The Final Renunion

The only sound lingering sorrow within my office is the clicking of my keyboard matched with the vibration of the A-train. Pulling my heavy bagged eyes from the skyline, my phone takes the stage by snatching the subways hum in an effort to announce an incoming call. Samson. “Hey Boo! I just wanted to see if you’re going to be late this evening or if I should cook you dinner?” Samson’s voice is deep and weary, yet just as I exhale a sigh the heaviness sends waves of disappointment crashing through the phone line. “You know, don’t worry about it. Not tonight at least, but you need to hire an assistant to help you with the paper pushing. I miss having a wife.” his tone basking in loneliness. I can’t help but smile as I clear the dryness from my throat, “Speaking of assistants, I’m currently looming over the hiring ad. I just need to hit publish. You’ll have your wife back in no time.” Giggles bounce from each other’s speakers as we say our goodbyes.

Nearly four days have come and gone setting in the summer heat, conducting interviews is stowed upon my to do list. With such an unexpected influx of applicants, I was too overwhelmed to start the judging process right away. I didn’t even attempt two rounds. One sufficed granting the discovery of a picture perfect employee. Young, motivated and, well educated. Although she refers to Cass or Cassie, (short for Cassandra). The interview left me with the impression she may be in dire need of employment just as I am in dire need of an employee. Funny how the universe works sometimes. With experiencing such luck, I seem to be fighting the excitement resulting in quick bouncing off my right leg. Lending my fingertips the mundane bounces my feet carry, I type a text to the one person who will share the buzz. Samson. I might as well take the chance to thank him, his analytical thought process birthed the idea and hopefully just saved our marriage.

As Monday excepts from most working class moguls, I wake up at 5am as per usual. Allowing my arrival at the office to be a bit earlier than usual - just a quarter past 7:00 am. Odor of wet ink and paper welcomes my presence a micmick of a corporate good morning upon my deep inhale. The weekend was another example of Samson chartering to an absent lover, not only had he set up the new reception area, pouring the energy of excitement into making Cassandra’s work area feel like home.

While firing up the new macbook, the greeting melodies seconds as a theme song for Cassie as the elevator slides open spitting her out as the jingle erupts the last beat. My gaze flicks to the clock centered above the elevator it’s exactly 8:00 am, right on time, taking in the timely observation as a good omen. Cassandra’s black slip dress is paired with a darling pair of wedged sandals hugging her curves intently, business ready.

Breaking the silence between us Cassie’s voice startled me for a moment, “Good morning Romona, I studied the binder all weekend! I even remembered your coffee order without looking.” her ruby painted lips curl into a smile as she extends her arm out with the peace offer, I can’t help but study the drink label. Damn she’s good. Before I get the chance to display my gratitude, our gaze meets inginiting the familiarity in her eyes. “Ramona, are you okay? D-Di- did I get the order wrong? I made sure to go to your favorite location? I’m sorry? “ Concern laces her words whilst pouring into her expression. I catch myself before full dissociation takes the reign of my day.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Where did you say you were from again? Your presence is just so familiar.” I inquire before submitting myself to further awkward behavior. I clap both hands together and begin assigning her with packets paperwork, light bookkeeping. Easy enough.

Within Two weeks, Cassandra has gifted me a chance to socialize again, home life has done a 360, not only have Samson and I finally succeeded with a date night but with my new found time I was able to call my grandmother. I hadn’t called her within the last two years of becoming a CEO.

Awful,I know.

In addition to today being our third Monday together, I advise Cassie to take the morning off. Yet, to my detriment I am faced with a wall of regret, not even thirty minutes later. As my sweat begins beading in my palm, butterflies now replace my protein shake, turning my stomach upside down.

The trigger?

Twenty-Nine missed emails from four out of the company’s ten clients, clearly riddled with a similar peeve that begins to plague my thoughts. Anger undertakes the rush of anxiety, my pulse falling in rhythm beats morph, becoming intensely intentional. Taking a deep breath whilst counting to ten does little to clear my mind. Failing to talk myself down, I find myself indulging in my own private investigation.

