Company Ink by E.L. Lewis

t w e n t y – e i g h t

"Wait, say that again," I probe Kitty as we fix our make-up in the bathroom mirror. "The retreat is at Blake Island? Seriously?" How did I miss that?

This morning we received the itinerary for the retreat this weekend. The coach bus will be at the firm to pick us up at noon sharp (Nadine underlined and highlighted the word sharp in red, kinda aggro but I guess people tend to be late), then we head to the ferry terminal, and after an hour we arrive at the resort. The next two days are stacked with team building activities, the first one starting only thirty minutes after we arrive. So much for downtime.

Kitty opens her mouth wide and applies another coat of mascara. "Yeah, kind of funny, right? I wonder if Mr. Pearson owns the island."

I blink at my colleague. "He doesn't own an island, Kit. He's a lawyer, not a Saudi prince."

Kitty shrugs, her eye twitching. She definitely just poked herself with her mascara wand. Rookie mistake. "I wish there was an island named after me," she muses to herself. "Kitty Island, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"There's an island in Japan called Aoshima, its nickname is Cat Island. There are like 20 residents and over one hundred and twenty cats. That's kind of like a kitty island."

Kitty tosses her makeup back into her purse and faces me. "I love cats! That sounds like heaven!"

"Yeah, totally," I lie, not wanting to have the cats versus dogs, argument with yet another feline fanatic.

"You wanna grab some lunch now?" Kitty asks as we exit the bathroom. "I'm not like super hungry but I could go for a salad or something."

"Oh, I can't. I'm supposed to have lunch with Adrian." I instantly wince. Fuck. Shouldn't have said that.

"Adrian?" Kitty wiggles her eyebrows. "On a first name basis, are you? What's going on there, Cass?"

Bless full coverage foundation, without which, Kitty might see me blushing. "Nothing's going on, I just—I just call him Adrian sometimes."

"Hmm, is that so?" Kitty hums. "I call him Adrian sometimes too."

I blanch. "Wait, what? Why do you call him Adrian? Did you guys…I mean, have you—" Oh my God, my heart is beating way too fast right now.

Kitty laughs, waving me off. "No, Cassie, relax. I've never slept with him. Mr. Cav interned under my dad when he was an undergrad. That's actually how I got this job."

"Oh," I sigh with relief. She totally got me. "Your dad's a lawyer too?"

"He was yeah, but he retired and closed his practice just before I graduated," she explains quickly as we stop by my desk. "So, seeing as you practically fainted at the idea of me possibly having a thing with Mr. Cav, I wanna say that there's something going on there?"

I shake my head vigorously. "Nope, I was just concerned...for your safety." What the fu—Lie better.

"My safety? Right..." Kitty says, not believing a word I'm saying. "Well, if you ever wanna talk boys, I'm here."

"Okay," I peep. "But we won't, 'cause there's nothing going on."

Kitty taps her nails melodically on my desk. "Lunch with Mr. Pearson on Tuesday, lunch with Mr. Cav today," she sings. "Interesting."

"Kitty..." I warn her in a strained tone. This is not appropriate work talk. "Don't."

"Fine, fine." She throws her hands up in surrender. "But you should know that I did tell Nadine to bunk us together at the resort. I'll get the truth out of you one way or another." She pauses as she heads back to her desk. "Maybe you just need a little liquid courage to open up."

And I thought working with Kitty was going to be boring. Never judge a book by its name.

Kitty's observation is super disconcerting. Am I being that obvious with Adrian and Blake? Does the whole office think something is going on? Or is it just Kitty? Oh my God! If David thought something was happening, he'd totally rat on me! Oh, I need to be more careful.

I nervously knock-on Adrian's office door. Maybe lunches with my bosses aren't a good idea. But it's just lunch, right? People need to eat! It's a vital part of existing. So, what if two people of the opposite sex who work together sometimes eat together? No biggie. It's fine. I am fine.

"Come in," Adrian sighs, and I shuffle inside to find him glaring at his screen.

"Hey," I begin. "You ready to go?"

Adrian looks up at me, his expression annoyed. "Shit!" He checks the time on the clock hanging on the wall. "Fuck!"

I'm startled yet somewhat entertained by his outburst. "Is everything okay? Or is this just the new way we're greeting each other now?"

Adrian runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry, it's just—" He lets out an exasperated grumble. "I need to submit this patent and the server is down, and I have to wait for IT to fix it, and I—"

"Can't go for lunch?" I offer lightly, disappointment washing over me. "That's okay, I can get some food with Kitty."

"I'm sorry, Cassie. I was really looking forward to this." Adrian's apologetic eyes meet mine.

