Wendy Chapter 8: Mojitos and Massage

A tipsy blunder embarrasses Wendy

Chapter Eight: Mojitos and Massage

 

 

Tuesday morning started with rain drizzling from a lowering sky. The movie with Eric seemed to have happened in another world, a world without Dave. He couldn’t leave me alone, not for one day. He called me back for the very first room I completed. Once again, he pointed out a hair of his own that he planted, this time on the sink vanity. A large fleck of lint, also planted, enabled him to pretend I had not vacuumed. And out of nowhere, he claimed I had not changed the sheets but simply re-made the bed with dirty sheets. Another room failure. He followed me around as I made the bed with fresh sheets, vacuumed and disinfected the sink. When I turned to exit the bathroom, he had his clipboard and was blocking the doorway. His scalp was shiny under the few strands of hair he combed over.

 

“This is your fifth room failure this quarter and I must give you a written reprimand.” I felt crowded and trapped in the small bathroom. He handed me a pen and the clipboard.

 

“Sign there,” he instructed, moving closer than necessary to point to the line requiring my signature.

 

“Upon review of your latest progress report, I am denying you a raise. If you keep this up, Wendy, I’ll be forced to take measures neither of us want. Unless you decide to be more of a team player and cooperate with me.”

 

“Sir, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Excuse me.” I turned sideways and slipped past his bulk, my disinfectant spray raised like a weapon. I’d squirt him in the face if I had to. I think he realized this and stepped out of my reach. I returned to my cart and busied myself, stowing the spray and my soiled cleaning cloth. He laid the pink copy of the triplicate reprimand form on top of my box of paper-wrapped soaps and left without another word.

 

I had to work hard to catch up after spending so much time on the failed room. By day’s end, I was wrung out physically and emotionally. The pink reprimand form crinkled in my pocket as I drove home, reminding me of the encounter. I didn’t like how close he stood to me or how he blocked the doorway. He was trying to intimidate me physically.

 

When I got home, I prepared a chef salad, but found myself so nauseated I couldn’t force it down. I wrapped it and tucked it into the fridge. Pam was working the late shift so it was silent in the house. For once I wished for noisy, rude Pam. I would have welcomed any contact with a friendly person, no matter how annoying. Instead of reading or flipping through one of my new cookbooks as I usually did, I flopped in front of the TV.

 

The vibration of my phone in my uniform pocket woke me from a nightmare about being cornered by Bruce in a darkened room. The sunlight was failing and the living room was almost dark, lit only by the TV. The bright screen of my phone glowed. It was Eric. I struggled out of my cramped position and stretched to click on the lamp next to the couch.

 

“Hi, Wendy. I was wondering if you’ve had dinner.” He sounded so cheerful, I hated to bring him down.

 

“No, but I couldn’t eat anything. I’m not feeling well.”

 

“Oh, OK.” He seemed disappointed; I couldn’t reject him entirely.

 

“Maybe we could do something tomorrow?”  I suggested.

 

We made plans and said goodbye. I pulled off my uniform and crawled in bed.

 

At six the next morning, I was awoken by my alarm from another bad dream, this time of trying to swim against an inexorable current. I was groggy and irritable driving to work. I flipped someone off at London Road, then felt even crummier.

 

Dave was off and Brenda managing, so at least there was that. I couldn’t wake up and it was an effort to keep my pace up to standard. I didn’t need justified reprimands from Brenda on top of everything else. When I came out of 314 and saw Eric at my cart, I smiled. He looked serious and said, “You need to call Brenda, there’s a message for you.”

 

I entered the room and dialed the housekeeping office. Brenda answered and gave me the message that June Harvey wanted to see me. Eric was still in the corridor, looking worried. I tried for a reassuring smile, but managed only a sort of quirk to the corner of my mouth.

 

“June Harvey needs to see me. I’ll tell you all about it at lunch, Eric.”

 

Crossing the expanse of carpeting in the lobby once again, I made for the HR office. I found Ms. Harvey sitting with a man in a business suit, who rose to greet me.

 

“Peter Hetrick,” he said as he shook my hand. “Please have a seat, Ms. Gaff.”

 

I eased into one of the upholstered chairs in front of Ms. Harvey’s desk.

 

“Ms. Gaff,” he started, “June has briefed me on your complaint, but we need to go over the details just to make sure everything is clear. Then we can proceed with the investigation. If you don’t mind, I’ll take notes and will record this meeting on audio.” He gestured to a tiny recording device. In my distracted state, I mistook the device for a flash drive at first, then goggled at how small it was as he turned it on.

 

“For the record, June Harvey, Peter Hetrick and Wendy Gaff are present…” He went on to give the date and location.

 

“Now,” he said to me, “let’s start at the beginning. Please tell me about the first incident.”