Three hours pass before the blaring discomfort of my ringtone reels me back to reality, I task myself with a few harsh blinks, efforts to rid the dry sandy feeling - a result of the bright LED screen blinding with information. With burning eyes, I see the caller ID, ‘Eleanor‘, My grandmother. A warm fuzzy feeling begins to distract me from the stranger on my payroll. “Hey Gam, I was just thinking about you!” , just as I prepare my elaboration, Gam beats me to the punch with a deep dive right into her stories and inquiries. The melancholic sound of her voice rids my mind of focus. I miss her so much. I never knew my mother, as she chose to chase a high rather than be a nurturing. I spent my childhood as my grandmothers eldest daughter and second hand. My grandfather had died in the line of duty on September 11th, 2001. He was a brawny man, dense strong shoulders and cocoa skin. To combat her loneliness, my grandma Eleanor began fostering children, up until about just two years ago.

“Gam, I don’t mean to cut you off but I have a question burning up in my throat!” my words cut her voice in two, “Do you remember that awkward mixed girl you had in your care for a couple years? Uh I think her name was Liberty or Lucy? Something with an ‘L’?” my voice plummets through the phone, silence replaces the words. “Lucy, her full name was Lucille. Petite girl, dominican mother and black father. Yes. Oh yes, how could I forget that one?” Gam softly ponders, “Why do you ask honey? Are you doing okay?”. My coffin shaped nails tapping their nervous melody. Clearing my throat, “Yes. Yes everything is perfectly fine. I was just wondering, What ever happened to her?” I strongly question. Laced with hesitation gam sighs rashly, “You know baby, that one she was uh well different. She was very weird about you. Only you. Well one day while everyone was going on with their busy day I decided to clean and organize the rooms I had you kids in. You know the girls room with the bunk beds? As I was stripping her bed, I intended on flipping the mattress as per usual, when I was faced with knives, a couple journals, even polaroids of you. However these pictures were clearly taken without your knowledge. That’s when I began piecing her together. I gave those children the benefit of the doubt, always. Life had been cruel to them for no reason, behavioral issues were a given, Lucy was just different. Her behavior worsened after you had gone to college. Sneaking out, Stealing, Sleeping constantly through the day. Then one day, she never came back home. I reported it but you know how Brooklyn PD is, immediately after becoming aware she was in the system and over fifteen years old, the case was basically written off. Never heard from her again, sometimes I think it was for the best.” her explanation sounds bleak as she continues, “Why do you ask? I really didn’t even think you remembered her.”

Stillness replaces the conversation, my thoughts waltzing to the aggressive beating of my pulse. Breaking the silence, I begin to bring forward my recent findings- the real reason I had been thinking about Gam. “I had to hire a personal assistant. Samson insisted. So I did as such, found the perfect candidate and hired her immediately. Long story short I advised her to take this morning off, trying to show her a little gratuity for all her amazing work. Well what I assumed was amazing work till now. Invoices, Emails, Confirmations and, more were either not done, done completely wrong or, ignored. Furthermore, on her first day a few weeks back, when our eyes met I felt like I knew her. The way she walks, the way she writes it was all so familiar. Subsequently, I began deep diving. She goes by Cassie now.” Words erupt like vomit. I can feel my chest rise and fall with each shaky breathe. “Ramona, I don’t like the sound of this. If you’re intuition isn’t quitting down, you know to listen right?” Gams voice becoming a bundle of nerves. Before I’m able to finish the conversation, my attention is pulled to the elevator doors. She’s here. Solicitously, I’m cutting the phone call short. I need to give myself enough time to fully find out who Cassandra really is.

Distribly, she seems as if everything is just peachy. I can play this game too, probably even better.

