Bitch Boss Part 4

An ambulance with lights and sirens speeds through the city's quiet street at full throttle, as if someone's life depended on it…

"I will be ready in ten minutes. Why don't you go down to Piscus first."

We spend almost every evening after work during the week. The weekend is off-limit. This has been going on for five, or six years now. My heart still pounds when I get his texts even though there is only a wall between us as he works in his office next to mine.

Piscus is our go-to place. It is in the basement with no windows, so we do not run into the risk of being seen. We have been going there for years now. The waiting staff recognise us. We get the corner table most of the time, away from the prying eyes. Finance is a small world and the CBD is even smaller. They may already know and I suspect they all talk behind our back. If they do not say it to my face, I will just carry on as usual.

It has been drizzling nonstop today. The relentless tiny water drops that float in the air make everything miserable and grey. The stairs leading down to the restaurant are slippery and I rushed out of the office and forgot to change my heels. Damn. The leather soles are now damp, a good pair of shoes ruined.

"Usual?" says Maria the waitress.

"Sure. Thanks."

I love the first sip of prosecco at happy hours. You can feel the alcohol reaching the lining of the half-empty stomach, getting absorbed and hitting the blood, spreading the effect throughout the whole body. The high. Nothing can beat the high.

"Another one?" Maria, like a ghost, appears from nowhere.

"Yeah…why not." I pull down my ponytail. Pulling my hair back the whole day gives me a headache and it is killing me.

Forty minutes have been and gone and he is nowhere to be seen. Where is he? But I know better than texting him.

The second prosecco hits even harder. The bubbles have gone to my head. The floor moves a little. My head feels heavier. Maria looks younger. The noise seems more distant. Other customers look more blurred. The eyes are more difficult to focus. Nonetheless, I see him come in at the corner of my eyes.

"Hey."

"What took you so long?" I growl. Prosecco emboldens and saddens me. Without looking up from the champagne flute, I feel rage.

He is startled by my hostility and stops in the middle of pulling the chair out to sit.

"She called again? What, like the 5th time today."

"Look. I am sorry. You know little Tim went to the psychologist today. I told you, remember? He has been acting out lately. It needs to get nipped in the bud. His mother is worried. We all are. She was just giving me a load down of what happened in the meeting."

"Yeah. Sure."

"Hey. Maria. How about bringing me my third and his first." I wave my hand impatiently to get her attention.

"Any food? The sea bass is amaz…"

"Nah. Not hungry." I interrupt Maria mid-sentence. She walks away embarrassingly. She does not deserve my attitude. But I have been suppressing my frustration the whole evening, I am desperate to let it out on something, on someone.

I only had a sandwich at lunch but I have lost all my appetite with her in our conversation. Silence envelops us. We drink in quietness. My mind is boiling with ideas and thoughts, and all the things I want to say but I know damn well if I say them, I would regret them afterwards. The words going around in my head, shouting, wanting to come out, wanting to escape. I shake my head trying to get rid of them.

"You alright?"

I open my mouth but no words come out. I want to scream but I quell it. Not here. Not now. My head is getting even heavier. I must keep my calm. I am not her. I must show him that I am nothing like her.

His phone rings. It is her. He rejects the call.

His phone rings again. It is her again. "I need to take it."

I cannot breathe. I am suffocating. I pull my shirt collar away from my neck. Do they have the heating on high here tonight? I am sweating.

He walks away to another corner. He never wants me to hear his conversation with his wife. He even turns his back away. What is he worried about? I cannot lip-read you know.

It is time for another round and he is still on the phone. I cannot stand it anymore. The air is getting thicker. The room is getting stuffier. My head is getting heavier. I feel more nauseous. The atmosphere is denser, sitting on my chest. I need some fresh air.

I get up and nearly lose balance with these damn heels. They still feel damp. It must be the drinks.

I climb up the stairs slowly holding the handrail, out of breath. Someone is coming down and that idiot bumps into me and nearly knocks me over. I steady myself, give him a dirty look and I swear at him as he turns away. It is so unlike me. It must be the drinks.

Fresh air at last. I take a deep breath to clear my head. The cold winter air rushes in through my open shirt sending me a chill. I shiver. I have left my coat behind in a fury. If only I had a smoke with me now, I would have fallen off the wagon. It must be the drinks.

I cross my arms tight trying to keep myself warm and stare into the nothingness. My mind is still racing with all sorts of ideas and telling myself stories, made-up stories. He is the villain. Baseless stories that I make up in my mind to convince myself he is doing all the bad things. I cursed him the day he was borne. Almost six years now, when is he going to divorce his wife? Will he ever? He loves his kids so much. He asked me to wait for another ten years. Ten fucking years? I will be 48 years old. It would be far too late if this does not work out. I have been stringing along, right? Right? Jesus, can't believe how stupid I have been. Tonight. Tonight. I am going to break up with him. Tonight, I am going to tell him he cannot take advantage of me anymore. This joke has been going on for far too long and it must end. Tonight. The rain is getting heavier now. I take another deep breath, muster all my strength, and close my eyes for a moment to tell me that I am doing the right thing. I feel sick to my stomach. It must be the drinks. There is no time like the present. I must go and tell him now. I am weak. I will never be able to break up with him if I let this moment pass.

I hurry down the steps, whispering, this is it, darling. No more games, I am leaving you. I am leaving you for good. You are no good to me. You lie. You cheat. You have no intention to leave her and be with me. All the promises. All empty words. You are no…

…it has been raining all day long. She does not stand a chance. Her heels. Her drunkenness. The slippery steps. The rage. She cannot think straight. She cannot see straight. She still has her arms crossed in front of her chest. She is running down the steps now. All it takes is one wrong step and one wrong step she takes. She twists her ankle. Alcohol in her system delays her reaction to the fall. Her head hits the bottom of the stairs before she can even open her arms to grab the handrail. It all happens so fast. Too fast. She lands on an awkward angle. She breaks her neck before she finishes cursing him. She dies instantly. Her eyes are still wide open…

…Maria hears the noise of something heavy falling down the stairs and sticks her head out to have a look.

"Fuck!"

Upon hearing that, her manager rushes out to see his customer lump at the corner of the stairs, motionless.

"Call an ambulance! Maria! Quick!"

He eventually turns his head around hearing all the commotion. He looks to see where she is. She is not at the table, but her bag is there so she has not run away to protest. She must be in the bathroom. He turns to talk to the phone again.

…an ambulance with lights and sirens speeds through the city's quiet street at full throttle, as if someone's life depended on it.

#adayinthejungle #bitchboss #meethersorryend