“And that’s Mr. Phines, he’s head of the overseas sales department,” Alex tugged at his striped neck tie, his eager face flush with excitement. “I’d love to introduce you to Mr. Bates if we see him. He’s kind of a hard ass sometimes, but he’s a really cool guy.”
I smiled indulgently at him, charmed by his boy like enthusiasm. We had only been on a few dates when he had - with much sweating and stuttering - asked me to accompany him to his offices Christmas party. Likely to prove to his office that he could get a date.
And with the promise of an open bar and great food, I’d agreed, thinking that even if this didn’t work out between us at least I could try to bulster his office reputation a little bit.
“Mr. Bates!” Alex smiles broadly and reaches out through the crowd, hand extended. As if summoning him from thin air, a tall, broad shouldered man appears. As he emerges from the pack, he grins at Alex before noticing me by his side. His vivid hazel eyes land on mine, the breath leaving me in a whoosh.
The world seems to diminish to a dull buzz. Nothing exists but me and him, eyes locked on one another, a hundred unsaid words flashing back and forth between us.
“Julianna,” his hand reaches mine, engulfing my delicate fingers in his own impossibly large hands.
“Devin,” I murmured, flustered by his sudden appearance. “Devin Bates.”
Kicking myself for not putting the name together sooner, I suddenly remember Alex at my side, whose look of elation has faded slightly as he looked back and forth between us. “Do you two…know each other?”
“Julianna and I grew up together,” Devin says smoothly. “We’re old pals.”
“Right. Our moms were friends,” I explained to Alex, “we grew up on the same street.”
And did a whole lot more than that, but now wasn’t the time to have that particular conversation with Alex, whose smile had slowly returned.
“How nice that you guys can catch up! Do you need a refill, Mr. Bates? I was just heading to the bar.”
He was so eager to please, this devoted puppy dog.
“That’d be great; scotch on the rocks for me. And a Manhattan for Julianna.”
Alex looked back at me. I nodded, and he scurried off into the crowd, leaving me and Devin alone.
“So,” he said, smiling at me, “here we are.”
“Here we are,” I returned the smile. “The big boss, huh?”
Devin runs a hand through his hair, looking chagrined. “Who would have thought, right?”
His thick wavy hair falls charmingly into his face, dark locks framing his forehead. “Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get a bit of fresh air?”
I nod, glancing towards Alex at the bar. He’d been waylaid by some colleagues and was animatedly chatting with them, waving his empty glass in the air exuberantly as he told them some story. “Let’s do it. I’m sure he’ll find us.”
I follow him towards a pair of large French doors at the side of the room, ducking out and carefully shutting the door behind us. Devin strode over to a secluded corner of the terrace, shrouded from view of the party by several ivy covered trellises, and waited, leaning against the stone wall and staring up at the stars.
I got the feeling he didn’t particularly care if Alex was able to find us or not - and if I was being totally honest with myself, neither did I.
“You’re looking good,” he said finally, arms crossed over his chest, finally looking back at me. He looked every bit the strong leader, much more grown up than the last time I saw him. “How long has it been? 10 years?”
“At least,” I said, hopping up to sit on the stone wall besides him. My thigh brushed his shoulder, a spark of electricity wending between us.
We sat in amicable silence for a minute and it felt so normal, so natural, that for a second I could almost picture that we were 17 again, legs dangling off the back of his ‘88 Ford tailgate.
“You changed your number,” he said abruptly. “I tried calling.”
I jolted, shaken out of my reverie by the pain in his voice, hidden well enough only I would notice.
“Yeah, I did,” I murmured softly. “After it all, it just seemed easier. Cleaner.”
We were quiet for a few moments, both lost in years of unsaid words, flooded with memories of yearning and the sorrow of first loves.
“Are you and Alex serious?”
The question comes suddenly, seemingly blurted out, as if he couldn’t help himself.
I play with the hem of my dress, trying to buy myself time. “No. We’ve gone on a couple dates, here and there. I’m mostly here as a favor.”
We lapse into amicable silence again, but this time, I notice him lean slightly against me, feeling his shoulder press against me.
