make me feel better, but he doesn’t. He just pulls out his phone, texting someone.
George Clinton. My college sweetheart-turned-boyfriend. Though to be honest, he hasn’t exactly made my heart skip a beat for a while now. The magic is gone, but I have to ask myself, did the magic ever exist between us? We were close, and our shared ambitions and no-nonsense attitude helped us get along. So much so, it seemed to make sense that we should date. At least that’s what I thought, and what our friends thought.
The two of us have slowly grown distant from one another. We’re still together, but it feels like we’re going through the motions and nothing more.
“Now that’s settled,” he sighs, putting down his phone and snuggling into bed. “You had a presentation, right? Did it go okay?”
“My founder and CEO liked my joke,” I reply.
“What was the joke?”
“At the end of the presentation, I told them not to forget to like and subscribe.”
There are several seconds of silence.
“Oh,” he finally says. “Well, as long as they laughed.”
I make a face at him. “Jerk.”
He grins and shrugs. He can be slow to understand jokes, but I do like the fact that he tries his best. He’s a good guy. We may not be so close now, but he’s still in my corner at least.
“So if your joke landed, why was work so rough today?” he inquires, eyes on the ceiling.
“I was harassed by Henry,” I answer.
He turns to look at me. “Again? I thought you changed your wardrobe.”
“He didn’t say anything about my outfit.” I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth as I recall what happened. “He touched my thighs through the slit in my skirt and then held my waist to make sure I didn’t move.”
George doesn’t say anything at first, just searches my eyes before looking away and sighing deeply. “The guy has a funny way of playing around.”
I pull away from him. I expected him to react with some outrage after hearing his girlfriend was just harassed, but it almost sounds like he’s on Henry’s side. “What do you mean, playing around?”
“I mean, is this something he does just to you, or others in the company?”
I don’t understand the point he’s making.
“I think so,” I answer. “I’m taking it up with HR first thing tomorrow.”
“Now, Sammie, I don’t think that’s something you want to rush in and do,” he advises.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“It’s a big company. You’re being paid eight thousand a month. That’s enough to tell you that there are some things you should ignore for financial security,” he says. Now he decides to touch my hair. “Just keep your distance and make sure you aren’t in a vulnerable situation with him again. ”
His hand moves to my cheek, but it feels cold. I didn’t expect this from him. I truly thought he would get angry that someone assaulted his girlfriend rather than tell her to just suck it up. He’s basically telling me that it’s okay to get harassed, as long as I’m getting paid the big bucks.
I force a smile. “Right, thanks for listening.”
He smiles in return. “Anytime.” He kisses my forehead and turns to his side. “I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Me too,” I say. “Good night.”
When we wake up the next morning, I feel nothing. Normally, the ritual of waking together gives me comfort, but today I just feel numb.
“Don’t forget what I told you,” George says as he hands me my Stanley cup.
“I won’t.” I want to forget last night, but he just had to remind me.
“Good luck.” He kisses my cheek, then heads for the kitchen.
I make my way to the office. A sickening feeling of dread is growing in me, and I can’t figure out the cause.
As I make my way to my cubicle, I spot Maxwell, the head of HR who I was trying to track down yesterday. He doesn’t see me, and I think of telling him about Henry. Then I remember George’s advice and shrug it off.
Then Maxwell does see me, and the smile on his face disappears, only to be replaced with pity. He excuses himself from his conversation and approaches me. “Hey, Samantha, how are you? ”
My hackles immediately go up. “I’m… okay.”
Maxwell’s gaze is shifty. He starts stroking his beard a bit, looking like he’s struggling to find the words. “When you get settled in, can I see you?”
I don’t like the look on his face. Then, from the corner of my eye, I see Henry heading to his office. He looks at us, flashes me a knowing smile, and waves before continuing on.
“We can talk now,” I say to Maxwell, feeling a little desperate.
“Just settle in for a bit first, okay?” he says gently, apparently hoping to make the inevitable easier for me.
“Okay.” I bite my lower lip and cling to my bag tighter.
None of this bodes well for me. I know it.