Page 27 of Forever Lies
“Hey, Roger. What’s up?” I asked without the customary pep I might normally infuse in my voice.
His gaze lingered on my chest, making me realize hecould see down my already revealing blouse from his vantage point above me. Embarrassment flooded me, my cheeks burning in frustration and outrage. I cleared my throat and leaned back in my chair, lifting my shirt to cover myself as I moved.
“I wanted to ask about the ‘coming soon’ signage on the DMV building,” he said distractedly.
“It’s scheduled to go up on the eighteenth.”
He nodded, his eyes dropping back down to my chest. “You always put on a show for me, don’t you? You like to tease—I know the type. One of these days, I’m going to fuck those tits, and you’re going to love it.” His thin lips lifted in a lecherous smile before he walked out of the room.
I couldn’t move a muscle. I was in shock.
You’d think it wouldn’t surprise me after dealing with the man for a year, but he’d never been so directly lewd. Roger’s harassment was getting worse. Almost just as upsetting, I realized I’d completely forgotten to go down to HR and file a report.
How could I have forgotten?
I felt like I had been drenched in a bucket of ice water as a full-body shiver wracked me head-to-toe. He made me feel so fucking dirty and ashamed, even though I knew I’d done nothing wrong. Roger terrified me, and it made me so angry, I couldn’t see straight. I could picture myself beating him relentlessly with a baseball bat, and I had never so much as harmed a fly—that was how deeply he upset me.
I wanted him out of my life so I could live in peace.
Taking a couple deep breaths, I stood on shaky legs, bracing myself against the desk until I felt steady enough to walk. With my chin held high, I walked down to the ninthfloor to Human Resources. The door to their suite was locked, a sign taped to the window, “Out all day for training.”
God damn it! Of all the fucking days.
Tears welled in my eyes, and the tightening grip of a sob clawed at my chest. I wanted this torture over. I didn’t want to wait another day to get his ass kicked out of this building, but I had no choice. Of course, filing a complaint would only be the start of what could be a lengthy process. There was no telling how long I’d have to deal with an angry, vindictive boss who enjoyed sexually harassing me.
I escaped back into the stairwell and leaned against the wall. The fluorescent lights gave off a dim illumination, and it was eerily silent within the concrete walls, but it was precisely what I needed—the protective enclosure of my own private cave. I didn’t think I could manage going back into my glass office to be stared at and scrutinized like jewelry in a display case.
It was all too much.
All morning I had put on a brave face and fooled myself into believing everything would be alright, and I knew deep down, eventually, it would, but at that moment, it felt like everything was a disaster. The constant pressure of my family, the stress of sorting out my relationship with Luca, and the strain of dealing with Roger—it was too much. Each added pressure had wound me tighter and tighter, and Roger’s comment had been the final straw that had sprung my trigger.
I needed to get away.
I couldn’t go back up to my office, not even for my purse. Instead, I took deep breaths as I slowly descended nine flights of stairs, exiting onto the ground floor and walking numbly through the lobby. One of the security guards I oftenconversed with asked if I was alright and made an attempt to have me sit down, but I assured him I was fine and slipped from the building.
I walked with no destination in mind. Far from my normal purposeful stride, I strolled aimlessly, blind to the people and activities around me. At one point, I noted Stern College, which was only a couple blocks from the Triton building. Other than that, my mind was a blank, as if my brain had overloaded and shut down.
I tried so hard all the time to be who my parents wanted me to be. There was no such thing as perfect, but by God, I had tried, and I felt like I’d come up unforgivably short. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be. Maybe if I had a stronger sense of self, I’d have known how to handle Luca. He swept me away like a tiny leaf pulled out on the ocean current until I was surrounded by him, unable to see my way to shore. I thought I could manage him like I thought I was handling Roger, but I’d been a fool on both counts.
Luca couldn’t be managed, any more than a tornado or an earthquake.
And as for Roger—I’d deluded myself that dressing conservatively and ignoring him was an effective strategy to address his behavior. Realizing how wrong I’d been made me feel weak and pathetic. The only thing I’d accomplished was allowing him to continue to prey on me. I should have reported him from the very first incident, but instead, I’d told myself dealing with him was necessary, not seeing the lie for what it was—cowardice.
I had been scared for others to know the things my boss had said and done, and the longer it lasted, the more impossible it felt to tell anyone. Each inappropriate comment and suggestive stare was a shovel full of dirtthrown on top of where I lay, down in a hole of my own making. The guilt and shame were unbearable.
In a thriving city of millions of people, I suddenly felt no larger than an ant.
Insignificant.
Worthless.
A tear dripped down my cheek, and my vision blurred just as my toe caught on an uneven sidewalk seam, and I lurched forward. Before I could stumble to the ground, a strong set of hands caught me. My head sprung up, and I gasped in surprise, sucking in a lungful of rancidly sweet air rank with cheap cologne. A large man with tattoos crawling up his neck and a shaved head leered down at me.
There was a cold madness to the gleam in his eyes, sending a bolt of electric adrenaline down my spine, all the way to my fingers and toes. The man was enormous and didn’t look like he’d known a sane day in his life.
“Gotta watch where you’re goin’ lady,” he said as his eyes traveled down my body, his hands still firmly clasped around my arms.
My eyes darted around in search of aid, but I quickly realized I had wandered too close to the river and was standing beneath the FDR overpass. There wasn’t another soul around to help me, just the steady whooshing of cars above and the gentle coo of pigeons nesting under the bridge.