I move, microscopically, into his warmth, until we’re fully pressed together. Then, holding my breath, I move a light hand to his shoulder.
The air feels charged, the buzz of the party white noise in the background, the warm night settling thick with anticipation around us.
He moves suddenly, swinging around so that he’s facing me, nestled between my legs. His eyes bore into mine, clear and intense, and I know what he’s going to do immediately.
When he leans in to kiss me, I match his ferocity, his fervor, immediately. The world slips away as the heat builds, inescapable, bubbling up as his hands move over my back, my neck, down my arms. My legs are locked around his waist, drawing him in, in, in, until the only thing between us is our layers of clothing. I claw at him like an animal in heat, like the ten years since I’ve seen him have been slowly building this between us.
“Julianna?” I hear Alex yelling from nearby and pull back, shutting my eyes, disgusted with myself for falling into Devin again so easily, when I had thought ten long years had been enough to break me free from him.
“He’ll go away if we just ignore him,” Devin whispered, resting his forehead against mine.
It was tempting. To jump back into Devin, to ignore everything that had happened between us, even just for the night.
But Alex was nice. And didn’t deserve this.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wrenching myself away from him. I jumped down and dusted off my dress, peeking out from under the vines to wave at Alex. “Over here!”
A wave of guilt sweeps over me, seeing Alex’s excited face, holding three glasses awkwardly in his arms. I rush forward to relieve him of mine, sipping it hastily to occupy myself. Devin takes his as well, murmuring a thank you. We stand in silence for a moment before I turn to Alex and say, “shall we head back in?”
There’s a beat where he looks between us, something deeper than I expected registering behind his eyes. A pain I hadn’t been anticipating.
“Sure, yeah.”
I follow him back in quietly, staying close behind as he winds through the crowd. Devin does not follow.
Eventually, we reach the doors at the entry to the room, and he turns to face me with a small smile. “There’s something there between you two, isn’t there?”
I gave him a begrudging smile of my own. “It appears so. I swear I haven’t seen him in years; I didn’t know.”
He stared at me for a long while, before quietly saying, “I think a love that never ends is rare. Don’t take it for granted.”
And with that, he turned around, and walked out.
A light paw hits the ground, gently nudging the earth aside. Sunlight drifts through the gaps in the trees canopy, dappling the undergrowth. Nothing can be heard but the sounds of the forest, the full chatter of an entire ecosystem at play.
The doe lowers its head, gently nibbling at the vegetation. Above her, birds chatter and sing, loping back and forth amongst the branches.
Suddenly, her head raises, responding to a sound only she hears. She holds herself ramrod straight, her eyes sweeping over the brush the only movement.
After several minutes, she slowly lowers her head to continue grazing, still warily checking the darkened undergrowth on occasion.
Meanwhile, a hare munches nearby in the hidden brush - the source of the noise. The hare, oblivious to the doe’s discomfort, continues to enjoy its dinner. A large cardinal observes its progress from a perch in a large elm tree, its tall branches reaching high above the wildlife.
Spreading its wings, it takes flight suddenly, swooping low to avoid the forests dangling limbs. A few sharp turns and rolls later, and it bursts through the canopy, greeted by a dazzling blue sky. It chirps loudly, gleefully, basking in the space to turn and twist and fly. It soars low, nearly brushing the tops of the trees, then dips down suddenly, skimming the surface of a swiftly moving river.
A fish splashes out of the water in front of the bird, then dives back deep into the current. The cold water rushes smoothly over its gills, providing sweet relief. It swims through its school, dipping deep into the river bed weeds before rising once more to leap out of the water.
Upstream, the bear waits patiently, ready to catch the next fish to leap into its waiting clutches. Winter is just beginning to thaw, and its hunger knows no bounds. Spring is beginning, and nature continues, anew and ancient, changing and unchanged.
I sit alone in my dressing room, practicing my words one more time. A lone moment of solitude during this campaign, and one I was grateful for; grateful for the time to collect my thoughts.
The enormity of the day sank into me, how far I had come to be here, preparing for this moment. The years of effort that had preceded it.
