I got the feeling she didn’t like me.
When I said good morning to her, her only acknowledgment was a grunt. Basically, that was our entire communication for the day unless office work required our interaction. I chose not to let her attitude bother me. I had learned some time ago that how other people saw me was up to them. I had been taught by Mama and Papa and Big Ma to live up to a certain standard, and I tried my best to do that. The fact that I had done nothing to Justine, yet she chose to be abrupt with me, was irritating, but I let it be. I continued to say good morning and daily she continued to grunt acknowledgment until finally one day, while sitting at her desk, she said, “Don’t it bother you?”
I glanced up from my work. “What?”
“That you sitting up here and Louise sitting downstairs. That’s her desk.” There was a slight accent to her voice, but I didn’t know from where, and I wasn’t interested enough to find out.
“It wasn’t my idea,” I said. “Mr. Tomlinson moved me up here.”
“Yeah, that’s just it,” said Justine. “Mr. Tomlinson moved you up here. You ever wonder about that?” Before I could answer, she swiveled in her chair, turning her back to me, and returned to her work.
Her words were not lost on me. I did wonder about it and even more so when I was in the Tomlinson home and Rowland Tomlinson was there. The Tomlinsons had made space for me on the first floor, in Mr. Tomlinson’s den, where there was a sofa bed. Mrs. Tomlinson told me that the room was mine and that I should make myself comfortable there despite the fact that Mr. Tomlinson had a desk and files in the room. She said he seldom used the room and whatever work he might bring home, he could do in another room. Mr. Tomlinson had affably agreed with his wife, but said I would have to forgive him if he barged in from time to time to retrieve some of his files. I had thought nothing of it at the time, but already on more than one occasion after I had retired for the night, he had knocked softly on the door and said he needed to get a file. The first time he knocked, I had not yet pulled out the bed and was not undressed. The second time he knocked I was already in bed and the lights were out.
“Yes?” I said when I heard the knock. “Who is it?”
Without giving an answer, Mr. Tomlinson opened the door and stuck his head in. “Oh, I’m sorry, Cassie,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were already in bed. Apologies, but I need to get a file from my desk. I know exactly where it is. Won’t take but a minute.” He started into the darkened room.
I was startled by his intrusion. “Could you wait a minute please?” I sat up, pulling the covers close to my chest and switching on the lamp next to the bed.
“Oh, you didn’t have to turn on the light, Cassie,” he said pleasantly. “Light from the hall is sufficient. I know exactly where the file is, and like I said, this won’t take me but a minute.” He came farther into the room, leaving the door open. “Don’t mind me, Cassie. Go on back to sleep. I’ll be out of here in a jiffy.” He went directly to his desk and opened a lower drawer. I watched his every movement. I heard him flicking through files. His eyes were concentrated on the drawer, then he pulled out a folder and held it up with a victorious smile. “Got it!” he said, as if he had just scored a feat of some sort. He closed the drawer and headed for the door. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Cassie,” he said as he put his hand on the doorknob. “Good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Tomlinson,” I said.
“By the way, that’s a very pretty gown.” He smiled, then closed the door.
I sat for a moment listening to his footsteps going down the hall, then jumped up and hurried over to the door. There was no lock on it. A heavy leather chair was nearby. I pushed it over and jammed the top of it under the doorknob. After that, I had done the same every night before I went to bed. Rowland Tomlinson hadn’t come back for another file since that night, and I didn’t mention his coming to the den to Mrs. Tomlinson. I didn’t want to make something of what maybe could have been nothing, yet I watched myself around Rowland Tomlinson as I felt him watching me.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
After that first brief conversation initiated by Justine we went back to our daily acknowledgments of one another, my good mornings and her grunts. I was cordial, but I wasn’t going out of my way to make friends with her. It was now clear she didn’t like me, and the truth was I didn’t care much for her either. We mostly ignored each other until one day after Rowland Tomlinson had come from his office and stood next to me as he dictated a letter. When he left with the first draft of the letter, I glanced up and saw Justine watching me. I turned and went back to my typing. Seconds later I was startled by Justine, who had come over to my desk and was standing directly in front of it.
“You seeing anybody?” she abruptly asked.
I was totally not expecting such a question. “What?”
“You had a man, maybe Mr. Tomlinson wouldn’t be so interested in you.”
I was surprised that she had noticed Rowland Tomlinson’s attention toward me, but I said, “What are you talking about?”
“You ought to meet my brother.” She turned then and went back to her desk. I just sat there puzzled, wondering where all that had come from.
A few weeks later as the weekend neared, Justine approached me again. I was standing at a table close to the hallway, pouring a cup of coffee to take to Mr. Tomlinson. “I know you staying with the Tomlinsons,” she said, “and you working with that man too. Don’t he get on your nerves?”
I was not about to confide my feelings to Justine and get into an office mess. Mr. Tomlinson had done nothing to me except make me feel uneasy and I certainly didn’t want to say anything that could get back to him or Mrs. Tomlinson. “Justine, what are you talking about?” I said, putting the cup on a tray.
“Girl, you know what I’m talking about. I see him watching you. Like I said, you had a man and he knew you had a man, maybe he’d leave you alone.”
“He’s not bothering me, Justine.”
“Yeah, well, you just wait. I’ve seen men with that look before. You young and you pretty.” I was surprised by the compliment. That was the first nice thing Justine had said to me. She paused a moment. “You ought to meet my brother. He’s got a woman right now, but she’s not right for him.”
“And you think I would be?”
“You’re different.” Justine studied me as if to see my reaction to what she said. “He’s my baby brother, lot younger than me, more your age, just returned from the war not too long ago. Maybe somebody like you’d be good for him. I guarantee you’d like him.”
This was the second time Justine had mentioned her brother to me. She might have wanted me to meet him, but I certainly wasn’t interested in meeting her brother. If he was anything like Justine, I didn’t want anything to do with him. In fact, I didn’t want anything to do with anybody connected with Justine outside the office. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now, Justine,” I said, adding sugar and cream to the tray. “I’m just trying to make a living.”