Definitely Against Policy, page 10
“Eli, it’s only eleven. Can’t it wait a bit?”
“No. I mean yes. Yes, it can wait.” Each syllable etched a groove on the interior of his skull.
She turned and cocked her head to the side. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. We’ll have pizza later.” Jesus. He sounded autistic. Or angry.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be here. I can go—”
“No. Please stay, Mary.” It came out like a plea. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto the couch and propped his feet on a wooden crate. “Sit with me.”
“Eli, you don’t want me here.”
Too loud. “Shh, Mary. I do. If you won’t sit, can you run the cold water…”
“What?”
“Headache. If I get an ice-cold cloth over my forehead, it helps.”
“Oh.”
Eli closed his eyes. He’d ask Mary to close the blinds. Grandma used to rub an oily salve on his neck and forehead when he got this way. Yet it wasn’t the salve that soothed him. It was her abiding presence. It was not suffering alone.
Mary returned and pressed a cold terrycloth to his head.
He closed his eyes and said, “In a minute, I’m going to lie down in bed. It will help me, more than I can say right now, if you would stay with me. Nearby.”
“I’m here, Eli.”
“Thank you. There’s not much to do here, but you can use my laptop. The password is ‘Maryrose’.”
****
Mary opened the bedroom door a few inches and peered in. Stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers, Eli slept with a pillow over his head, curled on his side like a baby, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Later, if he felt better, she could snuggle in beside him. She padded over to the bedside table and replaced the half-empty glass of lukewarm water with a full, icy-cold one, then left the room, closing the door behind her.
Back to Eli’s laptop. She’d snooped only enough to discover that he wasn’t into porn, and that he’d actually downloaded her proposal. Now she had to get some work done. No more procrastinating on Substack. She reached into the recesses of her memory to retrieve her password and managed to log into the university portal on the second try. Still nothing from Gabriel—it was a holiday—but there were more essay submissions from the Thursday evening class for her reading delight. Ready, set, mouse click.
How Nietzsche’s Philosophy Helps Performance
Philosophy 307 Theories on Justice
By Megan M. Morris
Friedrich Nietzsche was born in Germany in 1844 except it wasn’t called Germany then because it was still called Prussia and he was named after the King who had the same name and birthday as him. Nietzsche is the famous philosopher who stated, “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” This essay will argue that Nietzsche’s quote is a useful idea to keep in mind when life is hard or difficult or when you have a goal that seems impossible to achieve and—
Weary with boredom, Mary rubbed her eyes. Her stomach growled. She went to the kitchen to find something snackable.
As she opened the fridge door, she made a closer examination of the child’s drawing of a pink pig in a princess getup that Eli had taped to the freezer door. The picture was dedicated to ‘Uncle Eli’ and the artist was ‘Rebekah, age 8’, as credited in an old-fashioned, childish cursive. Eli had a family who cared enough to send him this.
The contents of the fridge were dispiriting. If condiments in various states of decay and an inch of cola in the bottom of a plastic bottle were a meal, she was all set. In the cupboard stood a row of mason jars filled with jewel-colored liquids and jellies, all sealed. She wouldn’t touch those sacred objects.
Plan A, ordering pizza, was the most sensible option. A large pizza, because Eli might be hungry when he woke. It would be expensive. She’d seen a stack of flyers on the table. Perhaps he had a coupon.
Mary shuffled through the brightly inked cardstock and newsprint. Pizza-Pizza, Dominoes, Little Caesar’s, Papa Gino’s—the last one sounded authentic. Maybe there was a real Gino tossing dough in the air while belting out Puccini instead of a sullen adolescent with ears buds shoveling frozen discs into an oven. Papa Gino offered two dollars off a large pepperoni. And what was this? A letter.
From Mrs. Abraham Klassen of RR #2, Eden Springs. The edge of the envelope was torn. Eli was fast asleep. He wouldn’t mind, would he? If she read it? Since it was already open? And so, she did read it, three times through, the letter’s poignancy intensifying a vicarious pang of loss in her jaded urbanite’s heart with each reading.