An aide pops her head through the door. “3 minutes til your cue.”
I nod, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks Nance. I’ll be out in a second.”
She nods back and backs out, leaving me in silence once again.
I let a breath whoosh out, visualizing myself finished with this speech, celebrating how well it went, how I’ve taken another step towards the ultimate end goal.
Standing, I begin to pace, back and forth, my pace increasing. A nervous energy began to build, and I shook my arms out, my head, trying to dispel it. One minute to go.
I reach for the door knob just as it opened again. The same aide smiles at me once more. “Perfect timing.”
She was really rather pretty, a fact that barely registered in my anxious, racing mind. I hadn’t dated in nearly three years, focused whole heartedly on the campaign, the long fight.
I found myself recklessly thinking that if all this went well today, I should ask the pretty aide out. If I could handle a nationwide speech, surely I could handle asking a beautiful woman to dinner.
She leads me to a side stage, listens to her headpiece for a moment, and then ushers me forward. “It’s time,” she says, her soft smile soothing my ragged nerves. “You’re going to do incredibly. Break a leg out there.”
Gulping, I try and fail to smile back, stepping into position behind the curtain. I can hear the MC beginning his introduction, and all too soon, the curtain is lifted, and I’m on stage.
A deep breath, and it begins.
At the after party that evening, I find myself with a constant refill of champagne, a steady stream of hands beating my back, a constant thrum of laughter and music in the background. I’m jostled from group to group, shaking hands, greeting friends, thanking sponsors, humbly accepting their praise.
After nearly two hours of this, I find myself seeking out an escape plan, a moment of solitude to process everything. Faking a trip to the bathroom, then shaking off a fellow who announced he also needed to use the facilities by saying I needed to greet some more family members across the room first, I finally found myself outside of the kitchen’s emergency exit, surrounded by dumpsters and pallets, the noise of the event a faint buzz behind me.
The night air settles soothingly against my skin, chilling my flushed skin. I tip my head towards the moonlit sky, eyes falling closed, basking in the moment.
“Oh! So sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here.” It was Nancy, sheepishly holding a cigarette in one hand and propping the door open with the other.
I smile at her, and gesture to a spot on the pallet next to me. “That’s okay. Plenty of space for us both.”
She sits down obligingly and lights her cigarette, taking a long drag before turning and offering it to me. I gratefully take an inhale, savoring the smoky flavor and her proximity.
“I was wondering where you ran off to. Although if that had been me, I would have needed some breathing space.”
I laugh, refreshed by her candor that stood out in stark contrast to the ass kissing I’d been enduring all evening. “I suppose it does say something when I prefer the disgusting trash filled alley to the oppulent ballroom.”
Handing the cigarette off again, I ask, “what about you? Whats your excuse for shirking the party?”
Its a minute before she answers, and when she does, its so quietly I’m unsure if I heard it correctly or not. “The only person I came here to see is you.” She turns to me more fully, smiling up at me shyly. “When I noticed you were gone, I figured I might as well sneak out before the open bar really got to everyone’s heads.”
I don’t even think; for the first time in years, I act before having a well thought out plan, act our of instinct. My lips find hers in the dim light, the taste of cigarettes and champagne dancing between us, an electric charge igniting my whole body.
After several long moments, I pulled back, but remained close, staring into her face. “I told myself if today went well, I’d ask you out. It was the only thing I was thinking of today.”
She laughs, looking at me almost incredibly. “I didn’t even think you knew who I was before today.”
Her eyes are blue, flecks of green prominently shining within them. “Have dinner with me.”
“When?”
“How about right now? I didn’t have anything but those god awful canapés, I could use a burger.”
She rises to her feet, holding a small, graceful hand out towards me. “It’s a date.”
The hotel bar was class personified; shiny brass features, sleek leather seats, soft, low lighting. I sipped my tequila soda, the condensation on it running down the length of the crystal whiskey glass, gently landing on my laptop keyboard.
The allure of the soft jazz music and enjoyable atmosphere had been too much to resist when I had returned, exhausted, from the end of a long day of conferencing with still yet more work to do. If I was working until midnight, it may as well be in a beautiful, soothing setting, with an ice cold drink in hand.
