Meeting Mr. Locheart
“Now tell me, who are you?”
He squinted, seeming more intoxicated than before.
Excuse me? I don’t understand.
“What makes you tick?”
My nails clink against his good scotch glass. Mediocre whiskey.
I don’t have an elevator pitch for my personality. You’ll have to get more creative than this.
Finally, the first time this evening I smile with teeth.
“So you’re a bitch.”
“Let’s be clear: I don’t care a lick about you and your husband. I only cared to get you in here so I could look at you up close.”
We’re clear on that. Now tell me; what are your children’s names? I heard you had daughters my age.
“You know, you don’t seem worth the trouble. You ought to present yourself better; wear your hair down. But who knows, I still don’t know what you look like naked.”
Both thumbs press against the watered down crystal. My nails could snap off.
Didn’t one of them graduate from Texas A&M? What a great school.
“You wouldn’t be shrugging me off if I were 30 years younger. Once your youth goes, you’ll be singing to a different tune.”
I’m a second soprano if you want to get technical. Terrible at singing really, arguably tone deaf.
“You work all day with your hair pulled up like that? Don’t you work in an office? One of my companies could use an executive assistant.”
I would never, under any circumstances, make a good executive assistant.
If you so much as touched a strand of my hair I would’ve cut it all off myself.
It’s easy for you to acknowledge my beauty while insulting my appearance.
You claim my resistance to your terrible treatment as me being stuck up.
But we both know the reality is that, our differences are much more permanent than something as flimsy and temporary as age.
The reality is that I’m better than you.
In every way.
I don’t bother to conceal that I know this fact. I don’t mind that you’re threatened.
My mind is free to create and explore while yours is incarcerated in worldly obsessions and predatory pursuits.
I’m made of something pure. A predator like you could not even fathom it.
No matter how much you try to penetrate my mind and body, you will never get to experience a second of relief from yourself.
I rise to leave and his Scotch glass shatters.
I smile before I apologize.