"It's fine. It's just lunch, Adrian."

"It's not fine. I made a commitment to you and I…I don't like—" he sighs. "I just…I'm sorry."

For someone who's so afraid of commitments he sure as hell feels bad breaking them.

"How about I take you for dinner instead?" he suggests, his tone almost pleading. "Please?"

"I can't tonight, I'm going to my parents' house to help them pack."

Something I am so not looking forward to. I haven't seen either of my parents since that shit show of a dinner a few weeks ago. I've spoken with my mom a couple of times, but Dad, nothing.

Adrian's eyes soften. "Are you going to talk to your father?"

I stiffen. "No."

"I think you should, Cassie. They're leaving in under two weeks, your opportunities are fleeting." Adrian's phone rings. "Fuck, I have to get this. Listen, Cassie, just think about it, okay? You might feel better and it might help."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Dr. Phil," I mutter, exiting his office. Talk to Dad? Hah. Laughable.

Kitty looks up from her desk. "You look blue," she notes.

"I'm fine," I say sternly. "Change of plans, it seems as though I am free for lunch."

Kitty grins, grabbing her purse. "Excellent! Let's go get our salads on."

***

"What the hell is this?" I ask, holding up a ratty doll type...thing.

It's almost 8 pm and my eyes are no longer functional. Why are all boomers such hoarders? My parents must have three storage containers worth of crap in their house. I don't see how they're going to get everything packed in time. They might need to hire a professional, or just burn the place down seeing as they're only taking 'the essentials'.

My mom cranes her neck, eyeing the scary doll. "Awe, this is the voodoo doll you and Monique made when you were thirteen."

I shriek, tossing the demon toy to the side. "Oh my God! Why would you keep it? Also, what? I don't remember ever making voodoo dolls!"

"You don't remember? Really?" My mother laughs. "I think you made this after you caught James, cheating on you. I think the doll is supposed to be that Kelly girl."

Yikes. Clearly, I was more demented as a teenager than I thought. "And you let me? That's kind of creepy, mom. How could you let your only daughter toy with dark magic?"

My mother scoffs. "As if I could ever stop you from doing anything, Cassandra. You weren't necessarily the most obedient child. If I recall correctly, you said if you couldn't make the doll then you'd drop out of school and become a stripper."

I grimace, letting out an embarrassed laugh. "At least I was a good negotiator, right?"

"That you were, honey, that you were," she sighs, looking around the basement. "I can't believe we're actually leaving. So many memories." She picks up a picture frame. "Remember this day? You just graduated from Miss Lemon's Dance Academy, gosh, you must have been what? Six here?" She smiles, gazing at the picture. "You were so little and cute."

I grab the photo out of her hand. Little Cassie is in the center, wearing a pink tutu and holding up a DIY certificate, with my mother on the right and my instructor on the left.

"Dad's not in it," I observe quietly, placing it down and flipping through all the other photographs. "He's not in any of these."

"Your father worked a lot, honey," my mom says in a whisper. "He wanted to be there."

"Yeah," I sigh, gently placing the photos in the box. He could have been there if he tried hard enough. He just didn't care. Sadness seeps into my veins. I stand up, dusting my knees off just as my phone vibrates.

Adrian: Hey, how's it going? Just wanted to check-in

Cassie: It's fine, still at my parents. Just about to leave actually

Adrian: Oh, did you want a ride home? I'm in the area

I stare at my screen. What?

Cassie: Why are you in West Seattle?

Adrian: Running errands

Cassie: It's a residential neighborhood...

Adrian: Do you want a ride or not?

Oof. Someone doesn't like being caught in a lie. A ride does sound nice though, I've already had to Uber one way, might as well save some money.

Cassie: Okie, sure. How long will you be?

Adrian: Fifteen minutes. I'll text you when I'm out front

Cassie: kk, see you in a bit

I put my phone away and head upstairs with my mother. Every painting that was on the wall is now carefully packed away, most knickknacks thrown out, stacks of boxes taking over the living room.

My eyes dart briefly to the study where my dad is sitting. Talk to your dad. Your opportunities are fleeting. Unease and nervousness swirl around my mind. Should I? Will it actually help? My feet, with no direction from my brain, begin to take me towards the study. I knock timidly on the door, closing my eyes, my heart clenching.

"Dad?" I ask quietly. "Can I uh—talk to you for a second?"

My father is sitting behind his desk, flipping through a novel. He lowers his glasses and peers up at me. "Of course, Cassandra. What did you want to talk about?"

