Wendy Chapter 10: The Fourth of July

Fireworks of several types

Chapter Ten: The Fourth of July

 

I thanked god Monday was the first day of Dave’s week-long vacation. I called in late, and was grateful Brenda didn’t ask for an explanation. It took two hours to take care of my business at the court house.

 

This was also the day June Harvey and Mr. Hetrick started their investigation. I was unaware of this until lunch time. When I entered housekeeping, Patricia gestured me over.

 

“They get to you yet?” she asked me.

 

“Who?”

 

“HR. June and the guy from Chicago.”

 

“No,” I said, willing my face muscles into a mask of relaxed curiosity. “June and who?”

 

“Some guy from HQ, all the way from Chicago. It must be something important to bring in a hot shot from HQ.” Leaning in, she whispered, “We’re not supposed to talk about it, but they asked me a million questions about Dave.”

 

“Why would they do that?”

 

“It sounded--” She stopped and leaned in closer. “It sounded like he was being investigated about something to do with sex. Do you know anything about that?”

 

“No,” I said, trying to stay calm. “No idea. Do you think he’s done something?”

 

Patricia was the company gossip. If she didn’t know why he was being investigated, probably no one else would know either.

 

“I told them I didn’t know of anything going on. But you never know…” She was a kind woman, despite her wagging tongue. She didn’t look happy about that idea.

 

“Yes, you never know. I’ll see you later.”

 

***

 

Eric caught me as I was washing dishes at seven, calling me on his break. The HR team had gotten to him too.

 

“What did they ask you?” I finished drying my hands with the phone tucked against my shoulder.

 

“A bunch of questions about how fair I felt things were. Did I feel that certain people were singled out or given favors, that sort of thing.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I told them everything I knew. They asked me a lot of questions about the night of the flood. I felt concerned about you that night. You were acting so freaked out, I knew Dave must have been up to something. So I told them all about how I found you.”

 

“How you found me?” We had never discussed the flood.

 

“Wendy, I saw him there with his arm up, blocking you. I knew there was something wrong, but you refused to tell me anything. I was really worried. That’s why I got you that room, so he couldn’t trap you downstairs, in housekeeping.”

 

“What did they say about that?” I had twisted the dish towel around my hands and I pulled it tighter, trying to stop my rush of panic.

 

“Nothing much, just took notes. It’s a good thing I saw that happen. Good in a lot of ways. Who knows what he might have done if I hadn’t shown up.”

 

The trembling that had been creeping up on me was getting to be too much. I grasped for a change of subject.

 

“Hey, when do the fireworks start this year?”

 

“What does that have to do with--”

 

I cut him off. “Let’s not talk about that any more. I want to talk about something else.”

 

“Umm…” I could almost hear his brain changing gears. “The show gets started at nine,” he said. I could tell he was hurt.

 

“Eric, thank you for taking care of me that night, thank you for telling HR what happened. I appreciate it, more than I can say, but I can’t talk about it anymore. I want to talk about something happy. Do we need to get there early to find parking?”

 

He paused, as if about to object, then answered, “No, there’s plenty of parking at Asher park.”

 

***

 

It was a delicious release from anxiety, not having Dave around. Life was so peaceful without him. I worked hard until Wednesday afternoon. As I clocked off, the weather boded well for a clear Fourth of July the next day.

 

When I got home, I called Uncle Philip.

 

 “It’s a long time since I heard from my favorite niece,” Uncle Philip said when he answered.

 

Between the stuff going on at work and Eric’s attentions, I had neglected Uncle Philip. I meant to make up for that.

 

“I know, work’s been busy, but I have tomorrow off. Eric and I are going to see the fireworks at Asher Park. Can you come with us?” I asked.

 

“Oh no, fireworks are for lovers, not uncles. You go with your man.”

 

“Aren’t you going to watch them at all?” I felt sad at the idea that Uncle Philip would be alone.

 

“I plan on watching the Chicago fireworks on TV and going to bed early. I’m not a youngster anymore.”

 

“Then you have to have lunch with me. I’m off on Friday too. Pomodoro’s?”  I suggested.

 

“Anything for you, Wendy. Meet at one by the fountain as usual?”

 

“See you at one o’clock.”

 

***

 

Eric worked second shift on Wednesday, so we solidified our plans that night, while he was on his break. He would come to my house and we could walk to the Aiken street festival, and then drive to Asher Park to see the fireworks.

