Of love and lies

Alec

"You wanted to see me?" Kamara asked, still standing at the door unsure whether to enter or not.

"Yes, come in," I said, gesturing at the chair which she awkwardly walked towards.

It had been two weeks of us completely neglecting what had happened during one of my ... ventures to the void.

Kamara did a good job of pretending that nothing happened and I was more than happy to play along. All of that was going rather well until I saw her coming out of the unopened wing the day before. The same unopened wing that I found her drunk of her face in that night of the opening.

"Kamara, we have some rules and those rules need to be followed," I said, failing to meet her eyes as I perused my documents.

Even without looking up at her, I could feel the tension growing thicker and her temper rising slowly.

"Have I done something wrong?" She asked through a clenched jaw which I took as improper attitude towards authority in an office setting.

Strike two.

"The West hallway is unopened for a reason, hence why it is out of bounds for all employees that are under my authority and you are well aware of this. So, would you care to explain why I saw you sneaking out of the wing yesterday around noon?" I asked in a nonchalant tone that didn't fool her for a second.

She was very aware of the severity of the matter as I hadn't tried to humour her in anyway and went straight to the point.

"I don't have to explain anything to you. You owe me that. But if you must know, I happen to enjoy admiring the artwork in the West wing. In my opinion, it's the best artwork in the whole gallery. Who is the artist? I think that whoever they are needs to have an appreciation plaque or something because they are a gift to the earth," She added with a smile that reached her big, brown eyes.

She's telling the truth. She just goes there to look at the art.

Foolish girl.

I don't pay her to waste her time looking at artwork that I already own.

Oh Alec, you used to waste days looking at those very same paintings, a voice says at the back of my mind.

"I owe you nothing," I say bluntly as I close the file and look up at her.

She thinks that she can talk to me like I am someone she can bend to her will when in reality she should be thanking me for pulling her out of her dead end life in America to come and be a part of something to actually give her life meaning. If she thinks for a second that I am going to thank her for anything, she is in for a huge disappointment. She should be thankful that she still has her job.

"You know what? I'm sick of you being such an asshole to me for absolutely no reason. I do my job pretty damn well. I bring in new artists every other day and yet you still talk down to me like I'm some vapid imbecile. I know that you're clearing going through some weird stuff and I know what pain does to a person but that doesn't give you a right to treat people like they don't matter. I want to help you, not because you deserve it but because I deserve to be a good person. However, if you keep treating me like this, you're going to lose one of the few people who actually want to help you," She ranted with her cheeks reddening with frustration after every word.

Her fists were clenched and almost came down on the table before she stopped herself. She had been looking at the floor the whole time she spoke. When she looked up at me I saw tears streaming down her face.

For the first time since I could remember, I was dumbfounded.

I couldn't speak.

No sarcastic or rude comment to make.

No vicious insult to spit out.

No malicious order to demand.

Nothing.

I just sat there looking at her as she wiped the tears from her face and gathered her composure. Her eyes reddened a little and she had a few tear stains on her satin blouse. She got up and started making her way to the door.

I wanted to speak. Say something horrible.

Tell her you're cutting her pay for the time wasted in the unopened wing.

Tell her you're going to write her off for speaking back you and undermining your authority.

Tell her you'll fire her if she ever speaks to you like that again.

Tell her anything.

She stopped at the door and turned her head slightly in my direction as if waiting for me to say something and boy, did I want to. The silence became deafening in a split second and neither of us could take it, so she walked out and closed the door behind her.