Hard Lessons
“So what do you expect me to do?” Kelly sat at her desk, impassively looking at me. “Lost your tongue ...again? Let me recap. You lost a fight to Wendy Griffiths.”
Kelly paused she looked at me. “Well?”
“Yes Kelly” I muttered. I felt my face flushing.
“She took your notes which you’d been discussing with the firm’s client.”
“Yes Kelly” I wished she’d said ‘your client’; to say ‘the firm’s client ’made it worse. It reminded me just how badly I’d let down my employers too.
“And she used those notes to prepare for the launch of the firm’s client’s new CD. A very successful launch.” I wished the floor would swallow me up. “Did you tell me any of this?”
“No Kelly..”
‘“No Kelly’,’’ she mimicked. “No. And you didn’t attend the launch either. Instead you said you had an headache. But you made sure I’d find out what happened.”
I gulped. “No Kelly, I didn’t. That was my sister’s idea.”
I’d returned home after Wendy thrashed me to find Bella sitting on the davenport having coffee with a fair haired, well dressed man in his early thirties. Bella took one look at me and stood. “I’m sorry Stefan, it seems my sister needs me. Let’s have coffee another time.”She saw the man to the door. She insisted I had a shower and she applied some first aid. Then over coffee- which she laced with some brandy she asked “Who did you fight this time?” I told her the whole story: how Jann and I met with Vic Hely Hutchinson to discuss the launch, how Jann went to the bathroom leaving me to face Vic’s slut Wendy Griffiths who took me apart and took my folder with all the launch details.
Bella put me to bed. The next morning she read me a lecture about fighting then said she was going to tell Henry Vaughan what had happened. I tried to tell her it would do no good. She wouldn’t listen to me. She was still pissed that I’d spoilt her night with Stefan. It was a shame – he looked dreamy. She told Henry who had told Kelly who was now lecturing me.
“So what do you expect me to do? You didn’t ask for my help yourself. Do you expect me to give it when you ask indirectly?”
“No Kelly."
“Just as well too!”Kelly looked at me. “I‘ve helped you before. I covered for you after our own fight. I stopped St Leon and her crowd from harassing you I assigned you Peter and Vic’s project. I’ve given you other work. I’ve invited you to meetings way beyond your grade. I covered for you again when you fought Alison Bauer. And you wouldn’t ask for my help when Wendy Griffiths stole those papers.”
I squirmed, Kelly was very pale, a sure sign she was furious. “No Kelly.”
“Why not, Bethany Beaverbrook? Why not?”
“I don’t know Kelly.”
“And I don’t know why I have gone out of my way to help you in the past. You may go now. Well, what are you waiting for?”
I'd never been dismissed like that. I was close to tears. I felt sick inside. I picked up my portfolio, new ideas for some campaigns which was what I thought Kelly had wanted to discuss but which I hadn’t even mentioned. I walked out, fighting back tears. I walked out of Kelly's office -the door was wide open- and passed her P. A's desk. Merle Davis glanced up. She pursed her lips. I didn't like her. She was a few year older than me. A thin fragile looking blonde with a natural sort of paleness, she'd been with the firm a while though only recently had become Kelly's PA. She was known to be extremely loyal to whomever she worked for;
I went back to my cubicle trembling. What with? Rage, humiliation, despair, fear. All along I'd known it was hopeless asking for help. That's why I'd asked Bella not to. But she had insisted. She'd told me I should have confessed to Kelly the Monday after Wendy had beaten me up. I'd known that would be no use- Kelly had no time for weaklings.
But back in my cubicle trying to work I began to have second thoughts. Perhaps if I had gone to Kelly instead of covering up my scratches and bruises. I'd been glad at the time that it was October, no one expected you to wear anything but long sleeves and a turtleneck sweater didn't draw any attention. Only wearing sunglasses and beret inside made me look a little different. But they together with make-up pancaked on concealed the marks of the fight.