 

If I had found June Harvey intimidating, Mr. Hetrick was even worse. They both scribbled notes as I rehearsed my now familiar catalogue of complaints.

 

“And yesterday he failed another room that I had cleaned properly, making that the fifth room failure and cause for a written reprimand. He cornered me in the bathroom and blocked my exit. He was standing too close and...” This sounded so trivial. “And I felt physically intimidated.”

 

“Is there any evidence you’d like to present?” he asked after I had finished.

 

“Yes, sir. Here are my commendations and past progress reports. I’d also like…” I felt small and insignificant in front of these two business professionals. “I’d like you to compare my rate of room failure to those of the other housekeepers. He fails me so often, but never anyone else. It’s personal.” There was a crack in my voice when I continued. “I do a good job. Brenda says I’m her best housekeeper. I don’t deserve this.”

 

In the first human gesture of the meeting, June handed me the box of tissues to wipe my tears. When I got myself under control, I looked up. It was hard to read their faces, but I thought I saw a glimmer of compassion in June Harvey’s expression.

 

Mr. Hetrick said, “Ms. Gaff, thank you for your time. We will continue the investigation and let you know if we need to speak to you again.”

 

He shook my hand, then Ms. Harvey did the same.

 

I took ten minutes for lunch, long enough to consume a yogurt and tell Eric the essentials of my interview. For some reason his solicitude and sympathy grated on my nerves. In my irritable, stressed state, his concern for me was just another burden, one more thing I had to worry about.

 

I had to push myself hard to catch up on my rooms. As Eric and I had planned the night before, we met at my house, both of us changed out of our uniforms. I felt guilty about my annoyance with him, so I put on my green and gold sundress, being careful with my makeup and hair. I was determined I would not be a downer tonight.

 

We decided to walk to the new Mexican restaurant on the main street of Aiken, three blocks away. The evening was cooling off from the day’s high of 85°. We had plenty of company, couples and families out for a stroll. There was a long line at the ice cream shop and the customers on the benches outside were occupied with their generous cones. Living in a small town had its advantages and this wholesome crowd was one of them. For the first time in a while, I was happy. I put my arm around Eric’s waist and squeezed him.

 

“This was a great idea, Eric.”

 

He circled my shoulders with his arm. The look he gave me made my stomach do a little flip-flop.

 

We chose outdoor seating and were surrounded by trellises full of lush foliage. I ordered a Mojito daiquiri. I deserved a treat after such a grueling few days. The cooling drink did its job and soon Eric had me laughing at his description of his encounter with hot chili peppers in Arizona, his brother-in-law’s home state.

 

“And the restaurant was wonderful. It had the grilles from a bunch 1950’s cars all along one wall. Trevor’s the one who gave me the bolo tie. I told him about our trip to the Double Crown. You can meet him at the family reunion.”

 

“You mentioned that before. How big is this family reunion?”

 

“Pretty big. We get the big pavilion in Asher Park. Maybe eight or ten families. No, I guess it’s bigger now that the cousins have all started their own families. Lots of little kids.”

 

The daiquiri cushioned my surprise and apprehension, but I was still alarmed. That would be over 50 people, easy. My face must have betrayed me.

 

“I wasn’t thinking,” Eric responded. “I never invited you, did I? Would you like to go? If it’s too big, that’s alright.”

 

“Yeah, I’d like to go, but that’s one big party you guys throw. When is it?”

 

“It’s usually in August.”

 

Talk moved on and I ordered another daiquiri. The food was interesting. Under the influence of the drink, I found myself going on about habanero peppers and tortilla soup, until I saw Eric’s amused look.

 

“Sorry, I love food, I love to cook.”

 

“You ever thought about being a chef?” Eric asked. I laughed.

 

“No, I’m serious, Wendy. People should do what they love and you love food.”

 

I had had daydreams about opening a catering business, but that seemed so far-fetched. Where on earth would I get money for opening a business? And schooling, you had to go to school too, more money I didn’t have. No, it was an impractical dream.

 

“What do you love?” I asked. I wanted to take the focus off me and my crazy ideas.

 

“Massage and teaching kids. That’s why I’m taking a break doing this job at the hotel. I can’t decide what I want to go to school for.”

 

“Massage? Lucky me! If you go to massage school, you can practice on me all you want.”

 

Boy, that drink went to my head. It was as much my brazen announcement as the image of being touched all over by Eric that made my face hot.

 

“You will be my first test subject, I promise,” he said, eyes dancing. 

 

Sunset signaled our waiter to go from table to table, lighting the votive candles. We paid up and made our way back to my house. It was still early, so I invited Eric in for coffee and some of the cheesecake I made the other day.

 

I started a pot of coffee and then tuned in the jazz radio station on the stereo in the living room.

 

“So you’d like to be my guinea pig for massage?”