Stretching my arms above my head, I took a moment to drink in my surroundings, observing the other patrons covertly from my secluded booth in the corner. The bar was crowded, filled with excited travelers chatting over daiquiris and bored looking business men tapping away on their phones, glasses of whiskey reflecting the light of the chandelier overhead.
My gaze caught on a man at the far end of the bar; thick, sandy hair was perfectly tousled, a crisp white button down peaking out of his navy sports coat. Unlike the other bar patrons, he wasn’t absorbed in a conversation or a book or laptop. He simply sat, drink in hand, observing the space, as I myself did.
And then he turned to look at me.
I felt my mouth dry out.
Piercing green eyes bored into my own, pinning me to my seat. It felt as if I’d lost complete control over my limbs. A slight smirk turned one side of his mouth up, as if he knew exactly the kind of person I was with this one look.
After several long seconds he turned his attention to the bartender, and flagged him down. I took a sudden inhale, realizing that I had been holding my breath, and turned my attention back to my laptop. I stared intently at the screen, seeing nothing, trying to mentally stop the flush spreading to my cheeks.
“Hi there.” I tried to act as nonchalant as possible as the stranger suddenly appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat across from me. “I’m Jaime. Mind if I join you?”
Shutting the laptop, I waved a hand airily, indicating my feigned indifference. Up close he was even more stunning, his strong jaw line prominently on display, a faint smell of clean linen about him.
He leans in towards me, making my heart race. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod, absolutely losing any ability of speech.
“You’re magnetic. When I saw you from over there, I knew I had to come speak to you. It’s like I’ve known you all my life and only just remembered it.”
Stunned, I try to think of something, anything, to say in response, as the stranger flags the bartender for another round of drinks for us both.
He turned back to me, a cheeky smile on his face. “Working? In these conditions?”
I couldn’t help but return his smile. “I think you’re right,” I said, shutting my laptop. “Best to save it for the office.”
Jaime was charming, easy to talk to. The conversation - and the drinks - flowed. After a another generous gin and tonic arrived at the table, I excused myself to the ladies room, flushed from the alcohol and the attention of a good looking man.
Jaime, sitting alone at the table, pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text message, keeping a covert eye on the other bar patrons. Subtly, he reaches below the table and dislodges a small package taped to its underside. Without looking at it, he slips it into his pocket and returns to his phone, sending off another text message quickly. Within moments, it begins to ring in his hand.
“Talk to me Dex.”
“Great job on getting the first package, we were beginning to worry when it looked like that woman wasn’t moving anywhere anytime soon. The next one is in the third stall of the men’s room on the second floor; remove it and await further instructions in your room.”
“Roger.” Jaime hangs up without any further discussion, and looks almost wistfully at the half gone drink still sitting on the table. The woman really had been beautiful; in a different world, this may have been the start of something.
But it wasn’t. And he had a job to do.
My brother Marcus discovered his purpose when he was 8 years old.
A rogue thunderstorm had sent our new foal into a frenzy, bucking and kicking against the stall, feral and unhinged by the thunder booming across the valley.
Marcus spent the night soothing her, stroking her long mane until she finally fell asleep in the early morning hours. When he reentered our kitchen for breakfast, exhausted and smelling of horse stalls, he proudly declared that his compass had been filled - his purpose to help animals in need discovered and fulfilled.
I was six years old, and in awe. I remember turning to my mother and asking when I would find my purpose. She had laughed and patted me on the arm, reassuring me that the time would come, that she hadn’t found hers until she was nearly 16, that I just had to be patient and keep myself open to new experiences.
For months, I waited with baited breath, sure that my time would come soon. Years eventually passed, and I continued to search for my meaning, my utmost desire, as I grew into a tall, gangly teenager.
Most of my friends found their purpose towards our late teens, on the brink of adulthood. Large parties to celebrate those who’d found theirs became the norm. I attended each and every one, exuberant for them, happily anticipating my own.
The murmurs didn’t begin to start until my mid 20s.