Today was Good Friday. Eli’s family would attend church. Kids would dye eggs and women would bake sweet breads for Easter. Men, well, who knew what they did. Eli, that’s who. Whatever his reasons for leaving Eden Springs and the Brethren community, Eli would miss celebrating Easter with his family. Maybe not every Klassen, but some of them. Mary tucked the letter into its envelope and slipped it under the flyers, where she found it. When Eli awoke, she’d have a hard time unknowing what she knew.
****
A beam of light at the edge of a crooked blind cast the room in hazy shapes and shadows. The door was closed, the room quiet apart from the low hum of distant traffic and the downtown airport. She was still here. Though Mary didn’t make a sound, he sensed her presence.
His head ached, though nothing like before. Water. He rolled over, reached for the glass, coughed when it hit his dry throat. Like a downpour on a parched field, rainwater spilling into ditches.
The door opened slowly. She was checking on him.
“I’m awake,” he said.
“Do you need anything, Eli?”
“You.”
“There’s pizza.”
“In a bit.”
Mary snuggled next to him, and they lay together in a damp cloud of linen. The room was stuffy, probably smelled of sick body odor, but he didn’t feel like getting up to crack a window open.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better. Weak. After a bad headache, I feel kind of limp and wrung out.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No, not recently. Doctors are pill-pushers. I don’t want to get addicted to anything.”
Mary’s muscles tensed. He kissed her forehead to forestall a concerned scolding. “I’ve had these headaches for years. My grandma used to make a salve and an herbal tea that helped.”
“Maybe your family could send you some.”
“Nah. I have Advil. And you.”
Mary wiggled in closer and rested her head in the hollow below his shoulder. He liked it when women did this. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her. This wasn’t the way he imagined welcoming Mary into his bed. This was better. She’d stayed by his side when he needed her. He could trust her.
“What kind of pizza is it?”
“Pepperoni with onion, green pepper, mushroom, and tomato so you get your vegetables. There’s a Caesar salad, too.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
“Hey, it’s a business expense.”
Chapter Ten
Mary dressed with care on Saturday morning. Blouse and blazer, fitted trousers, and boots with enough heel to satisfy Eli and Claudia. Hair swept up in a silver clasp, dangly earrings, mascara, and lipstick, and she was ready. It was only 10:30. Enough time to go to her desk, check her bank balance, and answer a couple of emails.
April’s rent was coming due. If she only made the minimum payment on her Mastercard she could just cover it. What? Holy shit! There was over ten thousand dollars in her checking account! Mary laughed in disbelief and Dominic, a human moth drawn to any sound of joy, poked his head through the doorway of the kitchen where he was repotting plants.
“I’m rich.” Mary stared at the number. $10,450.45.
“How rich?” Dominic stuck his trowel in a soil-filled pot and wiped his hands on his apron.
“About ten thousand dollars richer than I expected.” She clicked on the balance. Eli. It had to be. “Problem is I didn’t earn it. Eli just gave it to me.”
“Quite right. You must return the money,” Dominic sniffed with a sanctimonious air. “Ten thousand dollars is pocket change for Monsieur Klassen, but you’re not a charity case. I mean, the nerve of the man.”
“But I haven’t been contributing, Dominic. In the last month, all I’ve done of real value is edit a document that Felicity Hill screwed up. When I show up at the office, I just get in Eli’s way.”
“Ten thousand dollars. You must feel so dirty.”
Mary swiveled her chair to face Dominic, who stood in the doorway with his nose in the air and an offended scowl on his face. “Never mind that he’s paying you from the tens of thousands of dollars in commission he earned this week alone. You have principles!”
“It’s the power dynamic. I’m self-reliant. Independent. Equal. If he gives me money, it makes me beholden to him.”
“What’s so bad about that? I’d gladly let a stud like Eli behold me.”
“I’m a feminist.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “A feminist with overdue bills.”
“There’ll be strings attached.”
“Strings,” panted Dominic. “Grab my bridle!”