 

The street festival attracted a large crowd every year. Aiken cultivated an all-American small town atmosphere to entice tourists, and the Fourth of July festival was the peak of the season. Most of the quaint shops and local art galleries were far beyond my modest budget, but it was nice to window shop with an ice cream cone or enjoy one of the several restaurants.

 

The event boasted rows of booths selling food, handicrafts and souvenirs, but what brought me back every year were the midway games. I loved throwing darts and the ring toss.

 

Eric and I were relaxed; he was in jeans, I in my red sundress. After procuring the obligatory funnel cake, we strolled between the midway games. I did well at the ring toss and won a large stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear. Eric used up all his game coupons at the basketball corner. I didn’t mind watching him go through the motions of shooting; he was grace in motion and I was not the only one who couldn’t keep their eyes off him. The attendant told me sometimes they went an entire day with not a single winner, the shot was so difficult. Eric managed to hit the rim several times, doing better than most.

 

Not needing another stuffed animal, I gave mine away to a crying four year old and dragged Eric away from the basketball game. The Lion’s Club was selling fried chicken dinners to benefit one of their causes and we enjoyed our dinner seated on the grass at the town square park.

 

I liked living within walking distance of downtown Aiken. It enabled us to slip away to my air-conditioned house for after-dinner coffee prior to the fireworks.

 

We nabbed a prime bench at Asher Park, overlooking the river where the fireworks display would be.

 

Tired out from my day in the sun, I was content to put my head on Eric’s shoulder and listen to his family stories while we watched the sun set and waited for the fireworks to begin. Some of the East Aiken stories were quite hair-raising. His grandmother was apparently a very good shot with both hand gun and rifle.

The fireworks were spectacular. The cool breeze brought goose bumps to my skin and whisked away the smoke from the fireworks as they went from single bursts to more elaborate displays. They finally climaxed with a thunderous, resounding riot of colored fireworks bursting and cascading down over the lake. When we made our way through the crowd to my car, Eric suggested we have some dessert at his place.

 

I hadn’t been to Eric’s apartment since helping him move in. With Pam liable to walk in at any moment, we had never enjoyed uninterrupted privacy. We would have that at Eric’s apartment. My stomach fluttered at the idea of being alone, all alone, with Eric. I took extra pleasure in his arm around my shoulder and thought about what we could do with that privacy.

 

Eric got us settled with chocolate mousse and a dessert wine. I expressed my approval of the wine and mousse. He looked pleased. He confessed he had consulted the hoity-toity wine shop owner on the fancy side of town.

 

As good as the dessert was, I was distracted by racy ideas. Eric had apparently been thinking about the same thing. When he took my wineglass form me, we joined in a kiss that had more heat than any we had exchanged before. I pulled him closer to feel his strong muscled back. Pressing me back into the cushion, he began trailing kisses down my neck and into the top of my dress. Then he stroked my waist and a mental alarm went off. I bolted up and before I was aware of doing it, I found I'd pushed Eric off me, pushed him so hard he slid off the couch.

 

“Wendy, what is it?” He was looking up at me from the floor.

 

My mind balled up and I couldn’t breathe. I gasped for air, then began to cry. Eric eased onto the couch next to me, tried taking my hand. I grasped his hand hard, clinging to his strength and compassion. When he put his arm around me, I turned towards him, burrowing into his warm, steady affection.

 

After a time, Eric asked me, “Wendy, what happened?”

 

“I was with you, then suddenly I was with Bruce, it was Bruce touching me and I just... I don't know, reacted.” I was shaking uncontrollably.

 

“Who’s Bruce?”

 

“My mom's boyfriend. When I was thirteen he--” I stopped, trying hard to contain myself, failing.

 

“What did he do, Wendy?”

 

“He was drunk. He sort of trapped me, pushed me against the door, kissed me, put his hand under my shirt.” My crying was uncontrollable.

 

“I'm so sorry Wendy,” Eric said. “Did he...”

 

“No, he didn't. I kneed him in the balls as hard as I could. He left me alone after that, but it's like…” I hugged Eric tighter. “It's like he's there again. If something happens a certain way, someone touches me a certain way, I just respond. I keep thinking I got away, but I can't get him out of my head, he's still there.” I couldn’t stop the sobs that came. I had never told anyone what had happened.

 

Hidden away in my private mind like a shameful secret, I had always minimized what had happened. Telling Eric made the incident expand into something important, something more than I’d ever thought of before. From that day onward, I had feared Bruce in a new way, and now that fear was spilling over into my current life. I couldn’t keep it in its compartment anymore.

 

Eventually I stopped crying and just rested in Eric’s arms, feeling safety pour into me from his embrace.

