Episode.2
1174 Words
Dressed in the same outfit as the previous evening, Marissa stood at the kitchen sink early in the morning, washing out her coffee cup. Her mind was always racing with the image of Charlie Daniels, the boy she used to share mangoes that were sun-kissed together, looking smart and oblivious in a crisp blue suit. She'd returned home late and hardly slept.
In part, he was the same.
The same storm-hued eyes.
She recognized the same jawline that she recalled in her younger days, only now it was more chiseled and protective.
But he had just pushed past her the day before like she was just an intern.
It wasn't nearly as much fun as she'd anticipated.
"Girl, are you okay?"
As Liyah entered the kitchen, sliding into an oversized sweater and slippers, her voice broke the silence.
Sleep had caused one side of her afro to smooth out, giving her an uneven appearance.
Marissa smiled weakly.
"Yes.
Yesterday was just a really long day.”
Liyah rested her elbows on the counter and yawned. But what was it like? The position?"
Marissa hesitated.
How was she to explain bringing back a man who had dominated her entire childhood?
That he seemed to be made of glass to her?
Instead, she just said, "It was intense."
The HR manager is too at ease in her own voice, the building is beautiful, and the work appears to be in place.
Liyah deadpanned, "So, corporate," and took the jar of peanut butter.
----
Marissa laughed, but only for a moment. She dried her hands on a towel, then took her bags. "I'd better go. Day two.
-----
Liyah raised her spoon in respect and urged, "Go get 'em, Dee." "Tell them how lucky they are to have you."
Feeling safer than hopeful, Marissa stepped out into the morning light.
It was okay that Charlie Daniels had forgotten her.
She was not there to replay history.
She went to create her future.
Her being there was to shape her destiny.
***
The familiar whir of printers, clicking keyboards, and the occasional footfalls on the vinyl-tiled floor thrummed through VEC Enterprise's Midtown high-rise office floor. Marissa went past the team pods and meeting areas with glass dividers as she walked into the open office area. She was parked at a desk against the corner, next to a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the parking garage below.
Denise, her new boss, was a frazzled woman who nodded politely without making eye contact.
"You will meet Brian in acquisitions today. He will walk you through current accounts. He's quick, so be careful."
"Yes, ma'am," Marissa replied.
Brian proved to be a social analyst in his late thirties who chewed gum too loudly and had baggy eyes. But he was compliant, taking her through customer documents and budget sheets while adding humor to cheer the mood.
He rummaged through a binder and joked, "We're sharks with calculators here."
Feelings come after dollars.
Except on Friday, when it's vice versa.
Marissa smiled, making notes.
"I appreciate you taking the time."
"You're welcome," said Brian. "Honestly, new recruits are usually thrown in at the deep end, but you do have to be liked by somebody in a higher position. Not every junior assistant is involved in a Daniels-led project, after all.
Her pen hovered in mid-sentence. "Sorry, what?"
"Charlie Daniels. Viktor's stepson. He seems to hunger for fresh ideas for the renovation project at the charity wing. Your name was on it. You're supporting the task force. You're lucky.
Marissa blinked. Good luck. Yes.".
She was given a folder by Brian. "Get this ready. Daniels and I are meeting this afternoon. Another one of those orientations. Very subtle. Most likely just a formality.
Her heart was pounding, but her hands were steady as she held the folder. So quickly?
---
Skimming through his notes, Charlie Daniels stood by the elevator. He could recite project numbers in his sleep, so he did not require them necessarily. But he could keep his hands occupied and hold down the fear from bubbling up into his chest.
These were standard meetings.
A formality.
Smile, nod, and shake hands
To make someone feel special.
Viktor had instructed him, though, to begin "looking for grounded voices in the company—people who know how to work, not just network."
In theory, Charlie concurred. He just didn't like faking to be excited about a department in which few managers hardly looked in.
As he strode down the brief hallway to the common meeting area, he practiced mentally his words of effortless charm.
Having arrived at the common meeting area, he strode down the brief hallway and entered with Brian rising as he said, "Mr. Daniels.".
With a tightening grip, he cried, "Please, Charlie is all right."
Charlie turned to face her, and their eyes locked.
He felt something he couldn't describe. Known? Remembered? Something lurked behind her serene eyes. Something warded. There's something waiting.
He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
-----------
She smiled easily. "Marissa Villaon." She did not pull away, did not wince.
Having watched her for a little longer than was absolutely necessary, he let go of her hand. "Let's get started.
The meeting lasted forty minutes. Charlie did most of the talking in the discussion, going over the objectives of the reconstruction effort and what the department was looking for. Brian would insert some comments now and then, but otherwise, Marissa listened, took notes, and asked smart questions.
Charlie noted that.
He observed her position too—back straight, loose, and unreadable.
Not hungry, not subservient.
Just. Earthed.
Charlie and Marissa were alone in the conference room following the meeting when Brian excused himself to resolve a scheduling issue.
Charlie looked at her for a moment.
"This sort of work is second nature to you, isn't it?"
She gave a small smile. "I've done my part."
"Your inquiries were insightful."
"Thank you."
They paused for a moment.
Unexpectedly, he asked, "Have we met before?"
Despite not showing it, Marissa's heart leaped.
She c****d her head. "Not that I remember."
Charlie scrubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. "Sorry. You just look familiar. There must be something to the energy.
Not a chance.
Compiling her notes, she said, "Maybe. Or maybe I just have one of those faces."
Despite his nod, he wasn't sure. Even when she exited the room, he could still recall something about her.
He stood alone with an all-encompassing scratch of memory when she walked away from him with a deliberate step.
---
Marissa exhaled a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding at her desk. Her palms were damp.
She got the impression that he almost knew me.
It hardly counted, though.
A hawk soared overhead along the surrounding skyline as she gazed out of the window.
---
She would just continue to do her job.
Keep professional.
Maintain distance.
It would be his own, if he remembered.
And perhaps he did not deserve the memory anyway if he never did.
- Writer
