The Underground Page 4

  “In this country,” he clarified, as he looked her directly in the eye, laying the thoughts between them that no man dared to bring up in front of her.

  “Go on,” she said, putting her pencil down and looking Nathanial square in the eyes, but Nathaniel was hesitant to say anything. A flood of words was barely being levied at the back of his throat.

  “What I really think is…”

  Her phone rang, and Nathaniel’s heart leapt at the sound. She answered, listening intently, and Nathaniel was glad for the interruption.

  “I’ve gotta get out of here,” he whispered. She held up her finger and mouthed he should wait just a minute, but he stood up to leave.

  Shayla covered the mouthpiece of her phone. “I’ll be off in just a minute,” she said.

  “I have to be at my post in 3 minutes,” he whispered.

  “I’ll call you right back,” Shayla said, before immediately closing her phone.

  “Just finish what you were saying,” she said. He felt her focus nearly force him to sit back down.

  “Nothing important,” he said, shaking his head feeling incredibly nervous. As he picked up his coffee and muffin bag, she lightly put her hand on his arm, startling him. He jumped back, nearly knocking over the chair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, setting the chair back in its spot as he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes as the awkwardness returned. Once again, she was in charge. Without another word, he hurried out of her office door hoping he would make it in time. After all, there was no way anyone would believe he was late because he was sitting having coffee with the Queen’s daughter.

  ——–

  “Nathaniel!”

  He sprinted into the kitchen, the moment he heard Janice’s familiar shriek.

  “You said you cleaned up after dinner, but the kitchen just seems kind of…”

  “What else would you like me to do?” he asked, his adrenaline making him cut her off mid-sentence. He could see that she was drunk.

  She turned her head and looked out the window, leaving him hanging for a moment before she turned back. “Clean the kitchen. Thoroughly. Top to bottom,” she said, clutching her glass like a security blanket. She took a sip, but ice was all that remained.

  “Right now?” he asked, having a really hard time masking his disappointment. The day started early with work, and then he bought groceries, and cooked dinner. He just finished doing the dinner dishes. He wanted to sit down and read for a while before going to sleep. He had purchased one of the books he had seen on Shayla’s shelf, and he had been trying to sneak in time here and there to read, but Janice kept finding tasks that “needed” doing, immediately.

  “You have something else more important to do?” she asked, staring at the electronic tablet in his hand, which she seemed to hate as much as anything that diverted his attention from her. He had given up so much. He didn’t want to give up reading, too. He hoped to get a chance to discuss the book with Shayla, but there had been no light on under her door the past few mornings, and he figured that might be for the best. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep quiet about what was really on his mind.

  “No, certainly not,” he said to Janice, reassuringly, nodding, fearful of speaking further.

  She shook her glass gently in his direction. The ice cubes tinkled together like a bell summoning him. He wordlessly went to her, intent on refilling the glass, but she tightened her grip just for a moment when he tried to take it. Why did she have to do this? He knew better than to try and figure it out. He had learned it was better, and easier, to simply try and do what she wanted. Obey, rather than understand her moods.

  “With a little more lemon this time,” she said, hovering closely as he poured the chilled vodka into her glass, adding a little ice, and a splash of cranberry juice. He took a fresh lemon and sliced it clean in half before squeezing it with all his might into the glass. Janice’s eyes penetrated him, as he scurried around the kitchen.

  He handed her the drink and waited. His insides churned as he tried to prepare for the next criticism. She’ll probably say there is too much lemon.

  “Good job,” she said to him finally, as though he was a dog, surprising him with a smile as she walked out of the kitchen.

  “If you need another drink, or anything else, just let me know,” he said as she wobbled away.

  When he heard the Webavision turn on in the other room, he breathed a momentary sigh of relief. He picked up his electronic tablet and turned it off before bringing it into the bedroom and setting it on his nightstand, so it wouldn’t even tease him while he cleaned.

  “Don’t forget to clean out the refrigerator, too!” Janice yelled from the other room.

  “Of course!” he replied, and decided to begin there. He set the entire contents of the fridge on the counter before going underneath the sink to retrieve the Windex. He peered behind the Windex. Reminder of Truth lured him like a beacon. He wanted to know about the real history that he had never known, and he wanted to talk with Shayla about it. He knew that speaking his mind to her, of all people, was insane.

  But he had to admit that the last time he was in her office, she seemed almost disappointed when he had to rush out of her office. Was that his imagination?

  He reminded himself that she was his boss. He was her employee and nothing more. Sure, he brought her breakfast, but he made breakfast for Janice, too. Once a servant, always a servant.

  Nathaniel picked up the Windex and began to clean the refrigerator, refocusing on the only true reality.

  “Looks good,” Janice slurred, checking in a while later. He didn’t hear her enter the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” he said, feeling worn down. Sometimes he wished Chester had never given him that book. When he didn’t know about men living free lives, his mind didn’t think about such possibilities. What if he had been born in another time?

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he said, trying to pull himself together.