 

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Eric asked after we had been silent for a long while.

 

The idea surprised me. I had never spent the night with a man. I knew Eric expected nothing from me; it was a simple invitation to sleep. The suggestion was appealing. But no, I needed to get home, get into my familiar environment.

 

Eric walked me right up to the door of my car and I promised to call him when I got home.

 

***

 

After my confession about Bruce, I felt tender and fragile. The next morning I took my time in a hot bath, too sensitive to endure my usual brisk shower. I decided against doing chores and climbed back into bed with some hot chocolate to read a good book.

 

At ten, my phone played Eric’s ringtone, a soft chiming. I felt shy after totally melting down in front of him, but mustered the courage to answer. He wanted to ascertain my well-being before going to work.

 

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

 

“You know what fine stands for? Fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.” His voice had playfulness in it and I laughed.

 

“How are you really doing, Wendy?” he asked.

 

“No, truly, I’m ok. A little sensitive, but ok. Thank you for putting up with my freak out.” I was embarrassed again. What must he think of me, so unstable as to fall apart like that?

 

“Can I stop by tonight? Maybe we could have some Chinese?” he asked. “I'm off at seven.”

 

“That sounds good, Eric.” I tried to put as much affection and gratitude into my voice as possible.

 

“I'll pick up some shrimp in lobster sauce after work, on my way over. I'll be there by 7:30 or so.”

 

***

 

While on the phone with Eric, I’d forgotten my lunch date with Uncle Philip. I managed to do some laundry before heading out to the mall to meet him at our usual place. Pausing to scan the crowd sitting on the fountain’s edge, I looked right over Uncle Philip. He was so changed I almost didn’t recognize him. His clothes hung loosely, his eyes had dark circles and his face was gaunt. My stomach sank. What was wrong?

 

Once we were settled in a booth and had placed our orders, I took a few deep breaths and then plunged in.

 

“Uncle Philip, what’s wrong? You look terrible.”

 

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather. Dr. Zimmerman is doing some tests. Nothing to worry about, dear. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Dr. Zimmerman is very good.”

 

“HIV?” I whispered. I couldn’t make my voice any louder because I lacked the breath to speak aloud.

 

“No, no, sweetheart,” Uncle Philip said, smiling. “Tom and I dodged that bullet long ago.”

 

This didn’t bring the relief I’d wanted. If it wasn’t HIV, what was it? It was something serious to make him look so bad. I forced myself to inhale slowly before speaking again.

 

“I’m worried about you. What tests is Dr. Zimmerman doing?”

 

“I’m scheduled to have some blood work done to rule out obvious things.” Uncle Philip tried to give me a reassuring look, but with his hollow cheeks, it did not reassure me.

 

Our bread sticks arrived. Uncle Philip forced the conversation away from his health by asking about Pam and Eric.

 

“Eric’s fine, but Pam, not so good,” I responded. I detailed the Ross problem, but half way through I could see that this further worry was doing Uncle Philip’s health no good. I kept the death threat and restraining order to myself. Instead I asked if he had invited her to lunch.

 

“Oh yes,” said Uncle Philip. “She hasn’t returned my calls.”

 

I sighed. “I’ll ask her to return your call. I don’t know if she will, but we can hope, right?”

 

Our waiter placed our entrees in front of us. Despite his reassurances, I was still very concerned about Uncle Philip and didn’t have much heart for my salad. I covered my lack of appetite by telling him I was having dinner with Eric that night.   

 

***

 

“Eric, you're too much,” I gasped, laughter still threatening to spill out.

 

He had been telling stories about second shift at the hotel. I put down my chopsticks and pushed my plate onto the coffee table, among the various cartons and sauce packets. Eric put his plate on the table as well, and opened his arms.

 

“Do with me what you will, I have been immobilized by a food coma. I am helpless to resist,” he said in a doleful tone.

 

I responded by snuggling up against him and kissing his cheek. He pulled me closer.

 

“Wendy, what can I do to help you?”

 

I pulled away a bit to look into Eric’s face, confused. “Help me what?”

 

“We can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. What can I do that will help? What shouldn’t I do? I want to be a help, not another problem.”

 

“You’re never a problem, Eric. It’s my brain that’s the problem. Why can’t I just get over that stupid incident?”

 

“It didn’t sound stupid to me. It sounded pretty scary. How big was this guy, Bruce?” Eric asked.

 

“Over six feet tall.”

 

“And how big were you? You were thirteen? A lot smaller, I bet.”