“Expectations. Unstated but ever present.”
“Lucky you.”
“I’ll have to talk to him.” Mary turned back to the screen. The money was kind of nice. Actually, it was super nice.
Back in the kitchen, Dominic sang to his plants. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary, won’t let her garden grow.”
“Because I do have principles,” called Mary.
“And overdue bills in a row,” sang Dominic.
****
Mary entered the sales office as Claudia pirouetted with a can of Febreze spraying from her raised hand like a citrus-scented liberty torch. Dressed in matching smock dresses and sequined scarves, Jonquil and Siobhan lined up wine glasses next to a fan of cocktail napkins on the cloth-draped reception desk. An air of nervous anticipation filled the room.
Mary greeted the trio, hung her coat, and found Eli in the kitchenette. He wasn’t alone. While he knelt in front of the fridge and crammed platters of sushi next to bottles of white wine, a blond girl bent over him. Her breasts hovered over his head like twin dirigibles buzzing a field.
“That’s it, Eli.” The girl spoke in a breathy, effervescent voice. “If you set the bottles sixty-nine style, everything will fit.”
“From Takamatsu?” Mary asked to make her presence known.
“Yup. Ikeda-san’s best,” Eli said without looking up.
The girl turned and thrust her chest forward aggressively, or so it seemed. Mary extended her hand. “I’m Mary Rose.”
The girl waved away her hand and substituted an elbow bump. “Felicity Hill. Stephen and Claudia’s niece?”
“Yes, of course,” said Mary. “You’re working at the reception desk in the main office.”
“For now.” The girl turned and batted her absurdly thick lashes at Eli. “Aunt Claudia wants me to learn from the best, so I might be working here soon.”
Now Eli was standing, too, and Mary saw his gaze drift briefly to Felicity’s cashmere covered boobs. Unbelievable. The girl spoke like a cartoon character but apparently, that didn’t bother him, given her other assets. Mary had read about this phenomenon in a dog-eared Cosmopolitan at a walk-in hair salon. The article stated there were two kinds of males, ass guys and breast guys, with a quiz to inform the reader which type she was dating. Eli was definitely the latter, utterly distracted by the presence of hypertrophic female breast tissue.
“Well, I’m sure Eli has given you a warm welcome,” said Mary.
“Oh, he has.” Giggle. “Haven’t you, Eli?”
Eli smiled vacantly, cleared his throat, and checked his watch. “A half-hour to show time. Claudia and I like to hold a quick team meeting before events like this.”
Mary was already backing out of the kitchenette.
They gathered in a circle, she and Felicity on either side of Eli, Jonquil and Siobhan opposite. Claudia took the floor and nodded to each of them.
“First, I regret to inform everyone that Stephen won’t be with us today.” She stared wistfully at the floor. “He’s developed a sniffle, and with our enlightened knowledge of viruses and infection control, he has opted to do the responsible thing and remain at home today.” She looked pointedly at Mary and sighed. “It’s probably for the best.”
“That’s why I’m elbow bumping,” squeaked Felicity.
Brittle as an ice sculpture, Claudia smiled. “You’re so considerate of the health of others, Felicity. However, if a guest offers you their hand, I urge you to shake it. You may keep a small bottle of sanitizer on your person, to be used discreetly.” She looked to Jonquil and Siobhan. “Refreshments?”
Jonquil stepped forward. “Siobhan and I have several bottles of red wine at the desk, white chilling in the fridge, freshly pressed juices, mineral water, coffee, and tea. Eli?”
“Sushi, cheese and fruit platters, and a plate of cookies,” he replied.
“Well done, Eli,” Claudia purred, as if he’d been up all night baking. “And the sales packages?”
Felicity rocked forward on her toes. “Written, formatted, and ready, Aunt Claudia.”
Mary broke in. “I had to edit—” Eli’s elbow connected with her ribcage, though only hard enough to bruise her ego.