But perhaps concealing hadn't been the right idea. Perhaps I should have asked, begged, pleaded for help. Perhaps if I'd gone to Kelly to begin with she would have solved my problems for me. Immediately after the fight I thought I should tell her what had happened. She'd be sure to know how to get the file back. After all her boyfriend was one of the clients. I almost rang her cell.. I changed my mind when I looked in the mirror. Kelly would not want to see me in the mess I was. I went home instead.
So I sat in my cubicle thinking all this. I pulled some files down and started work on some of the hardest projects I had to take my mind off my own problems. I worked straight through lunch- I'd brought in a sandwich and some fruit from home. I went to the coffee machine . Bad move! Alison Bauer and one of her friends were there- wasting time as usual. They both gave me a dirty look. They knew Kelly had chewed me out. I withered under their gaze and scurried back to my cubicle as fast as I could.
The rest of the day was hell- much worse than returning to work after the three other fights I’d had since starting at the agency. Kelly had protected me after the first fight, shooing St Leon and her harpies away; and she had cut me some slack when she beat me by arranging some time off for me. Somehow-although neither I or Alison Bauer said a word almost the whole office knew about our fight and that I’d beaten her soundly. No one- not one of her friends dared say a word to me about that.
And no one had said anything after I smashed that arrogant midget actress Kim to the floor at Emily’s and left her spewing up her drink. And it had been the same at first when I came in on the Monday after I’d fought Wendy. Perhaps I’d covered up well enough.
But now everyone knew that I couldn’t turn to Kelly. And the harpies all gathered. For a day or so I just had to put up with insults, snide remarks and being jostled. But it got worse. All my pens, stationary and stapler were gone when I came back from the bathroom one afternoon I wasted five minutes trying to find some more. I wasted another five minutes trying to explain to Merle Davis that I wasn’t wandering round the office aimlessly wasting time but trying first to find my own gear and then to find new stuff. She was not convinced. She made me make another complete search. And all my old stuff turned up at the back of my bottom desk I swore that it had not been there when I looked earlier.
“But Merle I never keep things there, why would I put things I use all the time back where its hard to see and harder to get at?”
“How would II know, all I know is you wasted time wandering around the office when the stuff you said you couldn’t find was in your desk drawer. Get on with your work!”
“Yes Merle, I’m sorry. “I knew she’d tell Kelly Haldane if I said anything
The next morning I got into the same elevator as Alison Bauer. “The girl who can’t find her personals when they’re in her desk drawers.” She smirked.
I turned white. “You hid them.”
“In your dreams Beaverbrook, or should I say nightmares. I”she emphasised I “wasn’t anywhere near your cubicle yesterday afternoon, I’ve got an alibi- just ask Louisa Martingale I was with her in a meeting all afternoon.” Each time she emphasised “ I. “
I took the hint. “0h! Someone else did. One of your friends . Otherwise how did you know then?”
“Walls have ears. And it couldn’t happen to a nicer person” She laughed mockingly as she stepped out of the elevator
I was burning up inside. I so wanted to lash out and hit her I’d beaten her once, I knew I could again. But I didn’t want Kelly Haldane chewing me out for fighting again. I bit my tongue.
That day I got back from lunch- the first time I’d been out for lunch since Kelly lectured me to find my cubicle splattered with ink and many of the papers and notes I’d written out smeared with it. I had to do all the work again. And no one would say they had seen anyone around my desk all lunch break.
My colleagues, the ones I’d always got on with shunned me. I saw one after work as she was walking to the L station. “Odette,” I called breathlessly- I’d had to run to catch up, normally she’d have waited and we’d walk together. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone treating me like I don’t exist? Who is making my life hell?”
She looked round as if to check who was watching. “Bethany, Kelly Haldane’s got it in for you. And she's probably got it in for anyone who associates with you. I'll meet you for coffee some place where no one from work is likely to go, just so long as you tell no one and you don’t talk about work.” She scurried off leaving me speechless.