“Taking your sweet time, eh?” My grandfather said, clapping me on my back at Christmas. “Not even a hint yet?”
“Not yet,” I replied, my mouth set in a tight smile. “I’m not too worried,” I added - a blatant lie.
“You’ll find it, sweetie,” my elderly boss told me, a sympathetic, pitying smile on her face. “You’re just a late bloomer is all.”
I nodded tightly, not bothering with any other response.
On the eve of my 30th birthday, I was in a deep depression, drinking my fifth beer alone in the crappy bar down the street from my apartment. There were only two other people in the smoke scented building, apart from the weathered bartender; an elderly man who was drunkenly singing along to a sad old western on the juke box, and an out of place businessman, typing away on a blackberry and drinking a glass of Chardonnay in the corner.
As I signaled the bartender for a refill, I heard the door open and shut behind me. Not bothering to look around, I watched from the corner of my eye as someone slid onto the stool next to mine.
I turned my attention back to my beer, content in my self pitying wallow. Briefly, I wondered if the bartender would allow me to take a beer to go, so that I wouldn’t have to be alone with my thoughts for the short trip from bar to apartment.
“That looks good, I’ll take one too,” comes a soft, musical voice from besides me. I chance a glance at the stranger, and catch a sight of a stunning woman, blonde hair falling in a silky sheet around her head, a light blue cashmere sweater belaying good style and quiet comfort.
She catches me looking and flashes a sweet smile. “I’m glad you’re here, so I don’t need to drink alone.”
My stomach churns, a mixture off too much beer and butterflies from her innocent charm. “That’s exactly why I came; I just got here a bit early to break the bar in.”
She tips her head back and lets out a deep laugh, and in that moment, it clicks. A flash of understanding, of recognition of why I was waiting all these years; my purpose is to make her happy.
“Did you hear yet?” Amanda leaned forward conspiratorially against the wall of my cubicle, coffee cup in hand. “They made their decision on the new director.”
I spun around at that, half written email forgotten on the screen behind me. “Who is it?”
“They haven’t announced it yet. But Kelly told me that in the morning meeting this morning Kruger let slip that they already decided.”
“God, I can’t wait for things to settle back down after this,” I slumped back down, rubbing my eyes wearily. I would sleep like a baby when this whole process was finished.
Amanda nods sympathetically. “Fingers crossed for you, hun.” She flits out of the office, carrying the news with her like the pied piper, spreading it from cubicle to cubicle.
She had been a main supporter when I had decided to throw my name in for the role, her optimism emboldening me in what I could now only describe as a moment of lunacy.
Sighing, I knew it’d be impossible to return to my work right now. Grabbing my own coffee cup, I headed to the kitchenette to refill with the company provided sludge and give myself a breather. As I neared the counter, I saw a small cluster of accounting standing next to the refrigerators, deep in conversation.
The second they saw me it became clear they had just been talking about me. All three had the look of deer in headlights, and immediately halted their conversation.
I forced a smile at them and pretended not to be aware of their sudden damning silence, resolutely turning to the coffee pot to pour myself a cup. Behind me, I heard the sounds of them quickly exiting.
Deep breaths, I reminded myself. I rested my hands on the cool linoleum, letting my head hang heavily for a moment.
“If that isn’t the universal sign for a bad day, I don’t know what is,” a rich voice says from behind me, a lilting Irish accent deliciously biting into the consonants.
I force a smile as I turn around to find myself face to face with a broad shouldered man, easily standing a head above myself, a lock of curly, dark hair falling from a thick mop into place just between his eyebrows. My mouth falls open, attempted smile forgotten
“I’m Gregory - just started on fourth floor,” he holds out a hand and after another moment of gaping I weakly raise my own to meet it. His hand encompasses my own, strong and warm, before he releases it and stares at me, expectantly. After another moment of silence, he presses on, “and you are…?”
Finally catching on to my lack of etiquette, I squeak out, “I’m Marney. Sixth floor, sales.”
His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “Ah, our new director. Congratulations, I only just heard.”
My jaw drops. “I - what? How do you-?”
