Sentient

Sentient: Chapter Seven

I can’t be mistaken. It was pain I saw in his eyes. It was pain that darkened those blue ones as soon as he saw the screen. And it’s pain that’s eating him right now as we sit in the back of his car, with nothing but silence surrounding us as Darius, his driver, drives us to the office. 

Mr. Cavanaugh’s stuck looking outside, watching the rain as it pelts on the car window. I knew it was going to rain. 

Who was calling him? 

We arrive at the basement parking lot of the LC&C building. Mr. Cavanaugh opens for himself while Darius runs to my side of the door. With Darius staying behind, I trail after my boss as he walks swiftly to the elevator leading directly to our floor, the 48th. 

I hold the document bag tightly in my left arm, my fingers almost turning white in the tightness of my grasp. I need to say something. There’s this demanding voice in the pit of my stomach telling me that I need to take his mind off of that mystery caller, that I need to make him feel better and that it’s my job to. 

Then suddenly, I fart. 

Not the quick, cute sound-off that comes out when you have a little too much tea and biscuits. 

It was a long, progressive beast that finally acquired the freedom it so longed for and deserved with an ear splitting roar. 

And the worst part is I didn’t even do it on purpose! 

It’s definitely not the “something I need to do” that I was talking about! 

There’s a deafening silence that comes after my little performance—the kind that signifies that everything on earth stood still before the elevator announces our arrival with a loud DING, piercing through the hollow box. 

Mr. Cavanaugh walks out of the elevator without looking back and with no response or reaction, leaving me behind.

I let the elevator doors close back again and I crash myself onto the floor, my knees wobbling like crazy. 

What just happened? What in the holy name of Jesus happened? This can’t be real! This is not possible! I just farted in front of my boss—or behind him. My new, handsome, multi-billionaire boss! 

You’re the most competent one in the team… Yeah, right! 

Try most repellent one in the team! 

Okay, okay, Charlie, think. How can you get away from this?

Maybe I should just go ahead and resign right now? 

No, no that’s not like you. 

First and foremost, get up from the goddamn elevator floor!

I take hold of the walls and pull myself up, straightening my pencil skirt afterwards. Now what?

Now, you call your best friend.

I quickly fish my phone from my bag and dial Christie’s number but it’s not getting through. I look up at the floor indicator and realize I am at the basement parking again. So I press the RT button and wait for the elevator to deliver. 

The beautiful blue sky welcomes me as soon as the door opens and I immediately take a deep breath in—something I hadn’t even realized I needed. 

It’s been so long since I last came up here on the roof. Last time I was here was Thanksgiving last year, when Noah, my last boyfriend, broke things off with me for not being able to spend the holiday with him. What could I do? That was a day before our product launch and I was making unlimited errands for Mr. Sandmoore. It’s not like I wanted to be there. It’s not like I wanted to be dumped via phone call in the middle of a meeting with all of the department heads and be called a workaholic, and I certainly didn’t deserve to be told that I was going to end up alone forever. 

I call Christie again and she immediately picks up.  

“I farted in front of Mr. Cavanaugh.” I blurt out. 

There’s a five second pause.

“How the hell did you go from having a night out with him to farting in front of him? Jesus Christ, Charlie, I swear to God you push away guys like no other woman ever does and this is without you even trying!”

“I know!” I cry and then sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What do I do? I’m on the roof and I can’t even go down there and face him. I just… crashed on the elevator floor like a total i***t and stayed there. Maybe he thinks I ran away already?”

“Relax, Charlie. Calm down.” Christie says. “Just get down here and act normal. He probably won’t even mention it.”

She’s right. Mr. Cavanaugh seems like a very professional man. I doubt he’ll mention or even comment on it. 

“You’re right,” I say to Christie, “Maybe he didn’t even hear it.”

“Oh honey! Worst case scenario, just laugh it off.” She suggests, “Or jump through his window.”

“You’re not helping Christie!”

She laughs and says, “It’s gonna be fine. You’re a confident, kick-ass woman. Just suck it up! Everybody farts. People fart. Not in front of their bosses, but at least there’s a first person for everything.”

I grunt. “Not helping!”

She chuckles. “Just get down here!”

The phone call ends and I brace myself. Christie’s right, everybody farts—then again, she always is. 

You’re a confident, kick-ass woman Charlie, you can do this. 

I take the elevator down and go straight to my desk. I shuffle a couple of things around my computer before taking a peek at Mr. Cavanaugh’s office. The blinds in his glass wall were open and I saw him intently fixated on his computer. Then he looks at me.

My panties go in a twist. 

He gestures his index finger, ordering me to come into his office. 

Oh Dear God. Here it comes. Just act normal. 

Hey, Mr. Cavanaugh. Did you hear anything earlier? Yeah, that’s my ringtone. I have that kind of sense of humor, you know? I put fart noises as my ringtone. You should hear my doorbell at home! They’re burps.  

I straighten my clothes before going in. As soon as I get in, he takes the remote of the blinds and closes them, giving us privacy from the outside. 

Gulp.

He hands me a black folder and smiles, “Your notes on this are exceptional, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You can take that to Legal and have it re-done, if you don’t have anything more to add.” 

I shake my head and smile forcefully.

“What’s that?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks, c*****g his head to the side a little. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, sorry.” He says, smiling mischievously. “I thought I heard something.” 

My face falls. The hairs on the nape of my neck stand. And then my gut twists. 

He definitely heard it. And now he’s making fun of me. How do I recover from this?

I purse my lips and say, “Yes, it’s my dignity crashing to the floor.” 

Then he laughs loudly, leaning back against his chair. The pain in his eyes before, now gone.