Boston's Man-Eater

LII

I didn't bother marveling at the light granite countertops—the vast mirrors that reflected an enormous shower booth with several heads submerged into the walls.

It was beautiful though—a white and golden touch.

Having found a brand new toothbrush in one of the drawers, I quickly brushed my teeth with my eyes on the mirror.

As anticipated, or even a little bit better than expected, I just looked hideous—Hideous, withered, reddened, with defeat scribbled all over my face.

My back was slouched from the weight of my pending choice, but I looked away, deciding to have a steaming hot bath.

I was walking down the second flight of stairs when I noticed that there were more maids tidying up the immaculate rooms.

Asking for the way to the dining room, I bumped into Simon and he wore a relaxed smile.

Was he aware of what had happened?

Finally, the dining room. It had a large chandelier, an ivory centerpiece alighting from the sun. The stone walls adorned pictures of people I couldn't recognize. 

Tess was sitting at one end of the glossy table as she read the Boston Independent. Marisol and Ayanda were nestled across each other.

"Welcome, Kyle," Tess put the paper to the side, signalling one of the maids to close the door.

It was gut-wrenching to watch the two women, with the visuals of harassment slipping into my mind.

"Keith..." Marisol announced, but Tess cleared her throat pointedly.

"Kyle, we want to apologize for our behavior last night. We had the purest intentions when we came over to give you your medication since you seemed to have a fall out. We didn't know that it would've hurt your feelings like that, because I thought men were less sensitive."

"Marisol!" Tess snapped, shooting her a venomous glared.

"What she meant to say is, we thought you were just having a panic attack, but we've come to realize the faults of our actions. We're sorry, Kyle," Ayanda interjected.

I obviously didn't buy it.

Tess probably forced them to apologize.

I could almost hear the protest in Marisol, not believing a single word she had said.

I didn't want to answer, and they probably noticed that too, because they both stood up, leaving Tess and I alone.

"You didn't say who is visiting me."

"A friend."

"Friend?" I repeated, and she sighed.

"Yes. Your boss had called your phone to check up on you, but you were asleep so he said he'd call later."

"Okay..."

An awkward silence fell between us.

And her dining room was the kind that mimics the sound of everything, the kind that you'll only find Kings and Queens dining in. Big enough to be out of earshot—the pass-the-salt yelling kind.

She stared at me, but I didn't dare to look away, even when Florence timidly entered.

"Tess—"

"Kyle," Tess corrected, and Florence turned to me.

"Kyle, someone is here to see you."

She quickly left the room and I faced Tess who was up in her robe, the rolled up newspaper in hand.