  “Are you sure?” she said, approaching him, touching his face in a way that made him cringe. She smiled as she guided his face toward hers. “You wanna go in the bedroom?” she whispered, her forehead touching his.

  “Don’t you want me to finish cleaning here?”

  “Finish it later,” she said, running her fingers through his hair as she leaned her cigarette flavored mouth onto his lips.

  She pulled him into the bedroom, and he didn’t think he could perform, but knew he had to.

  “Leave the lights on,” she said.

  “It’s sexier with them off,” he told her, as he took her to the bed in the dark, for once going against her wishes. Closing his eyes, he thought of Shayla, allowing the fantasy of her beckoning him to her bed until he could feel himself erect. He held onto those visions of Shayla so he could comply with Janice’s requests.

  He bore himself into her as she cried out with pleasure. Even in that moment, he longed to feel something for Janice other than hatred, but knew he never would. He could only imagine Shayla opening herself up to him, responding to his fingers exploring her body. He wanted to give her the kind of irresistible pleasure that she had never experienced.

  When he felt the pulsation of his climax, he saw Shayla in his mind, but reality quickly set in. A few minutes later Janice’s snoring reminded Nathaniel who was by his side and who would be there forevermore.

  Chapter 8

  “What the hell happened to you? You look terrible!” Chester said, as they sat at the corner table in his bakery.

  “I haven’t been sleeping well,” Nathaniel said, wanting badly to confide. He knew that Chester would listen, but complaining to a Spot, about anything, seemed wrong to Nathaniel. Plus, this was Janice’s uncle. He may have given Nathaniel Reminder of Truth, but that didn’t mean it was open season to bash her. Maybe he would talk to Brigg later, maybe not. Discussing his frustrations seemed futile.

  Chester took a sip of coffee and eyed him. “You gotta take care of yourself,” h
e said, shaking his head.

  “I’ll be fine. I just need a good night’s sleep, that’s all,” he said as he got up, wishing that was true. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said.

  “My pleasure, as always. You’re gonna be alright,” Chester said, giving Nathaniel a hearty pat on the back before Nathaniel left.

  As he walked to work, he fantasized that Shayla showed up early and was waiting for him, but he doubted this would happen. Still, he turned the corner toward her office with nervous anticipation.

  As he moved down the corridor, his eyes shot to the bottom of her door. No light. He bent down to pretend he was tying his shoe as he looked at the shy crack at the bottom of the door, to be sure. Maybe if he stayed there long enough, he could will the light on, the door would spring open and Shayla would welcome him.

  He knew this was ridiculous. He was just about to set the bag down when he heard someone coming. He pretended to be tying his shoe again.

  “Hey,” she said, nearly out of breath as she approached her office.

  “Hi,” Nathaniel said, feeling his face heat up.

  “Want to come in?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said, feeling his heartbeat boom in his chest. She’s your boss. You’re her employee. She’s just being polite because you serve her breakfast each day. Don’t forget that!

  As she placed her hand on the sensor that unlocked her door, she was quiet and kept her eyes on the door. As soon as they crossed the threshold into her office and the door closed, all formality vanished. The outside world fell away, as if they were tucked away in a cabin in the woods. He loved this comfortable feeling, just as it pained him to know it would never amount to anything.

  Nathaniel sat down without waiting for an invitation. He watched as she quietly set her briefcase down and removed her coat that she carefully hung up. It offered him a moment of looking at her from behind. She caught the focus of his eyes when she turned around and gave him a slow, but knowing smile, clearly entertained. The smile alone made him stiffen, and he shifted the Chester’s Bakery bag to his lap as he crossed his legs.

  “So, how long have you been working here?” she asked, once she sat down.

  “I’ve been here forever, since right after high school. Never worked anywhere else, really,” he said. “This,” he said, gesturing around “is my life and probably will be forever.”

  “Do you like working here?” she asked. Nathaniel kept his eyes focused on the floor, as an uncomfortable feeling began to settle in. How could he answer that?

  “What you tell me is between us,” she told him, as if she could read his quandary about whether to please her or be honest.

  “I like working hard and earning a living and am grateful to have a job,” he said.

  “Oh, C’mon, Nathaniel. You sound like a goddamn commercial for bipartisanship!” she said, laughing. “Tell me the truth. I don’t have anybody here to tell me how things really are,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m just the new girl here, you know,” she said, laughing.

  “I think I’d better go,” he said. He had been wishing to have the opportunity to sit exactly where he was, and now realized it was probably better kept as a daydream. He had to get out of there and motioned to stand.

  “Sit,” she said, looking at her watch. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

  “It’s not that,” he said. She smiled at him with a relaxed, pleasant smile that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. He had seen a zillion photos of her over the years, but they didn’t come anywhere close to capturing her true beauty.

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer you,” he said, simply.

  “We’re just having a conversation over coffee,” she said shrugging. She pulled the other cup of coffee from the bag in between them and offered it to him. He couldn’t help but think about how Janice held her glass out to him the previous evening, tricking him by gripping it tight when he went to take it. Shayla’s fingers momentarily touched his as he took the coffee. How he wished they could linger there, but knew that he needed to banish those thoughts. You are her employee and she is your boss, he reminded himself yet again. That didn’t help him manage the allure of her.

