Looking concerned, he says, “We’d like to settle this without legal action.”
“I would rather it not go that far, either,” I tell him. “I just want to be able to come into work without having to deal with a vindictive boss.”
Standing up, he says. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please know we’re on your side here.”
I follow his lead and get up. “I appreciate your help, Armie. I’m not a litigious person by nature. I just want to be able to come to work in peace.”
“I hope that’s the outcome.” Offering his hand again, he says, “Let me know if Constance gives you any more trouble. We all need to keep records in case this goes further.”
As I walk out of Armie Bader’s office, I can’t help but wonder how many women have gone through similar situations. I imagine it’s been much harder on them as they have historically been the primary recipient of sexual misconduct. And up until recent years, their claims have by and large been swept under the rug.
I can’t help but feel that as a man I should just suck it up and take it. But I also want this kind of abuse to end for everyone. No one should have to go to their job and feel like they’re working for the enemy.
As I walk out the door in the direction of the parking lot, my phone rings. When I see who it is, I merely turn it off and keep going.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FINLEY
Thomas kissed me last night.I roll over in bed and stretch like a lazy cat in a sunbeam. It has been two years since I’ve been kissed by a man.Two years.And trust me when I say that was nowhere near the sheer bliss of being kissed by Thomas. In fact, no kiss I’ve ever experienced can even touch it.
I’m not a person who believes in fate. Of course, that might be because I’ve had too much else on my plate. Namely, autism. For example, a neurotypical might have four tabs open in their brain at one time, but an atypical, like myself, probably has closer to fifty. And each one of those can have multiple subtabs. As such, my head is a very busy place that doesn’t always allow pontification on peripheral topics. Like fate.
I live in a world where I’m considered an outsider because my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. Which makes me wonder why that same world would care about my destiny.
My reasoning may be flawed, and it may sound like victim mentality, but walk a mile in my shoes before you judge. In my opinion, if fate exists then it has been out to get me from thestart. It’s only because of my strong resolve and belief that I’m a stellar person that I’ve come as far as I have.
Having said that, what if it’s finally my turn for the Universe to be on my side? What are the chances Thomas left a fancy hospital in New York City to move to Elk Lake, Wisconsin? What are the chances I decided to come here myself? And while I’m at it, what are the odds he would be sent to me to have his picture taken? Which of course, I totally bungled, but that only meant we got to see each other more.
A lot of random occurrences had to take place for us to have spent the kind of time together that would lead to us kissing. A thoroughly dreamy, toe-curling, spine-tingling smooch that I want to experience every day, a dozen times a day, until I’m a hundred.
Leaning over, I pick up the phone and call my mom. As soon as I hear her voice, I ask, “How’s Bernadette?”
“She laid an egg in the sink yesterday,” my mom tells me proudly.
“Ah, so she was eggbound.”
“Looks like it.”
I hear squawking in the background. “Are you in the henhouse?”
“No, I’m in the kitchen.”
“Do you have someone else in the sink?”
“Bernie again.” My mom explains, “She really likes it.”
“So, you’re giving her daily baths now?” As if I needed any other reason to think my mom might not be normal.
“What else do I have going on?” Before I can answer, she tells me, “Your father is building the goats a teeter totter.”
“What’s that, now?” I snuggle under my down comforter to await what I am sure will be an astounding answer.
“He saw it on the TikTok,” she tells me.
“Dad has TikTok?”What is going on with my parents?
“Jim, down at the feed store, showed it to him. The two of them spent three hours taking their pictures with those goofy filters. Dad is hooked.”
