Forever Lies

2

The chairs had been pulled around to clump on my side of the table with the various documents and exhibits spread out for viewing from the other side. His setup left little option except to come around to his side of the table, but I kept as much distance between us as was reasonably possible. “It looks like everything is here,” I offered as I perused the materials. “What about the schedule of work?” he asked as he leaned forward to retrieve the document. “I noticed we listed a completion timeframe of six months, but I thought we had discussed moving that out to nine.” His right hand snaked out to curl around my waist and pull me next to him as his other hand held out the document as if showing me its contents was the purpose behind his flagrant violation of my personal space. Stunned by his action, I took the papers and stared at them dumbly. I didn’t see the words on the page—I was entirely focused inside my head where my thoughts raced at a frenzied pace in an attempt to grasp my situation. My boss’s hand lingered at my lower back before slowly dropping down to caress over the curve of my ass cheek. I ceased breathing, and my ears began to ring. His repulsive touch in such a private area made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t seem to move a muscle. I was frozen—horror battling with mortification. The glass walls gave me a perfect view of the bustling office where a dozen employees scurried about their business. Never in a thousand years had I imagined he would make a move on me in plain sight of our coworkers, but he’d done a masterful job keeping his actions unseen. To all the world, we looked as though we were simply examining a document— his wandering hand only visible to the New York skyline out our tenth-floor windows. “Um … we decided … to subcontract the welding work,” I sputtered out. “Our guys will be busy on the Merchant project. Outsourcing will enable us to keep the six-month timeline the client requested.” As I said the words, I frantically debated what to do. If I allowed him to continue touching me, it would no doubt encourage the asshole to take more liberties. If I confronted him or in any way made a scene, the entire office would know in seconds. Before I had a chance to decide, the intercom in his office crackled to life. “Mr. Coleman, your flight leaves in two hours.” The instant his assistant, Beverly, began to speak, I pulled out of his grasp and fled the office. Bypassing my own office, I hurried to the restrooms and locked myself in a stall. Leaning against the door, head back and eyes closed, I tried to regulate my erratic heartrate. Did that really just happen? Could I have imagined the whole thing? Surely, my boss hadn’t assaulted me in front of the entire office. As much as I wished it had been a nightmare, it wasn’t. Each agonizing second had played out in living color, and I had stood immobile like a squirrel starring down an approaching car. What was wrong with me? Why hadn’t I pulled away instantly? Why hadn’t I turned in his balding ass months ago to HR? I’d had my reasons, but they seemed less and less valid with each new day. My conflict and self-doubt brought on a barrage of guilt and blame that bowed my shoulders with their oppressive weight. I needed to get out of the building. I exited the stall and went through the motions of washing my hands before walking to my office with my eyes lowered to the geometric patterns of the grey commercial carpeting. Grabbing my phone, I texted my cousin to move up our lunch date, then snagged my purse and scurried out of my office. Normally, I would inform a coworker if I was leaving early, but I couldn’t do it. I felt exposed—like anyone who looked at me would know what I had allowed to happen. I couldn’t force myself to take that chance— to let them see the shame in my eyes. Instead, I kept my head down and hurried out the closest exit. I couldn’t allow my boss’s behavior to continue. The realization was daunting. I had a number of options on how to handle the situation but wasn’t sure which would be best. Fortunately, he would be gone for the rest of the week, so I didn’t have to face the issue immediately. I wasn’t normally the type to procrastinate, but in this case, I would put off dealing with him as long as I could. I shoved the incident into a dark corner of my mind— somewhere next to the misery of my first period and getting lost as a child in the subway. Aside from my boss, I loved my job. Marketing in and of itself was enjoyable, but marketing on behalf of my father’s company gave the job added meaning. Call me a goody-two-shoes, but I’d always been the parentpleasing child who desperately wanted to make Mom and Dad proud. More specifically, it was my dad I strived most to impress. He was a tough nut to crack. If I came home with a ninety-nine on my report card as a child, he would tell me ‘good job’ but always ask why it wasn’t a one-hundred. Vicenzo Genovese expected nothing less than the best, which is why I started at the bottom of the totem pole and had been working my way up. He wasn’t the type to plant his daughter in a vice president’s position straight out of school. He made it clear from day one when I expressed an interest in working for Triton Construction that I would have to earn my job. You can’t know how to lead if you never learned how to follow. Those were some of his favorite words. Words I had taken to heart. As I stepped into the elevator and turned back to face the lobby, my chest swelled with pride for the organization I would someday help run. Triton was tangible for me—not only could I point to the buildings we created all over the city, but we provided the income that supported our employees and donated millions of our profits to charitable causes. I viewed the company as a living thing and wanted nothing more than to foster its growth. Whatever trials I had to surmount to call Triton my own were worth the effort. The thought brought a small smile to my face as I exited the elevator onto the second floor. The building was designed with a grand lobby on the first floor, flanked by two elegantly curved escalators on either side. The main elevators traveled to the first floor, but I preferred to exit on the second floor and ride the escalators down to the lobby so I could peruse the bustling activity on my way down. My eyes danced from one person to the next as I scanned the occupants of the lofty room. A woman sporting sneakers with her high-powered suit stepped onto the opposite escalator going up. I wondered if she was health conscientious or merely late when she powered up the escalator, swiftly climbing each step in quick succession.