 

I nodded, fear blossoming in my chest, old fear, fear familiar from years of nightmares and images I couldn’t escape. It was a fear twined with shame and guilt and self-blame. But this time I wasn’t alone. I finally had a witness. Someone who cared. Eric pulled me even closer as I started crying. I hung onto him as a pillar of strength and safety.

 

“You don’t have to do anything special, Eric. Just… just keep on caring.” My voice broke as I continued, “No one cared, back then. No one gave a damn. I was quiet, I was a good student, I never complained, and no one ever noticed. Or if they did they just wrote it off as another underprivileged kid from the bad part of town. Being from East Aiken, people tend to… ignore you, expect you to fail, write you off without giving you a chance. I didn’t have a grandmother with a shotgun to protect me.”

 

I gave a little choked laugh. “I love hearing about your grandmother.”

 

“You remind me of her, Wendy. Strong. You’re not lying down under this Dave situation, you’re fighting back.”

 

The idea of Dave jerked me up. “I’ll be damned if I am going to let him get away with this.”

 

“See? A real rebel. That’s what I love about you.”

 

Love? But he didn’t mean it that way. Did he? No. We’d only been dating for a couple of weeks.

 

“When did we first meet, Wendy?” His mind was drifting in the same direction. “I saw you around and thought ‘I’d like to get to know that lady.’ I’ve got a thing about classy brunettes.”

 

“I think it was when I had a clogged toilet in one of my rooms. I called down to housekeeping and Sheila sent you.”

 

“God bless that broken toilet. The best thing that ever happened to me.” He kissed my hair.

 

“I feel pretty lucky Sheila sent you.”

 

“Harlan Junior was a stroke of luck too. Who’d  have thought we’d be brought together by a drunken cowboy? That settles it,” Eric announced. “We are the luckiest couple in the world.”

 

“We’re a couple?” The idea thrilled me.

 

“Any woman who throws me across a room has won my heart forever. I’m yours if you want me.” Eric accompanied this with a sappy look.

 

I kissed him. 

 

***

 

The next day, Saturday, I returned to work. I felt lighter, as if unburdening myself about Bruce had lifted a physical weight from me. I was humming as I wiped down the mirror in the bathroom of 304 when Dave did it. I didn’t see him until he was in the doorway, trapping me again. This time he deliberately blocked the doorway, arms resting on the door jambs.

 

“People from Chicago have been here, asking questions,” he said.

 

I looked at him and turned away from the mirror in slow motion.

 

“You know what they are asking about?” His face was a mask of malevolence

 

I shook my head, continuing my turn towards him, spray bottle in my left hand, behind me.

 

“They’re asking about the night it flooded.” The look on his face seemed inhuman in my petrified gaze.

 

“The night I caught you carousing with that houseman. I had to tell them everything about your whorish ways. I had to tell them all I knew.”

 

I blinked, once. The dizziness had passed and I felt energy surge up from my stomach into my limbs.

 

Without a tremble in my voice I said, “Sir, we’re not supposed to talk about that with each other. You need to back up. You’re blocking me in.”

 

My spray bottle came up and I aimed it at him. He dropped his arms, but stayed long enough to say, “That houseman won’t always be there to rescue you.” 

 

***

 

I surprised myself. I didn’t collapse in fear and trembling and tears. I was pissed off. My whorish ways? Rescue? I’d never be without a spray bottle from here on out. I knew how to deal with Bruce, I knew how to deal with Dave. My immediate task was to complete my rooms and clock out, but then I would be making a beeline for Ben’s Sporting Goods and calling Eric.

 

At Ben’s a clerk helped me choose some pepper spray, explaining how to operate it, and advised an aerosol alarm sounder as well. I attached both items to my key chain.

 

Eric found me a wrestler cousin, Scott. I didn’t have time for a formal martial arts course, so Scott met me at Eric’s apartment after my trip to Ben’s and showed me three common grips and how to release myself from them. He knew a few dirty tricks as well, including the best way to break someone’s nose with your forehead and how to hobble them with high-heeled shoes. His last advice was “Run. Scream and run.”   

 

After I thanked Scott and he departed, Eric and I opted to go out for dinner, to the neighborhood pizzeria.

 

Settled in to wait for our triple meat pizza, Eric asked, “Wendy, what are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to contact June Harvey. If Dave threatens me in a more direct and clear way, I’ll go to the police. And I am going to be very careful.”

 

“How can you be careful? You’re up there on the third floor all alone all day.” Eric was angry and that was the last thing I needed.

 

“He won’t try anything on my floor. In housekeeping, yeah, but not where guests could hear me scream for help.”