The persecution- for that is what it was – entered its second week St Leon loomed behind me with two of her cronies very early Tuesday before most of the staff was in. I’d not heard them till Jo said, “Beaverbrook, Alison has got a problem. I need it fixed today.” She slapped a file down on my desk. “ I want your answer on my desk by 4.00 pm. “
“Why me? What do you want me to do?”I was taken aback
“Fix it; give me an answer she can take to my manager. Why you? Because I’ll break your arm if you don’t. “She glared at me. “Don’t think you can escape now.” I spluttered and half stood. She rammed her knee into my gut twice. I collapsed to my knees. She’d winded me, I was completely unprepared. She slapped my face. “Do it!”One of her cronies grabbed my arms, pinning them behind me as she pulled me up. St Leon slapped my face again. She kneed me for a third time.
“Yes Jo” I croaked. She explained what she wanted and I did it. I worked feverishly had an answer to her with nothing to identify that it had come from me so she could take it to her supervisor and claim the credit.. It had taken me almost all day to do her work. Then I had to do mine. I didn’t leave work till after 7 that night. .
And for a week or so I had to do other people’s shit . I collapsed in tears one night. I’d been working back again and I couldn’t take it any longer. I wasn’t getting enough sleep, I didn’t need the harpies telling me to know I looked haggard, I wasn’t eating right- too much takeaway- even though I knew that would make me fat. I was about to resign and look for another job. If Kelly hadn’t chewed me out I’d have asked her advice .But that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I went to the bathroom to try to wash my face and remove the streaks in my make-up the tears had made.
I pushed the door open.
“Hey cry baby! Still moaning about how hard your pathetic life is.” Maria Gomez, the harpy who had been Jo St Leon's lookout when she and her cronies taunted and beat me up at my cubicle. “Why don't you just make the office a better place and resign?”
“Please, just leave me alone.” I backed away.
“Pathetic cry baby” she sneered again.” Just leave me alone” she mimicked. She followed me. I edged back till I hit the wall. “Why should I leave you alone, you need another lesson! Just like Jo gave you, right here. ” She stepped up to me. “Kiss my toes!”
I knew that if I did, that the next day the harpies would think of something worse. I had to stop the rot- or at least try. I looked at Gomez. She was a few years older than I was- I guess about 30. She’d been with the firm for much longer than I had but never progressed past my own level. At about five foot five she was about four inches shorter than I was but she would have weighed the same, she was plump and thick set. She was also probably tough, she came from Pilsen – like most places on the Lower West side a bit of a rough neighbourhood I didn’t know how strong she was but I guessed I’d find out if I took her on.
And what other choice did I have? It was fight her or resign and jobs were not that easy to come by especially if you didn’t have a suitable reason for resigning.
I guess I’d known all along it would come to a fight. I’d been putting it off but now my course was set I felt as I’d felt just before each fight I’d had: tense, excited, more alive than normal and full of adrenaline. Yes fighting was my drug of choice, it gave me a high like none other.
I bent my knee, lowering myself so my head was about level with Gomez’s plump belly. She chortled “You have no pride, you’ll do anything.” Her chortle was cut off. Instead of kneeling and kissing her toe, I rammed my head into her plump gut. She gurgled and gasped. She staggered back. I quickly stood up and punched her chin. I knew I had to make as much of my initial advantage as possible. Ideally I wanted to knock the fight out of her before she recovered. That was going to be hard; so I’d have to settle for second best. I’d do as much damage as I could as quickly as I could. She staggered from the punch. I was onto her with the same slaps I’d seen my sister deal so successfully to Kelly Haldane. The same slaps that had so hammered Wendy Griffiths in the early stages of my fight with her. And they had the same effect on Gomez. She retreated, she staggered, she tried to defend. She ran out of room. The washroom was small and she got stuck between the washbasins and the back wall. Her defence failed. If she stopped my left arm slap she left her self open for the right arm slap. I kept pounding her for what seemed a full minute.
