Sybil
How pathetic am I? It’s Christmas Eve, approaching 4:00 p.m., and unlike everybody else, I have nowhere to go. While everyone around me is getting ready to go home to their families, I’m in my office’s kitchen, helping myself to another cup of tea. I’m going to be here all evening, and I need my green tea to get through.
Outside, a thick layer of snow is covering the neighborhood in its white coat of tranquility. We rarely get a white Christmas in this city and I'm loving the sight of it. There’s a cozy sense of home and comfort to it, even here, so far away from home.
The sound of familiar footsteps echoes through the silence and causes me to turn toward the door.
“You’re still here?” my coworker Melanie asks. She’s standing in the doorway, dressed and ready to go, holding the paper bag with the present our boss gave to everyone today in her hand. Mr. Stark made sure that everyone got one and every bag was the same size, so I assume that we all got the same assortment of expensive chocolates or some kind of decorative knickknack from a designer store that none of us could afford. I haven’t even opened mine yet.
“Yeah, Mr. Stark asked me to finish up on some files before the holidays,” I tell her, hoping that I don’t sound too pathetic.
“But, the holidays are starting now,” Melanie insists, cocking her head to the side. “It’s Christmas Eve! Everybody is going home.”
“I’m not,” I say. “At least not today. I’m not leaving for my parents’ place until tomorrow afternoon.”
I regret my words as soon as I say them. Melanie’s eyes widen in shock and empathy.
“Oh my God, Sybil, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she exclaims, as if I’d just told her that someone died. “If I had known, I would have invited you to stay with us tonight and-”
“It’s okay, really,” I try to calm her. “I have so much to do, and I get to see them tomorrow. Besides, Mr. Stark is paying me overtime, and I could really use the money.”
“Oh, I see,” Melanie says, not even trying to hide how sorry she feels for me. “Well, he better pay you double extra for this.”
She pauses and checks if anyone else is around before she leans in closer and whispers: “I mean, I know it’s hard to say to 'no' to him, but asking you to stay late on Christmas Eve is really something, even coming from Mr. Stark. Especially when he’s not working himself.”
“I was actually glad for the opportunity,” I tell her, and that’s the truth. When Mr. Stark asked me if I was willing and able to work overtime right around Christmas, I didn’t hesitate to tell him I was. And it was not because I have trouble saying no to that gorgeous man, but because I really need the money. This city is expensive and that whole making-it-on-my-own dream won’t get very far if I can’t pay my rent while paying off my substantial credit card debt at the same time.
Melanie wishes me Happy Holidays and disappears down the hall. While carrying my freshly brewed tea back to my office, I realize that she must have been the very last person to leave the office tonight. I’m all by myself.
“Well, this is a first,” I whisper, my voice breaking through the silence in an odd way. It’s strange to hear my voice without anyone responding to it, even though I’d developed this habit of talking to myself a long time ago. I’ve received some unwanted attention because of it more than once, and I might be known as quite the weirdo among my coworkers.
But I don’t care. I have enough to worry about and can’t be bothered by their gossip for more than a moment.
The snow continues to fall outside, holding my attention as I sip on the tea. Now that everyone has gone home, and the city is about to turn into a scene that looks like it’s straight from a Christmas movie, I do feel it. The loneliness, the pathetic sensation of feeling sorry for myself, because I’m still here working, while pretty much everyone else is enjoying the first of many holiday dinners, complete with children, grandparents, a friendly dog, maybe even a warm and cozy fireplace with stockings hanging from the mantle.
I don’t have any of that. Even if I was home with my family tonight, there would be none of that picture perfect Christmas atmosphere. It would just be my drunken father, my overly concerned mother, my slightly racist grandparents and my insufferable brother with his pregnant wife. And all of them would be throwing reproachful looks in my direction, for leaving Jack, the perfect son-in-law. He was perfect looking, perfectly nice and even more charming, the perfect man to impregnate me and grant me eternal happiness.
Except that he wasn’t any of that. He was an abusive asshole who treated me poorly, because he knew he could. I’d lived with it for long enough and I’d told myself for way too long that I deserved to be treated like a cheap servant. He lacked the most basic respect and it’s a surprise that he never hit me. I should have left him a lot sooner, long before my family could fall for his fake game and fall in love with him the way they did.
I could see the disappointment in my mother’s face when I told her that I would be leaving Jack and moving to the city for a new job. I saw, in her expression, all her hopes and dreams for me fall apart as she stared at me with disbelief. They had all been expecting us to announce our engagement at any moment, but instead I delivered that final blow.
It's been nearly a year, and I have yet to be forgiven by any of them.
I, on the other hand, have never felt happier or as free as I do these days. I moved to New York City on my own, I have a cute little studio apartment that is just mine, I have a social circle and a job that I like and that still has so much potential for more. I’m working as a paralegal for one of the biggest and most respected law firms in town.
I’m working for Landen Stark, for God’s sake. His father built an empire and he’s not only keeping it alive, but making it thrive on his own. He’s stupidly rich, but he still works his ass off.
And he’s so dreamy! Only a few years older than I am, Mr. Stark radiates a confidence and wisdom that is beyond his years, and so damn sexy. He’s very tall and even in his suit it’s easy to tell that he works out regularly. His custom-tailored jacket stretches over his strong biceps when he gestures while he’s talking and his shoulders are so broad that even I feel like tiny gazelle next to him, even though I’m anything but short myself. His strong jaw is somehow always speckled with a three-day stubble and his eyes are of a very unique color, I can never tell whether it’s green or more of a gray tone. He has a very intense way of looking at people, which makes all the female employees think that he must be flirting with them. I’m no exception. When I first met Mr. Stark, I was so confused by his intense way of looking at me while we were speaking that I even found myself avoiding eye contact with him altogether. It felt as if he was unraveling me with his gaze, looking right at the depths of my soul, seeing all the dirty little secrets that I like to hide from the outside world.
As if he would see all the naughty things I fantasize about when I see him. I can’t help it. He makes me wonder. I wonder if he’s as assertive and commanding in the bedroom as he is at work. Watching him during our monthly division meeting is a secret joy of mine. He’s so eloquent, so powerful and influential.
When he looks at me it’s as if he’s thinking about it, too. As if he’s thinking about controlling me as he pleases…
Of course, all of that is nonsense. It’s just how he is. But this is what Melanie meant when she said that it’s hard to say no to him. She’s absolutely right, but Mr. Stark's demanding aura is still not the reason for me to be here tonight.
It’s the tough reality of my independence. I have no one to take care of me anymore, like Jack did. Part of his abusive behavior was to make me completely dependent on him, so I never really had a real job until I finally left him. Earning my own money was the most liberating experience in all of this, but it’s also tough when you're just starting out, especially in combination with the high living cost of Manhattan.
I pull myself back to reality and out of my daydream. There are not that many files left and if I get to work instead of letting my imagination run wild all evening, I might actually get to go home earlier than expected. Who knows, I might even have time to see the Rockefeller tree downtown on my way home.