 

“D****t, Wendy, don’t you realize how serious this is?”

 

“Eric.” I said his name with controlled irritation. “Eric, I know how serious this is. I’m the one he threatened. I’m the one who was trapped in a bathroom with him. I’m prepared to take care of myself.”

 

“You have to quit,” he said. Eric looked as stubborn as I had ever seen him look.

 

“No. He’s not going to win.” I was determined of that.

 

“Then come stay with me. You don’t know what he might do.”

 

“No--” I was interrupted by the waitress bringing our soft drinks. I waited until she left and reiterated, “No. He’s not going to drive me out of my own home. I refuse.”

 

“OK.” Eric was trying to sound reasonable. “Let me come stay with you. You can’t be there all alone, with just Pam. I could sleep on the couch.”

 

“That’s not practical and we both know that. No, I just need to be careful. Scott helped me and I am armed.” I jingled my key chain with pepper spray and alarm sounder. “I doubt he would assault me anyway. He knows HQ is watching.”

 

“I could get you shooting lessons.”

 

I laughed. “Eric, give it up. I’ll be fine.”

 

He looked rebellious, but said nothing.

 

Wanting to direct his attention elsewhere, I asked about his sister in Arizona as our pizza arrived. He let me change the subject.

 

***

 

Monday, during my lunch break, I went to the HR office once again. June Harvey was available and invited me in.

 

“Ms. Harvey, Dave threatened me and tried to physically intimidate me again. He also informed me he lied about the night of the flood, claiming I’d had sexual relations with a fellow employee.” This time I wasn’t crying. That flame inside me demanded justice. He would pay for everything.

 

June Harvey asked detailed questions again and I reported the entire incident.

 

“Thank you, Ms. Gaff. We will look into this.”

 

That was all the reply I’d get? Then she caught my eye as we shook hands. She was on my side. I could tell.

 

My surge of optimism was smothered when I returned from lunch and Dave started in on me, finding fault with my rooms. Every time he came near me, I raised my spray bottle. I took it with me on my afternoon break; it went everywhere with me.

 

 

Author's Note

All comments and observations are welcome, as usual. In this chapter, I'd particularly like to know if anything struck you as improbable or unrealistic.

Reviews

[AUU]

1. That's good that you're writing about the other workers being investigated. Makes your world feel whole.
2. Nice touch with Wendy trying to pacify herself with the dish towel.
3. Fireworks start at 8pm for you guys? Out here in the northeast they don't start until 9pm because it's not dark enough at 8pm.
4. "…the weather boded well for a clear fourth of July the next day." I think it's Fourth of July.
5. D: Fireworks are for everybody not just "lovers." Lol Uncle Philip is making me feel bad that sometimes I go by myself.
6. "selling food, handicrafts, curios?" What's that. Do you mean churros?
7. Funnel cake > fried dough.
8. "Eric tried the hardest basketball shot…" I think this reads funny. Maybe try another way to say it.
9. Never drag a man away from a carnival game damnit. We need to spend a month's worth of salary to win. Stuff animal or not! (the dragging comment was on point!)
10. I know the fireworks aren't the important part of the date, but I wish you spent more time describing them. Just a nitpick.
11. Ahhhh so Bruce seemed to have traumatized her more than what I thought. Good bit there. This also makes sense to why Eric was hesitant in the next chapter. So never mind about that comment. Almost wish there was more of a comparison to Dave's interactions to Bruce in the early chapters.
12. I'm not a medical student, but I think HIV is tested by use of blood. I also thought doctor's run multiple tests on blood, so wouldn't giving more blood be redundant? I'm probably wrong.
13. Funny that Pam is still shunning Uncle Philip. Their mom must have really messed up her perception of him.
14. Okay. So her first thinking Dave was the one who slashed her tires, makes more sense now…
15. I say go all the way and have Dave call her a s**t. Just an opinion.
16. This Dave is going to fry I hope (reader). But he won't (writer).

Sorry that I skipped this one. Just an accident. As I said in the comments, it put more things into perspective.

[SweetNutmeg]

OK, I misunderstood your comment about HIV. Now it makes sense. I expect the doc sent off the HIV test immediately and is waiting for the results of the other tests. I'll see if I can make that make sense to the reader. Or maybe just simplify things? Anyway, I'll work on that.

I'll look up sunset times for the Fourth of July in the Midwest.I live in the Appalachians so have no idea about sunset in the Midwest.

Thank you once again for your time and attention. You are very helpful.

[Shep]

spray the b*****d and see the little man fall to the ground crying to his mamma. Awesome Chapter

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you!