I slapped her high on her cheekbone. She sighed- a long “Oooh,” - instead of the grunts she’d given out before. Her eyes seemed to roll back. She dropped to her knees. I grabbed at her. I thought I’d won already, that my tactics had paid off. I felt almost let down; I’d let her off too lightly.
I was wrong. She recovered, perhaps the hard cold tiles had something to do with it. She bit my thigh. Even through my dress it hurt, later when I was cleaning myself up I found the bite drew blood. I stumbled back gasping. I don’t think I’d ever been bitten- well not that hard anyway. Maria, still on her knees shoved my stomach hard. As I stumbled back further I felt my shoes skate across the washroom tiles. Only by grabbing a washstand did I manage to keep from falling
Maria stood up. She seemed a bit shaky still. So I tried again to slap at her. After all I’d had a lot of success with that move already Instead she kicked at me. She was braced against the wall I was stretched out- my arm extended ready to strike her cheek. The kick hit my midriff, knocking air out of my lungs. It sent me stumbling back tried to do to me what I’d done to her and head butt my stomach. Again I felt my shoes skate. This time I managed to get my footing as I retreated.
Maria was even tougher than I thought. She had recovered far too quickly from the belting I'd given her with those slaps. I'd be lucky to win this battle. Then I told myself luck played no part and that I'd have to find her weaknesses. It was will power, and determination that won fights. I told myself I had that in spades. I slapped at her face to keep her off. The slaps hit, she didn't like that and parried them without attacking me for a few seconds. Was that the way to win? It certainly seemed like it. Again the adrenaline the endorphins flooded my system. I was keenly alive, every sense alert. I conquered my pain.
She ducked and tried to punch me, I turned; the punch hit my side. The next slap she parried and countered with a punch that slammed into my side. I was too stretched out to parry or avoid the blow. I staggered her blow made me groan with pain. But I could conquer the pain. Again the adrenaline the endorphins flooded my system. I was keenly alive, every sense alert.
I realised slapping was out if it left me exposed to another punch like that. And for the next few moments I was too busy fighting off a barrage of punches and kicks to think clearly. She stepped up and slammed her fists into my body, my sides, my face. She mixed her blows making it very hard to defend properly. I was able to duck or dodge some, perhaps most, of her punches but those that hit hurt me. I needed a circuit breaker. I reviewed my options hastily. Her success proved I couldn’t fend her off with my longer reach. She’d dodged beneath my slaps- even though I’d damaged her with them. I didn’t have the wind to engage in a punching match- I might in a moment when I’d recovered. But not just then when she was laying into me. I didn’t want to kick, I might lose my balance on the slippery tiles.
No the only thing was to get down. I did so, ducking under one punch. Then, thinking she’d expect a head butt- that was how I’d started the fight, I reached out for a football style tackle. It almost worked. Gomez just eluded my grasping hands but staggered. She would have fallen had her back not hit the wall.
That was enough. I braced myself by holding onto a sink and kicked. The kick ploughed into her big gut. She doubled over spluttering. I stepped forward, slapping as she tried to get upright again. I hit her half a dozen times before she started to defend. I backed off from slapping. I needed to mix up my attack, to keep her on the wrong foot. I punched, my left fist soaring towards her face. She blocked that. But she didn’t block my right fist which plunged deep into that soft belly of hers. I kept my attack going, slamming punches into her body, her face, her shoulders, anywhere I could see an opening. She blocked some but more and more got through. She gasped, she groaned, her defence slipped. Her face paled. She knew I was softening her up.
