was absolutely necessary, but I was home now. The sheets needed doing, and the towels, and my clothes, obviously. The Bordelle underthings I hand-washed lovingly, caressing them the way he did.
I passed Gabby’s closed door a dozen times. That part of the house was as much mine as it ever was, but I still couldn’t go in without Darren. I still braided my hair for her. I still kept what little music she’d written to integrate into my mine, to save her name and her legacy.
The battery on my phone had died, so I plugged it in and went about cleaning my bathrooms, mopping the kitchen floor, doing all the things I’d neglected while I was away. In my mind, the metronome ticked in four-four time. A song was bubbling up, and my verbal mind waited patiently while my non-verbal brain processed the point and purpose of it.
I was on the porch shaking the dust out of the couch throws when the phone blooped. It must be Jonathan saying something that would make me smile. I ran to it.
—are you there?—
—Yes—
—I feel your hands on the phone—
—I miss you already. Can we have a call—
—Can’t. Just checking in. I feel good knowing you’re there, and mine—
The subtext was he felt good knowing I was there and doing what he told me. Which meant, no Jessica. He either thought very little of me believing I was obedient, or a lot believing I’d get the right message from so few words. Or maybe I should just take it at face value.
Bored, I checked my email from the phone. I hadn’t set up digital roaming while out of the country, and then the phone died, and the fact was, email wasn’t my thing. Most of my social interactions were local and done with a phone call or text.
But that couldn’t be said for everyone. I’d given Harry Enrich my information after the B.C. Mod show, and shockingly, he’d used it, sending me a personal note early Friday.
Ms. Faulkner,
It was a pleasure to hear your work tonight. I understand Eddie Milpas has been working to sign you on with us. Why don’t you come by our offices Tuesday to discuss further?
Best,
Harry
PS – Do you have representation?
Eddie had been working to sign me? Sounded like he was trying to put a collar on my neck and shackle me to a display case, but who was I to question?
My phone rang while it was still in my hand. I didn’t usually answer numbers I didn’t recognize, but the green button was a reflex, and I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello.” The voice was female and tight as a drum. Pleasant, but not effusive. Welcoming, but not warm. “This is Jessica Carnes. Am I speaking with Monica?”
“Yes.” I sat on the piano bench, willing myself not to shake. All of Jonathan’s warnings and the events of my two prior meetings with Jessica blew out my nerves. I had to remind myself to channel him, his utter dedication to self-management no matter his feelings.
“How are you?” she asked.
I had no answer prepared. No story to tell to get what I wanted. “I’m fine. You?”
“Very well, thank you,” she said. I didn’t think I had another nicety left in me, and she saved me from having to come up with another. “You left me a message?”
Oh, she was going to make me ask. She wasn’t giving me an inch or admitting she had made first contact at Frontage. She wasn’t going to admit she’d shown up at my job at whatever o’clock in the morning. “I thought I’d take you up on that offer to meet.”
“Things have gotten a little more complicated since we spoke last.”
“Yes...I...I guess you’re right. I thought you came to see me last night. Never mind.”
After saying that, I felt a sense of relief. I was avoiding immediate repercussions from seeing Jessica, and it wasn’t even my fault. Coward. Yes, that was the craven woman. I wasn’t her any more. But I couldn’t push Jessica. If she wanted to wiggle out she would, no matter what.
“If you feel differently at some point, I would
I passed Gabby’s closed door a dozen times. That part of the house was as much mine as it ever was, but I still couldn’t go in without Darren. I still braided my hair for her. I still kept what little music she’d written to integrate into my mine, to save her name and her legacy.
The battery on my phone had died, so I plugged it in and went about cleaning my bathrooms, mopping the kitchen floor, doing all the things I’d neglected while I was away. In my mind, the metronome ticked in four-four time. A song was bubbling up, and my verbal mind waited patiently while my non-verbal brain processed the point and purpose of it.
I was on the porch shaking the dust out of the couch throws when the phone blooped. It must be Jonathan saying something that would make me smile. I ran to it.
—are you there?—
—Yes—
—I feel your hands on the phone—
—I miss you already. Can we have a call—
—Can’t. Just checking in. I feel good knowing you’re there, and mine—
The subtext was he felt good knowing I was there and doing what he told me. Which meant, no Jessica. He either thought very little of me believing I was obedient, or a lot believing I’d get the right message from so few words. Or maybe I should just take it at face value.
Bored, I checked my email from the phone. I hadn’t set up digital roaming while out of the country, and then the phone died, and the fact was, email wasn’t my thing. Most of my social interactions were local and done with a phone call or text.
But that couldn’t be said for everyone. I’d given Harry Enrich my information after the B.C. Mod show, and shockingly, he’d used it, sending me a personal note early Friday.
Ms. Faulkner,
It was a pleasure to hear your work tonight. I understand Eddie Milpas has been working to sign you on with us. Why don’t you come by our offices Tuesday to discuss further?
Best,
Harry
PS – Do you have representation?
Eddie had been working to sign me? Sounded like he was trying to put a collar on my neck and shackle me to a display case, but who was I to question?
My phone rang while it was still in my hand. I didn’t usually answer numbers I didn’t recognize, but the green button was a reflex, and I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello.” The voice was female and tight as a drum. Pleasant, but not effusive. Welcoming, but not warm. “This is Jessica Carnes. Am I speaking with Monica?”
“Yes.” I sat on the piano bench, willing myself not to shake. All of Jonathan’s warnings and the events of my two prior meetings with Jessica blew out my nerves. I had to remind myself to channel him, his utter dedication to self-management no matter his feelings.
“How are you?” she asked.
I had no answer prepared. No story to tell to get what I wanted. “I’m fine. You?”
“Very well, thank you,” she said. I didn’t think I had another nicety left in me, and she saved me from having to come up with another. “You left me a message?”
Oh, she was going to make me ask. She wasn’t giving me an inch or admitting she had made first contact at Frontage. She wasn’t going to admit she’d shown up at my job at whatever o’clock in the morning. “I thought I’d take you up on that offer to meet.”
“Things have gotten a little more complicated since we spoke last.”
“Yes...I...I guess you’re right. I thought you came to see me last night. Never mind.”
After saying that, I felt a sense of relief. I was avoiding immediate repercussions from seeing Jessica, and it wasn’t even my fault. Coward. Yes, that was the craven woman. I wasn’t her any more. But I couldn’t push Jessica. If she wanted to wiggle out she would, no matter what.
“If you feel differently at some point, I would
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