At that moment, the door bangs open, causing me to jump and spill my coffee all over my new blazer. Our vice president, Kruger, strides into the room and barks out, “Marney. Need a minute of your time,” leaving just as curtly as he entered.
I turn meekly back to the handsome stranger, who seems to have put together my ignorance and looks absolutely horrified. “I’ll see you around - it was really nice to meet you.”
And with that, I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and follow Kruger out the door.
The fluorescent lights slowly flickered on, one by one. Combined with the last of the lingering summer sun, I could almost see to the far end of the park.
I began my first round, performing the typical end of day checks. I could almost convince myself that I was not disturbed by the metallic creeks and groans I heard as I progressed. Reaching the far end of the park some five or ten minutes later, I gratefully turn around and speed back towards the guard shack, trying not to glance over my shoulder like a child running up stairs in the dark.
Night had truly fallen by the time I returned, and I nestled myself in for what would hopefully be a calm, unexciting night.
Hopefully.
It was a good two hours before the noises began. I had almost lulled myself into thinking that this night would hold no surprises, that I would simply do my required duties and leave in the morning, none the wiser.
The screeching began quietly, almost a whisper, faint enough that I could pretend I hadn’t heard it. It grew in volume and fury, until 10 minutes later, the howls echoed off the walls, my brain swimming with the noise of it all.
I crouched beneath the desk, hands pressed tightly to my ears, eyes scrunched tightly closed. I could hear claws raking at the door, the windows, fists pounding against the glass. Like every night, I prayed that they would hold for one more night.
The beam of light pins me to the wall. I can only imagine how I look, hunched over the half eaten load of bread, still shoveling crumbs into my mouth, squinting towards the light.
“Drop it!” The sour voice comes from someone I can not see against the glaring light.
Instead of obliging, I shove the rest of the bread into my mouth as quickly as possible, the grumbling in my stomach winning over any logic.
“Hey!” A second later the thick end of a night stick slams into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Resolute, I continue to chew furiously through the pain, eyes watering.
It isn’t until much later, when I’ve been trundled into the back of a barred wagon to be carted to the jail, that the shame begins to set in. Now that the aching, gnawing hunger in my stomach that had haunted me for weeks has finally abated enough to think. Now that I have nothing for company but the rats in the corners of the cell, nothing to see but the blank, damp wall across the way.
A drunkard a few cells over begins to sing a melancholy country tune, soft at first, growing stronger with each verse.
“-and when my girl, she found me there, she shook her head, and said, you’re dead-“
I might as well be dead, for all the good I was providing to this world. Nothing but a burden to society, barely keeping myself alive, let alone fulfilling any purpose.
What did I have to help this world? To make it a better place? What did I contribute, other than another mouth to feed?
It hadn’t always been this way. Years ago I’d been respected, well off, bordering on wealthy even.
But now I had slipped, tumbled off my golden pedestal until I was all but unrecognizable. Until I was no better than the rats that populated the sewers.
And the worst bit - I was all alone.
The wind whistles through the trees, a haunting melody the forest had sung since the beginning. Above me, owls hooted, their low calls echoing back and forth in the dead forest.
The path I followed was tricky at best, deadly at worst. Small, winding, at times completely disappearing into brush only to reemerge some hundred yards away, it was a tedious and frustrating journey.
The guard prodded my back with the end of his rifle, urging me forward. First, in case anything emerged from the brush, hungry or feral.
Ultimately though, I knew to count my blessings while I was along this path, for what awaited me at the end would be infinitely worse.
After another several brutal miles of hiking that was more akin to rock scrambling, my captor barked the order to make camp. Wearily, I set up his tent, and my own, much more raggedy, lean to.
No fire was allowed, in case it attracted anything..unsavory. The guard had his rifle, and a short dagger strapped to his thigh, but nothing that would do much damage to any large game. I had nothing to defend myself, but wits and bare hands.
Curling up beneath a threadbare rag, I shut my eyes and attempted to block out the noise of the whistling wind, the odd creaking branches, shivering every time I thought I caught the sound of some animal. It was many hours before I finally fell into a fitful sleep.