And I kept right on doing it. She managed to get away from the wall by aiming a kick at me. I backed away, she sidestepped. She moved to the centre of the room. That didn’t do her much good. I kept on hitting at her. I stood between her and the door. She couldn’t escape without getting past me. Every step she took towards me allowed me to hit her. I stepped back of to the side whenever she came towards me. By keeping my distance I kept out of her range. Sure my blows may not have had as much force as if I had stood a little closer. But they hit often. Her gasps and groans grew louder. I stepped in . I fired a blow at her belly. IT hit, it felt as if it sank right into the wrist. Gomez’s mouth opened, spittle sprayed out. She fell towards me, her arms clutching me for support.
“Give in?”I asked, pleased to have scored a victory but worn out by the effort to do so.I took a deep breath.
Then she bit my neck. I felt her teeth bite deep then draw back wrenching some flesh and more skin away. She spat it out. Shocked and hurting badly I faltered. She stood back then kicked my stomach. I doubled over, clutching my shattered belly. It took a couple more seconds for the pain to register. But just as when Wendy Griffiths slugged my stomach, so then with the kick. I felt nauseous, the pain seemed to seep deep inside m. Gomez seized my head , I pushed her upraised leg away. Otherwise it would have been all over; she’d have slammed my nose into her thigh and probably broken it.
I lurched back, out of her grip. She followed slamming punches at me. Some hit, some I avoided. I hit back at her, some of my blows connected too. But I knew I was running out of gas. I dreaded the thought that yet again my foe would outlast me. Was this going to end like my fights with St Leon and Wendy Griffiths? And what would happen then? I’d be under their thumb for ever. Resigning would be better. Then I thought of Kelly Haldane and her influence in the industry. What would she say?
I had to fight back- I had to win. I summoned up my remaining strength. But it wasn't just strength I needed: I needed a fight changing move. Again I reviewed my choices. Gomez had her fists up , hammering at my upper body. I had tried to hit low she blocked them and pushed me back on the defensive again. I blocked most of her blows and I hit at her face and upper body, where she wanted me to. Not that soft stomach. But that very success meant her stomach was undefended. I stepped back a pace. I fired a kick, it hit. I felt it sink deep into her gut. She groaned as a spittle sprayed from her mouth. She staggered back. She clutched her stomach. I kicked again, again it connected, a little lower this time. Gomez shook. I stepped in and seized her head. I pushed her back against the wall. I slammed her head into the wall . She groaned. She tried to push me away. Her effort was feeble. I slammed her head into the wall again.. She started to cry. I slammed it into the wall a third time. Her legs gave out and she sank to the floor.
“Don't mess with me again slut!” I hissed. I prodded her with my foot. “Tell your cronies they will need to find someone else to do their shit in the morning!”
I walked out. I had beaten one of the harpies. But more important I had beaten that black dog – the depression, the self hate that had made me sick inside ever since Wendy Griffiths beat me. No I was wrong, I’d been sick inside ever since that night when Kelly squashed my poor sister Bella. The same night when I found the truth that Peter Balfour just wanted me for sex and he was Kelly’s boyfriend. I felt good. But I realised I’d need to confront Kelly in the morning.
I knew what I had to do. I went back to my cubicle and emailed her , requesting an appointment at 8 am- the time I knew she normally arrived at work.
“Kelly, I’ve been in another fight.”
“Yes I see that.”I ‘d made no attempt to conceal my injuries.
“I beat Maria Gomez- I fought her in the washroom. She’d made my life a misery.”I told Kelly what the harpies had done to me.
“So you finally showed some backbone. When did this ..what you call persecution start?”
“The day you – err- admonished me about my fight with Wendy Griffiths. Merle must have overheard you and told everyone.”
“Of course she did why do you think I left my door open so she could hear! But you’ve done well, both in fighting back and in coming to me and confessing your problem. I’ll see people don’t ‘persecute’ you again. I hope you've learned your lesson." She gave me that enigmatic Kelly smile.
I again thank my editors, the Scribbler and Braveheart and all those who gave me ideas including Goldengirl and Elena and you the readers.