  He took a sip of coffee, hoping this conversation would go somewhere else.

  “Now tell me, how do you like working here?”

  “I like working here as much as any man probably likes working anywhere,” he said, “which is to say, not very much.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him with a curiosity that didn’t make him feel threatened.

  “It’s challenging…,” he continued, feeling like he still wanted to tread lightly.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I can’t say anymore.”

  “Nathaniel,” she said, leaning toward him. “I’m asking you because I want to know. I really do. I want to know why you don’t like it and I want to make it better. Nothing bad is going to happen to you for speaking the truth.”

  He laughed out loud at the irony of where he sat, who was talking to him, and what she said.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “The tension in this room is so big that I’m surprised either of us can breathe,” he said, looking straight at her. “I don’t want to get myself fired,” he said. “Or worse.”

  “I give you my word. Just tell me.”

  He took another sip of his coffee and pondered, wondering if this was a trick, but he trusted her. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he did.

  “Last time I was here, you told me about your favorite book,” he said.

  “The Deahn book?”

  “Yes, the one with the revenge theme,” he said with emphasis. “Let me ask you a question. How do you think all the men feel working here or anywhere for that matter? Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I think you have made things better for men in the short time you’ve been here. Still, the changes you made are small, compared to what we need.”

  “And that is?” she asked.

  “I truly believe that inside every man in this country is a desire for equality,” he said, feeling liberated and afraid all at once. He had never said any of this aloud and certainly not to a woman. He hadn’t talked about this with anyone but Brigg.

  Shayla looked at him with compassionate eyes, the kind that he had never ever seen from a woman.

  ——–

  “This is hush, hush,” the Queen said over the phone, excitement filling her voice. “Male infants will have micro chips injected under their skin while still in the hospital. It’ll track them as they grow up. Women can point smart phones at men to read all about them at the Parties of Availability. The Tasers also benefit from this technology for immediate access to a man’s age, medical records, but also the database of prior arrests, employment history etc….”

  “I think you’re making a huge mistake,” Shayla said. She was haunted by Nathaniel DeLuca’s honesty. He had finally opened up and his words echoed the sentiment of her father’s: men feel the burden of injustices that start with the Parties of Availability, and segue into total servitude, especially once married. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was difficult to hear because she knew her mother, and previous grandmothers before her, were responsible for the way men were treated. She knew it wasn’t going to do any good to stand up to her mother, but she had to at least try.

  “Some day, my dear Shayla, you will understand. I hope,” the Queen said, quietly.

  “Aren’t you going a little overboard? I mean, what if men treated women this way?” Shayla asked in a purposely moderate voice. She knew it would enflame her mother, but she had to speak her mind. She thought of Nathaniel. She had already been on the path to pick up her father’s legacy, but hearing Nathaniel’s opinions made all her plans seem urgent.

  She had even gone home the previous evening after hearing Nathaniel’s candidness and pulled out her copy of Reminder of Truth, the gift from her father on his death bed. She hadn’t read it in quite a while. If her mother ever found out
she had it or where it came from … Shayla couldn’t imagine what she would do.

  “Look at the rate of sexual assaults in America compared with other countries? We are LEADERS because we are forward thinking! Can’t you see that?” The Queen asked with rhetorical venom.

  “Okay, mother. You are right. You are always right.” Shayla should have known better than to speak her mind to her mother. She almost reminded her mother of all the homeless Spots but knew it would fall on deaf ears as she would undoubtedly talk about how they were “comfortably sheltered.” Yes, that’s true, as long as one considered “comfort” personal space the size of a refrigerator box with food that was akin to gruel from a Dickens novel.

  “Do I have to remind you that your great grandmother was raped at age 14?”

  “I know, and that was terrible, but not all men are rapists and evil the way you make them out to be,” Shayla said.

  “Sexual assaults and violence have been eradicated from our society. The only reason you can walk through a city park after dark with ease and freedom is because our first Queen passed mandatory castration laws. I’m proud of her and what she stood for.”

  “Are you proud of the fact that we’re the oppressors? Just today I walked by a Taser who had a man strapped to a chair, in the middle of the park, with duct tape on his mouth…Isn’t that assault?”

  “We do that to keep the men safe. They crave that discipline, deep down,” the Queen said, not letting Shayla finish. “At the core, men are uncontrollable animals. It’s not their fault, you understand. We must help them, and that’s what we have done. It’s for their own good. It’s for everyone’s own good.”

  “That was a long time ago, mother. Things have changed,” Shayla said, growing weary of this argument.

  “They are dangerous. Studies and history have shown…”

  “What about Daddy? Was he a monster, too? After all, he was a man!” Shayla yelled. This time it was her turn to bring her father up. She hated doing it, but had to prove her point. Shayla closed her eyes, feeling bad for using his memory this way, but she knew he would have understood.