Fiddling with my fingers, I pace back and forth in front of his desk. How do I start? "Dad, I wanted to talk to you about how…umm…well, the thing is—" I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

"Cassandra?" My dad frowns, closing his book. "Is something wrong?"

I lick my lips as I stare at my father, a flood of emotions rushing through my body; hurt, anger, frustration....fear.

"I didn't like how you talked about me when Adrian was here a few weeks ago," I mumble. "You hurt my feelings."

My father swallows, shifting in his seat. "How did I hurt your feelings?"

My body tenses. "You um…said that I wasn't the type of woman someone like Adrian would be interested in and that…uh hurt," I stammer. "Why did you say that dad? Do you honestly believe that? I just…I don't understand your reasoning."

Dad takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean to put you down, Cassandra, I was just trying to ascertain Adrian's intentions. I just don't want you to get hurt."

My heart starts beating faster, anger overpowering the fear, the hesitation. "That's funny because you ended up hurting me!" I exclaim, my voice rising. "You always hurt me!"

"Cassandra..."

"No!" I state sternly. "Listen to me! I'm your daughter, you should love me and support me and lift me up! Not make me out to be this pathetic person that's not good enough for other people. What makes you say that anyway?" I throw my hands up in the air, no longer in control of the words spilling out of my mouth like bullets. "You know what? You don't even know me! How can you have an opinion about someone you don't even know?!"

"I do know you," he says quietly, his eyes glossing over. "How can you say that?"

"How? How?!" I huff. "Well, let's see, you never came to any of my games, recitals, ceremonies. We barely talk, you never call me, and when we do hang out, we go fucking fishing, and can't talk because it scares the fish away!" I stop in front of his desk. "Do you dislike me that much? Do I mean nothing to you?"

"Cassandra, stop that right now!" he commands, his voice shaky. "You think I don't love you? Everything I have done in my life has been for you! I worked sixty-hour weeks so I could provide for you and your mother, so we could put you in dance classes, soccer, gymnastics, whatever it was that you wanted to do that week. So, I could buy you the dolls and clothes and toys you wanted."

"I didn't need stuff, dad!" I yell. "I needed you! And you were never there! Ever! Do you know how shitty it feels to look out into the stands and never see your dad? Huh? You can't know me; you've never spent time with me."

My father's face turns red, his eyes watering. "I know every single thing about you, Cassie! I might not have been at the games or recitals, but I've seen them! You think it was your mother's idea to video record everything? No, it was mine."

He stands up and walks over to the bookshelf, flipping open a compartment, revealing rows upon rows of VHS tapes. "This is everything you have ever done since you were a baby." He points to a tape. "Your first step. You think I wanted to miss that? No, Cassie, I didn't, but I had no choice. I had to work! I had to! But I watched this tape for hours! Hours! Trying to convince myself that I was there, that I saw it happen."

He points to another tape. "This was your ballet graduation. God, you were clumsy, but you were so focused and determined, I was so proud of you that day. I know you, Cassie, maybe through tapes, but I know you." He faces me, his hands shaking. "And I love you, so much. You are the light of my life."

I clench my teeth together, tears streaming down my face. "If you love me, why don't you want to see me? Why did you cancel our fishing trip last month to hang out with your friends?"

My father wipes his eyes. "I wasn't hanging out with Dave," he says quietly. "He was in town for cancer treatment."

I sniffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "Why didn't you tell me that? You just said a college buddy was in town."

"Because Cassandra! I know you! You'd worry! You'd look at Dave and realize that he's my age and that if he has stage three cancer, your mother and I can get it too." Dad takes a couple of steps towards me. "I didn't want to worry you, I just thought—"

"You were protecting me? Dad, I'm not a little girl anymore. You can tell me these things. I'd understand. Instead, you just bail on me and I'm left thinking that you don't care. Dad..." I look up and scan his pained eyes. "I love you and I…I want us to try harder. You and mom are leaving so soon. If we barely talk when you're thirty minutes away from me, how are we going to stay in touch when you're in a different country?"

My father nods his head and then does something I don't remember him ever doing; he hugs me. "I'm sorry, Cassie. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, please don't give up on me. I will…I'll be better, I'll try harder."

I wrap my arms around my father and sink into his embrace. We stay like that for several minutes, just holding each other, making up for twenty-years-worth of hugs and love and understanding.

Adrian was right. I do feel better. I feel lighter, warmer, more secure. I know that we have a long way to go to fix our relationship, but I think we just took the first step. We talked.

Once my father releases me from his bear hug, I realize that my phone has been buzzing. Shit! Adrian. "I have to go now, dad. Adrian's picking me up," I say as he follows me into the foyer.

