MORE OF SOMETHING MORE,
a story about a salesman trying to establish himself,
a CEO scheming to buy out his father's influence
and the woman important to each
29
Helen Roy, atop the
covers in a thick white robe that bears the hotel crest, crooks her head on a
pillow as she works the remote control in vain: nothing is as vivid as what is
playing in her mind where she sails head over heels in a nonsensical world and
miraculously lands on her feet, or so six-figures in her checking would
indicate.
“’CO Associates’ doesn’t even sound real,
but they gave the money for the settlement, the non-disclosure and my job, and
that I never associate with anybody from Slade, never speak about what happened
there or about the wedding. They needn’t have bothered about that last: tears and nausea then suffocation, nothing I want to talk about. But the
two years since moving from Wisconsin, and Stephen and Atom, erase them all? If
I could only learn to forget. The settlement supporting my
new life is a reminder not to talk. Lots of girls in L.A. run around like they own it, but
no one knows how. I’ll be just another, flashing mysterious smiles in the face
of too many questions.
“I’ll know without being able to say
---not to Kelly even, who knows I was working there when we drifted apart. If I
said I’m not there anymore, and found another job that would be half a lie, and
he knows enough to be suspicious. Money doesn’t fall from the sky, like we
might have believed back in Madison. We weren’t naïve, just thought the future
would be better on the coast and now I have the settlement, weren’t we right?
But Melissa wouldn’t know. I’ll say it’s severance pay and fly us to Hawaii and
feed her belief in fleecy greenbacks. Little sister trusts what I say.”
The thought inspires her to sit up
against the headrest. She looks toward the open window where a light breeze
carries the sounds of outdoor activity.
“I want a walk, a bite to eat, and to
call Melissa, yet struggle to go because the shame I bear has settled and
weighs me down. Better to carry a sign
with my crime written boldly, and suffer hoots and hollers from blowhards and
quiet contemptuous stares, and so share half the burden. Alone, I am accuser
and accused both.
“But of what crime? The settlement
specifies nothing in particular of the past, and cautions against the future so
that I can’t say goodbye to Stephen or to Atom. That cuts deep. ‘Anything pertaining to or about the
individual named Atom Green…’ If he finds me and were outside the door, would I
let him in when gaps in conversation would be obligatory? But if he signed too,
he wouldn’t come looking; something inside me hopes he didn’t.
“I’ll make myself small like a little
ball, and suck my thumb and cry onto these sheets instead of going into the
light where it might show, where even Melissa might see and know.”
She falls asleep and wakes after dusk has
fallen. Rising from bed, she changes into denim jeans and jacket, brushes her
hair then leaves to step into the evening air that’s cool, refreshing and
anonymous.
The characters and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event
