I'm Meant To Hate You

29

"Thank you for meeting with me Miss Lincoln, I look forward to working with you in the future." I shook the lavishly dressed woman's hand in front of me, her blonde wisps of hair held back in a pony tail as they cascaded down the back of her red dress. She was accompanied by a young man dressed in a suit, most likely her assistant. The waves of dominance she was emitting were nearly knocking him out of his seat, the pen in his hand very slightly shaking out of anxiety. I felt bad for him, but there was nothing I could do. He applied for the job, the only way he was going to get more confidence was by sticking to it.

"I'll get my assistant to send you my diary. I'll be seeing you soon." She said, nodding at me and then Emily as she left the room. The young man quickly smiled at us before hurrying after his boss. I closed the door behind him, closing the blinds before turning back to Emily. Her gaze fell to the floor as she realised what was happening, her hands nervously rubbing against her knees.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice monotone. I wasn't sure how to approach the matter. She had moved out of my grasp on multiple occasions, and I wasn't sure whether it was me or her that had the problem. I don't recall doing anything wrong, so her behaviour was a mystery to me. One that I wished Agatha Christie had written, just without all of the murders of course. I took a particular interest in mysteries, the need to solve the puzzle. The incapability that flowed through my veins when I couldn't figure it out. She was difficult to figure out. She was an actress, it was her means to know how to control her emotions and expressions. I just never realised that they would be directed at me, that it would be used against me.

"Nothing." She said softly, her hands joining on her lap. Her eyes still casted to the floor, as if it pained her to look at me.

I crouched down in front of her, my hands pulling her fidgeting hands apart as I looked up at her. "Emily." I whispered out, her gaze slowly meeting mine. "Please. Talk to me." I begged. I could maybe accept the fact that she didn't want me to be touchy with her, but her not explaining why is what was nagging at my conscience. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe not. The definition of communication was currently being challenged by her incessant need to not mutter any useful words regarding the tension between us.

"I don't want to talk, Kiana. I don't want to talk to anyone, I certainly don't want to talk to you. Whatever it is that I'm feeling, I don't want it to be the topic of conversation. Let it go." She muttered, pushing my hands away from her and standing, looking down at me slightly before pulling the door open and leaving me kneeling.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled under my breath as I too walked out of the room, trying to grasp onto what the situation actually was between Emily and I.

"Hey sugarplum, me and Laurel are going to visit Jerry and Shannon tomorrow and he asked me to bring you and Emily along. Want to go for a little break? We were thinking about going for Christmas but we can do that too. Tomorrow sounds more appropriate considering everything." Mel spoke as she exited the elevator and walked with me to my office. I looked over Emily with a frown as we walked past her desk, Mel stopping to talk to her as I carried on walking through my office door and slouching down in my chair.

"Emily's coming, so I guess it's just you now. So what do you say?" She asked, folding her arms as she stood in front of my desk, becoming impatient by my lack of words.

"Sure." I sighed, grabbing my phone and calling Richard to see if he had anyone that could stand in whilst I was on leave.

"Kiana? How are you darling?" His happy voice echoed through the phone. My eyes took ahold of t as she stood there studying me. I rose an eyebrow in question but she dismissed me and walked out.

"Good, good. How are you?" I hadn't spoken to him. It's not as if I hadn't heard from him, but I haven't had a proper conversation with him for longer than I imagined I would be able to go without one.

"Oh, I'm as good as I've ever been. You could have came down to talk to me you know, but regardless, is there something you need?"

"I was wondering if you knew anyone that could take over for a few days."

"Oh, darling, you could have just asked me. I'll run the old ship for a bit. I've missed it." He said, and after a few more pleasantries, he was gone. Leaving me to the overwhelming silence that allowed my mind to wander to places it shouldn't.

I dragged myself up from my chair, willing myself to go home. I needed to pack a bag. Despite my sour mood, I couldn't help but feel excited about getting away from here for a while. Jerry had a manor in Scotland, one that I adored every time I had visited when I was younger. He always took me out with him when he go lost in gardening, or when he wanted to catch a break from Shannon. 'It's our secret' he used to say to twelve year old me, hugging me against him as we sat out at the lake whilst eating coconut snowballs.

I think somewhere deep inside of him, he saw me as a daughter, and he wanted to give me the opportunity to understand what a father is like. What a real dad is supposed to be like. I also think he liked the idea of having that bond with me, he and Shannon had tried on multiple occasions to conceive but they were unable to.

Sometimes I wonder whether there is something about me that screams I have issues with my father, because I seem to have a thing for getting father figures out of people who aren't related to me. Not that I'm complaining, it's nice to get a grasp of what it's like. To understand that a daughter is a form of her dad's undying love. My father's love did die. And maybe it came alive in other forms, or more-so through other people.

"You okay?" Laurel spoke up from the sofa as I stood at the front door. I hadn't realised I had made it back. I hadn't actually realised that I had even left the office.

"Yeah. Just need to go and pack some stuff." I muttered, walking past her curios eyes and shutting my bedroom door, slamming my bathroom door open to discard of my clothes and rinse off the ugly feelings of the day. The cold water pounded down on me, making me come back to life at the sheer force of it and the harsh temperature.

This time away should give me time to rejuvenate. Relax. And hopefully fix whatever it is that's going on with Emily. Because I couldn't carry on without an explanation. Surely she couldn't treat me like this without giving me a reason.

If she gave me a reason, then I might have been able or willing to accept why she was acting the way she is and I could have given her space. But because she hasn't elaborated, I don't know if space is actually the thing she wants, or if she's just using it as an excuse not to tell me what's going on. But either way, I have every intention of finding out where I went wrong. I can only assume that it was me that did something, or else she wouldn't be treating me like I've betrayed her.