"I'll call you this weekend, Cassie," he says warmly. "I promise."

"I'm actually going away on a work trip this weekend but call me on Sunday, okay?" I know I should probably tell him about the new job and fess up about Adrian, but I don't want to ruin this moment. I'll tell them soon. I will.

My parents wave at me as I jog down their driveway and hop into Adrian's car. "Sorry I'm late," I say, putting on my seatbelt.

Adrian tilts his head, starting the engine. "Have you been crying?" he asks gently.

"Yup!" I take a deep, joyful breath. "I did it. I talked to my dad."

Adrian frowns. "Did it not go well?"

I turn my head towards him and smile. "I yelled at him," I state proudly. "He cried, I cried, we hugged, Adrian, we hugged! My dad doesn't hug...or cry. It was—" I relax into my seat. "Cathartic."

"That's wonderful to hear, Cassie," Adrian says, his soft dark eyes scanning my face. "And you feel better?"

I nod. "Yeah, I really do." Adrian pulls out of the parking spot and begins driving. "It's so weird," I continue, musing out loud. "I was definitely yelling, and my mom didn't barge in, she didn't interrupt us or anything. I was sure she'd step in at some point."

"Maybe she thought you guys needed to have that conversation," he offers.

"Yeah, maybe," I agree. "My mom's always defended my dad. Always. I mean I suppose after forty years of marriage that's a good thing."

"Forty years?" Adrian asks, surprised. "That's a long time to be married."

"Right? It's crazy. I guess they're a couple of the lucky ones," I say, pulling out a compact mirror and tidying up the mascara disaster under my eyes.

"What do you mean, lucky ones?"

"Well, fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce," I explain to him. "Those aren't the greatest odds."

"Right..." Adrian turns onto the highway. "I guess their marriage is something to aspire to."

I place the compact back into my purse, letting out a laugh. "Oh, I don't aspire to be like them," I say. "I don't want to get married."

Adrian whips his head towards me, his forehead creased. "What? You don't?"

"No, I don't." Is that so shocking to hear? "I think marriage is an antiquated ritual, to be honest. It's not that I don't believe in monogamy or anything, I do. I just don't think a piece of paper that you submit to the government has any impact on a relationship. I don't think it makes it stronger or more real."

Adrian stiffens beside me. "So, you'd be okay with never getting married?" he asks quietly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, is that weird? I know most women want to get married but, I don't know, it was never something I wanted." And helping Monique plan her wedding has reaffirmed that.

Adrian stares out into the road, his fingers coiled around the steering wheel. "I see," he whispers.

The rest of the drive we listen to the radio and talk about the upcoming retreat. Even though Adrian responds to my plethora of questions, his mind seems elsewhere. By the time we pull up to my condo it's past 9 pm. I shouldn't have waited until the last minute to pack.

"Well, thanks for the ride, Adrian," I say, opening the car door. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," he says, not looking in my direction. God, what's gotten into him?

I slide out of the car and head inside. The slamming of a car door forces me to turn my head.

"Cassie, wait!" Adrian exclaims, jogging towards me.

"What is it—"

Before I can finish my sentence, Adrian's hands cup the sides of my face and his lips crash into mine, soft, urgent, warm. His fingers rake through my hair, tugging me closer to him, deepening his kiss. I place my hands on his chest and lightly shove him away, confusion and bliss battling for space in my mind.

"What are you doing?" I breathe, touching my lips.

"I can't do this, Cassie," he whispers, taking a step closer to me, his desperate and tired eyes scanning my face. "I can't just be your friend. I…I want more. I will give you more."

I narrow my eyes. "What? But you said—"

"I know what I said, and I'm sorry. I know you must be confused right now but I'm not anymore." My jaw clenches. "Please, Cassie, don't look at me like that."

I stagger backward. "You can't do this! You can't just tap in and out whenever you feel like it, Adrian. Just a week ago you told me you couldn't give me more and now you're saying you can? What the fuck? Is this a game to you? Is this fun for you?"

"I'm not playing any games, Cassie," Adrian pleads. "This is real. How I feel about you is real, and I can't deny it any longer."

I shake my head. "No... I don't believe you. People don't change in a week, Adrian!" I rummage for my keys in my purse. "I need to go pack; I can't do this right now."

"Cassie, please!" he begs, grabbing my hand. "Let's just talk."

"Goodbye, Adrian," I say sternly.

I rush inside, my mind spinning. What is wrong with him? How can he just flip flop like that? And why am I so hesitant to believe him? Isn't this what I wanted? Isn't he who I wanted?

I want Adrian...right?