The day carries on without confrontation. Well, until we’re packing up for the evening. Amidst my impartial confusion, I can’t help but call her into my office right at five. As I’m mentally flashing through my questions like flashcards, the soft clicking of Cassie’s heels undelibratly rid me of my thought process. During the course of our conversation I take extra precaution in observing her mannerisms, she’s a liar. I cut her off, my lips curling into a sarcastic smirk. My head is shaking in both disbelief and entertainment, our brown eyes meet and I finally utter the million dollar question.

“Have we met before?”

Cassie’s expression becomes painted in emotions like the words are poisonous. Rather than directly answering my question her mouth opens as if she’s about to belt a blood curdling scream instead it’s laughter, a maniacally horrendous laugh. Her brown eyes have darkened morphing like a butterfly, hands fidgeting. I’m imploded with anxiety as sweat beads begin the expedition of streaking down my face and back, spontaneously heat begins surging in my veins. Without warning, Cassie raises her right arm as she lunges forward her long fingers grip my collar hastily pulling towards her. Unceremoniously her left hand swings over the desk, paperweight in hand and before I am able to react, a robust impact has me reeling to my feet in a matter of seconds stepping back in perplexity, my back meets the cool wall behind me. Through all the pandemonium, I’m able to clear my blurred vision in time to witness Cassie lurking slowly towards me, promoting me in biting back a fearful whimper. “Ramona, don’t look so nervous. You didn’t want a family reunion? C’mon sis.” Cassie’s tone sinister, chilling my bones with fear. “You’re too smart for your own good. Always have been. Ramona don’t you remember? You treated me like the shit on the bottom of your shoe, engaging in the torment I received in school, mocking everything I did with your friends. All for a moment of entertainment. I’ve been looking for you since you graduated college Ramona. Always too busy to notice anyone, too busy to be kind to strangers…” she pauses, basking in my horror. “Too busy for your own husband. How sad, maybe after i’m done with you I pay him a visit? Keep him company as he mourns his absent minded wife.” Cassie voices her malignant plan. She came back to kill me.

Charging at me like bull, I dodge her. Lucy bellows a monstrous giggle, her look is petrifying. The silver blade reflects off the office lights granting me an unpromising advantage. As she begins to sprint towards me once more, I brace myself to do the same. Just as our body’s slam together, gravity joining us on the floor. I twist her petite wrist until I am met with a gnarly cry of agony followed by the cracking of bone beneath her soft skin. The knife slides from her hands as her broken bones can no longer grip the handle tightly, a metaliac lullaby comes to an end as the weapon establishes a place to land. In preparation for a fight, I forcibly stand up before Lucy gets a chance. At once my feet quickly carry me to the cold steel, within moments I have gained the upper hand. “What? You think you have the balls to kill me? I’d love to see it.” the mockery within her words feeds my adrenaline.

The evil cynicism settles in my ears bringing me to life, I ram the blade directly through her chest. The satin button-up fades from beige to scarlet in a matter of seconds as do the conflicting feelings that built a home in my stomach. My eyes meet hers, lifeless yet still hold a sense of corrosiveness. My sight begins to grow blurry again, flowing with a river of tears, when the elevator dings. I can’t move, not only out of shock but a result of the defeat surrendering before the police can reach me. Strangely I am not greeted by law enforcement, uncannily it’s Samson. He appears to be distraught, reeling in exhaustion. His strong hold guides me to my feet, a kiss comforts my forehead, “Go Ramona, leave. Hurry, I can take care of this.” his words grant me the courage to run.

Time becoming an enemy, I don’t ponder, without further thought I am running down 67th Ave like a bat out of hell, my purse matching my strides, utilizing my hip as a trampoline. Making it to the bussingly intersection, desperation for a cab makes my head swirl in every direction, one halts, the street shadows are lit up with police sirens. I sigh with devastation, my heart begins to shatter as though it’s mimicking the destruction of fine china.

Samson.

Samson took the fall for a murder I committed.

Where do I go from here?