 

I had never regretted a tipsy blunder more. Ignoring my discomposure, he took my hand in his and began rubbing the ball of my thumb.

 

“You need to relax, Wendy. Even your hand muscles are tight.”

 

Dave and the investigation, which had been out of my mind all evening, came back and my brow creased. No wonder I was tense.

 

“No,” Eric told me. “Don’t think about anything but your hand.” I did as he instructed. My tension melted away as I concentrated on how incredible it felt. He worked his way up my arm to my shoulder and then my neck, his strokes becoming more languid. It didn’t startle me when he brushed my hair aside and laid a kiss where my neck joined my shoulder.

 

Pam’s feet on the front steps called me up from the well of pleasure I’d been sinking into. She found us cuddled up on the living room sofa.

 

“You want some cheesecake, Pam?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, sure,” and she was on her way back to her bedroom. To primp, probably. 

 

 In the kitchen, I placed three slices of cheesecake on my nice dessert plates. Fetching a vegetable peeler and a bar of Ghiradelli chocolate, I created small chocolate curls for each piece. I poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the living room, then called Pam to get her slice. When I gave Eric his, he admired the presentation.

 

“You ought to do something with your skills, Wendy,” he said.

 

Pam had snagged her piece and retreated to her bedroom again.

 

“It’s nothing special, just your standard cheesecake.”

 

He took a bite and said, “It may be standard for you, but most people can’t make cheesecake. You’ve got a way with food.”

 

His compliment lingered after he said goodnight. If only I had the money…

Reviews

[AUU]

So since you've talked about being weak about structure, and have liked the comments I've made about details, I will continue to do that. Just to remind you that this is all opinion. You can totally disregard everything I wrote, I too tend to get a bit crazy.

1. In my last review I told you I read ahead, and I did that because I was interested in seeking where you take this Dave thing. Kudos on that.
2. The rain drizzle is foreboding.
3. "…a world without Dave. He couldn't leave me alone…" He was a bit confusing. I know you were talking about Dave, but you could've also been talking about Eric. Maybe you could use it as an opportunity to call Dave a name. You know, something to hammer in how Wendy feels about Dave.
4. Dave is an a*s. I think I would have shoved that piece of hair down his throat.
5. You know, I've been going back and forth between wanting Dave to do something more damning to himself. I think the closest he got was that scene where Wendy pushed up against the handle. Something more to really justify how uncomfortable he's making her feel. But I really do like the way it's playing out. It's going to be a battle to convince HR, that's for sure.
6. "He was trying to intimidate me physically." I feel as though this line is redundant on the reader's behalf, in that it would be better suited for Wendy to go over in detail what she found so uncomfortable about the experience.
7. Oh no, Dave ruined food for Wendy! Lol
8. Hmmm. Wendy keeps going on about how rude and noisy Pam is. I do recall incidents where her actions could be perceived at much, but I feel as though it could also be perceived as being reclusive. If you'd like to continue saying how rude Pam is, maybe give her more of a voice to demonstrate such.
9. "Oh, Ok." He seemed disappointed…" Sorry for this, but I have to point out a filler word that you were so wonderful for posting that blog post about (it's literally driving me crazy in my own writing, so thanks for that! Lol).
10. Wendy flipping off someone was a shock! Nice showing how much Dave is affecting her mood.
11. The touch with the flash drive/recorder was a very surreal detail. She's totally out of it.
12. "I eased into one of the upholstered chairs…" I feel "I eased," is at odds with how Wendy feels.
13. "..his solicitude and sympathy grated on my nerves." I think you can drop the "on." This was a fantastic line. Very astute of you too. Everyone's been there. Having s**t happen to you, and there's always that friend saying, "I'm sorry," over and over again. Makes you want to scream.
14. So I don't know what to think about Pam. Earlier I said she doesn't seem all that rude to me. So maybe it's Wendy's off expectations of her, which make me feel as though you should write her to be actually rude.
15. So this was what I was talking about when I referred to the pay off. And having Eric suggest it was a fine way in bringing him in. Another example of how he cares for Wendy. He cares so much I wonder if he'll do anything crazy? Lol….
16. It's cathartic to see Wendy in a better mood by the chapter is through. I think that's the way her life's been going that I now want to see her with a happy ending. Writer in me still wants to see her crash and burn. Oh well.

[SweetNutmeg]

Many thanks again for such helpful feedback. You're right, I haven't shown Pam to be as rude and noisy as she is inside my head. In my head, she's awful. I'll try to figure out a way to shoehorn that in for my readers to see for themselves.

[Shep]

sue Dave and she probably get the money and much more... another awesome chapter do I hear wedding bells in the future?

[SweetNutmeg]

Hmm, suing Dave directly would be an interesting spin on things. She sure could use the money!