“Mary printed the document,” he interrupted. “Thank you, Felicity. It’s very well done.” Yuck. Eli flashed a smile at the feather-brained girl, then looked to Claudia. “Mary and I collated the packages and I’ve put them on the table beside the scale model, along with the guest book and our business cards.”
“Then we’re ready. Agents from one to two p.m., and the general public from two to four. We unlock the doors in ten minutes. Stations?”
“Jonquil and I are tending the bar,” said Siobhan.
“I’m on meet and greet at the door. First impressions!” Felicity smirked at Mary.
“And Eli and I are handling sales,” said Claudia. She also turned to Mary. “That leaves you on clean up. Crumpled napkins, shrimp tails, dirty glasses. You know the routine.”
Mary nodded. Ten thousand bucks for maid duty. Later she’d even throw in a hand job if Eli behaved and unglued his eyes from the two elephants in the room.
“Remember our motto,” said Claudia.
“Future focused?” squeaked Felicity.
“Eyes on the prize!” corrected Claudia.
****
Mary wiped the counter in the kitchenette and rinsed and wrung the sponge, then tied up a garbage bag and deposited it by the front door. Done. Solo. Because Eli told the others they’d handle clean-up, and after everyone left, he yacked on the phone, “doing deals.”
“That went well.” Eli stuck his shoeless feet on the coffee table and took a belt of red wine.
Mary poured herself a glass and sat in the armchair. “Cheers.” She raised her glass in the air. The wine, from a bottle with a real cork, washed over her tongue in rich flavors of spice, but she was in no mood to enjoy it.
“Cheers, way over there.” Eli raised his glass in return and drank again. “We did it, Mary. A holiday Saturday was a risk, but it paid off. We even ran out of brochures.”
“It was busy,” she agreed sourly. Eli and Claudia had been in fine form—establishing rapport, flattering and jollying, easing visitors into an idealized vision of their clients or themselves in a luxury suite. She’d witnessed two real estate pros operating at the top of their game as she scurried around their ankles in domestic drudgery.
“We’ll have to print more packages on Monday,” said Eli. “And add the guestbook entries to the mailing list. I’ll be tied up in follow-up calls.”
“I’ll do it. Unless Felicity replaces me.”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can think of a couple of enormous reasons.”
“I’ll pretend I don’t know what you mean.”
“How P.C. of you.”
“Anyway, Felicity won’t be working here.”
“Really, Eli? She seemed pretty gung-ho on the idea, and she really likes you.” Mary raised her voice to pre-schooler register. “Aunt Claudia wants me to learn the ropes from the best.”
“You’re jealous.” Eli laughed.
“I am not. I just don’t think it’s appropriate for men—” Mary pointed her finger at Eli— “to stare at her breasts.”
“Number one: I didn’t do that.”
“Did so.”
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
“And number two,” Eli continued, “she shouldn’t wear tight sweaters if she doesn’t want to attract attention, but since she does wear them, she draws eyes. Not mine though.”
“Eli, you are so wrong about that. Your eyes were bulging out of their sockets.”
“Let’s drop it.”
“Them.”
“Now you’re being childish. An accidental glance means nothing, and you know it.” Eli shifted on the sofa and crossed his ankles the other way. Away from her. Creating distance. Maybe she was reading too much into his body language. Those damned Cosmo articles gave women a complex.
They drank in a silence so tense, Mary could burst it with a fruit-kebab skewer. Or with a humble admission.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re right. I’m jealous. And I stared, too.”
He looked back at her, half smiled, and patted the sofa cushion. “I hate arguing. Come on—”
“Me?” Mary batted her lashes in imitation of the fake ingénue who’d so unnerved her.
“Yeah. You and only you,” said Eli.
Mary joined him, and after they’d arranged themselves in a warm snuggle, she said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For ten thousand dollars.”
“Oh. Yeah. That,” he said. “You earned it.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Trust me. You did. My life is infinitely better since we started working together.”
“Infinitely?”
“Well, maybe not infinitely. Now if you wore a little French maid outfit while you cleaned the place…something low-cut…no underwear.”
