J. McKenna: Secretary’s Punishment

She admired his forceful personality and could imagine herself being protected from a harsh world with Adam by her side. Sometimes, when faced with an annoying bill collector or petty bureaucrat, she secretly delighted having Adam to sic on them.

They soon became an exclusive couple and Emily already imagined what their house would look like and the names of their three children. At age twenty-six, she was sure her life was back on track.

Her mother announced she was going to marry her boyfriend, and Emily and Adam felt it was the perfect time to set up housekeeping together. Emily couldn’t wait to start her most important job—being a mother. Though they lived together for a year, Adam kept putting off any firm dates on an engagement, let alone a marriage. Emily had gone along, thinking he just needed more time. They were together and that was what mattered.

During this time, Adam’s personality began to change. His temper, which had only flared occasionally before they had moved in together, began to manifest itself more often. He’d yell over some minor transgression and throw something, scaring her. Almost immediately he would be contrite and promise it would never happen again. He had just been caught in a weak moment, he’d tell her.

“You know, you’ve been putting pressure on me to get married and I guess I just snapped,” he would say, neatly shifting some of the blame to Emily.

She forgave him, of course. They were soul mates, destined to be together.

She realized something was terribly awry with her vision of them as an ideal couple when she found a pair of woman’s panties in the glove box of Adam’s car. They certainly weren’t hers—not a bright red, frilly pair like that! She confronted him and he exploded.

“What are you doing snooping around my car?!”

It was his attempt, she realized, of turning the attention away from his transgression and back onto her. She wasn’t having any of it. She waved the panties in his face and demanded to know who they belonged to and what was he doing. For the first time, she was too angry to back down. The argument did not last long—Emily found herself on the receiving end of his fist and was knocked unconscious.

When she awoke, she was lying on her bed as a shamed and sorrowful Adam tended to her, telling her how sorry he was. “You just made me so angry,” he kept saying.

It was all too much. Her image of Adam as a man as good as her father had been was shattered in that moment. She didn’t argue with him or tell him it was all right—she just let him babble on about how it would never happen again while she made her quiet plans.

Emily was far too embarrassed to go home to her mother and stepfather’s house. Her eye had turned black by the next day when Adam went to work. “Put some makeup on that—I don’t want people thinking I’m a wife-beater or something,” he said, hurrying on when he saw her stunned expression. “We’ll work through this, honey, I know we will.”

When he was gone, Emily called the store and quit on the spot. She told them to send her final paycheck to her mother to hold for her. She phoned her mother and said she was breaking up with Adam and promised to visit her soon, but she had to get away for a while. She offered no other explanation.

Emily packed up her few meager belongings and left Kansas City behind. She headed east to St. Louis, where she planned to reinvent herself. It hadn’t been easy. She had lurched from one job to another, always managing to hang on and determined not to go home and face her old life. She had to stand on her own.

Now she felt this job might be her chance to gain a foothold and start making new friends. She couldn’t think about finding a new man yet—that part of her life was too painful. But at least she could prove to herself she was going to be all right. Life would go on.

So why did she feel so hollow about her decision? Emily couldn’t help wonder what happened to the men like her father, who were strong and compassionate and not at all abusive.

Emily shook her head as if to clear out the old bad memories. She ran her hands along the smooth dark wood of her desk, smelling the fresh polish. Opening a few drawers, she noted they were all empty. Supplies, she thought—I must get supplies.

She had fetched some paperclips, pens, paper and a stapler from the office supply cabinet and was trying to remember how to sign into the computer system when a man strode into her area. Emily sat bolt upright, not sure if this man was Mr. Caudry or a client. He was tall, with dark hair and a sharp nose. She pegged his age at somewhere in his late thirties—far too young to match the image Mrs. Dowd had created in her mind. His lips were pressed together as if in disappointment. His eyes seemed to pierce her to her soul and in that moment, Emily knew he must be her new boss.

“Mr., uh, Caudry?” she squeaked.

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Emily Robinson, your new administrative assistant. Mrs. Dowd—”

“I see,” he said dismissively, shaking his head. “She just keeps trying, doesn’t she?” His voice was calm and steady and it resonated deep within her. “You should know, I hate that politically correct term, ‘administrative assistant.’ There’s nothing wrong with being called a secretary.”

Emily felt a stab of fear and fought to overcome it. “Oh, no sir! That’ll be fine. I promise to serve you in whatever way you need, Mr. Caudry,” she began and stopped when he waved his hand, cutting her off.

“Yes, that’s what they all say, at first. Your predecessor lasted a month before I fired her. The one before that quit after two months.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at the cubicles. “I’ll bet they have a pool going on how long you last.”

“If you could tell me, please, what they did wrong, perhaps—”

“What they did wrong, Miss Robinson, is they did not apply themselves.” He paused. “It is Miss Robinson, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“I suppose it wasn’t all their fault,” he continued, “apparently they no longer teach English in our schools. They came in here with the attitude that poor grammar and spelling and generally sloppy work is sufficient.”

Emily’s mouth worked but no sound came out. Finally, she managed, “Well, I’ve always been good in English—”

“Yes, that’s what two of the last five secretaries told me. It didn’t seem to help.” He brushed past her and went into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Emily let out a breath. Her face was hot and she felt a sheen of sweat all over her body. She grabbed a tissue and blotted her face quickly, trying to regain her composure.

She didn’t understand why he seemed to have taken such a sudden dislike to her. Emily knew she looked good—she was fit and trim and people always told her she was attractive, with long light brown hair and a dazzling smile. So what was his problem?

The phone buzzed. She panicked for a moment when she realized it was Mr. Caudry. She found the right button and said, “Yes, Mr. Caudry?”

“Bring me a cup of coffee, please. No cream and just one-half packet of sugar.”

“Uhh, right away, Mr. Caudry.” She had almost questioned him. Secretaries didn’t get coffee anymore, did they? But it was her first day and frankly, she felt happy to fulfill his request in order to please him. Emily jumped up and went to the employee lounge and poured a cup of coffee into a Styrofoam cup. She carefully added exactly one-half packet of sugar and stirred. As she was about to leave, pleased with herself, another woman came in, a pretty blonde with her hair up in a bun. She caught sight of the cup and asked, “Are you the one?”

“Pardon me?”

“The new secretary? For Caustic Caudry?”