[Atlas]
My body betrayed my heart last night. I’m disgusted at how quickly I forgot about Angelica while in the arms of her little sister. Yet I cannot get Cordelia out of my mind. When I close my eyes, my thoughts wander to the way she smells, the way she tastes, or the feeling of her soft, smooth flesh underneath my fingertips.
I left work a little bit early today so I could talk to her about what had happened and clear the air between us. But as I pull up into the driveway I see a rental car. Who could be here in the middle of the day?
The house is quiet except for some soft sounds I hear coming from Cordelia’s room. Moving swiftly, I make it to her door just in time to find her in the arms of my brother, Clark. He was supposed to call me when he got here, but instead, he rushed right over to see her.
My vision goes red. “Clark!” I shout. “What are you doing in my wife’s room?”
“I am doing what you should have been doing,” Turning towards me Clark stands up straighter, “I’m taking care of her. Unlike you. You should talk to April. She isn’t doing her job. Cordelia was all alone with a high fever.”
He then goes back to spoon-feeding my wife. Her little pink lips as they drink down the broth make my blood boil as I remember her licking other, more intimate things.
Is that what she’s been doing with my brother too? Is that why he’s here?
“Clark, you need to leave,” I clench and unclench my fists as I watch the display between the two of them as they flaunt their relationship in front of me. “I need to speak with my wife…alone.”
I love my little brother, but if he doesn’t leave now, I am afraid of what I might do if he stays in this room much longer.
Clark looks towards Cordelia for reassurance. “Cordy, If you need me…” He squeezes her hand before turning from her side and walking from the room.
I listen for his footsteps to fade down the hall before turning towards the woman I married.
“Do you expect me to believe what was going on here a moment ago was innocent?” I confront Cordelia, “You might have succeeded had I not caught you.”
“Caught me?” She starts to cough, continuing her pretense of being ill. “Doing what? I don’t have the energy to argue right now when I don’t even know what we are arguing about.”
Her eyes begin to water as if I was the villain here. She’s the one ready to open her legs for any man who comes her way in a desperate attempt to have a baby. Did she think I’d stand by and watch it happen?
“Tell me, Cordelia, how long have you two been fucking behind my back?” I gulp, taking a step forward and placing my hands on the bed to steady my nerves.
Her eyes open wide with shock at my crass words. “Wait. What?”
“You know what, I don’t care!” I push away from the bed, unable to look at her any longer. “Just..don’t do it under my own roof, okay? Keep your affairs to yourself.”
“Keep my affairs to myself,” She shouts at my back, her tone mocking. “That’s rich!”
I turn around slowly. “What did you just say?”
“I said that for someone who spends his nights and weekends screwing his secretary, you sure have a lot of nerve coming in here and telling me what to do with my life!” Her face is red and covered in tears as she points at me screaming. “I’m not the whore here. You are!”
Her words feel like a slap across my face, making me sick to my stomach. I can’t believe she thinks I’m screwing around with Sydney or anyone else. I might not be interested in this marriage, but I’ve always been faithful.
Or at least I was until I betrayed Angelica’s memory with my wife.
“You can’t really think that I’ve…”
“I know you have, I've seen you two together!” She flops back on the bed. “You seem to have no problem throwing me aside whenever a pretty girl comes your way.”
Cordelia closes her eyes. “Just go away, Atlas. I’m done trying to convince you of my innocence when I’ve done nothing wrong, or at least, nothing worse than you have done to me.”
“You know what, fine,” I give up. I can see there is no talking sense to her. “Do whatever you want, I can clearly see that you don’t give a damn.”
Slamming the door behind me, I walk downstairs.
This is stupid. How can she think that I’m having an affair with Sydney of all people? That girl is pure innocence, not to mention screwing around with her would be dangerous to our family and our reputation. She’s just a summer intern, I was asked to look after her at the behest of an important client, Bryant Textiles.
Cordelia must think I’m the worst kind of man to think I’d be capable of something like that.
Heading outside it only takes me a few minutes to find April. She has a basket of carrots on the ground next to her as she reaches into the soil to grab another. As soon as she sees me walking her way she stands up and smiles. “Young Master, you’re home early! I’ll…”
“Why didn’t you take care of Cordelia?” I cut her off. “She needed help and I had to come home and find my brother doing your job. Did she neglect to ask you for help?”
“Well no, Sir,” she answers honestly. “But I was busy with the laundry and so I told her she needed to get her own food. I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”
This woman helped raise me from the time I was a small child. She has always been such a competent and caring employee. But now I am wondering if she has been treating Cordelia like this the whole time and how I didn’t notice it before.
“So, if I am hearing you correctly, she asked you for help and you denied her your services,” I pause watching her expression as she realizes my tone has changed. “Remind me again why it is that we pay you. Is it time for us to find someone to replace you?”
She blanches, her face growing very pale as she answers, “But Sir, I’ve worked in this house for thirty years. She’s just some silly girl that you married for business. She isn’t worth the time.”
“She is my wife,” I remind her, giving her a cold, hard glare. “And the lady of this house. As such she deserves respect, as much respect as any other member of my family. Am I making myself clear?”
April’s face falls. I think she was expecting me to take her side. No matter how I might feel about Cordelia, it is not okay for the staff to treat her like an outcast.
“Yes, Sir,” she looks down to hide a tear, folding her arms behind her back. “If you’ll excuse me.”
April grabs the basket of carrots and rushes away, almost bumping into Clark as he comes outside to talk. “So…is now a good time to talk about what happened a few minutes ago?” he begins.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble, still upset about the idea of his hands all over her body. “I don’t need to know the details.”
“The details,” his face is puzzled, until his eyes open wide in realization. “Look, brother, I don’t know what crazy idea you have in your mind right now, but I did try to let you know that your wife was sick. I called, I texted, and I even tried to email you. Didn’t you get any of my messages?”
Pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket, I noticed that I had neglected to check it. Sydney had been holding it for me and when she handed it back, she didn’t say anything about missed calls or messages. Flipping through my phone I don’t see anything right away, but when I double check my phone record, I can see that he called 7 times.
But each time it rang, the call was canceled before he could leave a message. His text messages had been erased as well.
I feel like such a jerk. I accused my brother of behaving badly without pausing long enough to hear him out. When I explained what had happened, Clark’s forgiving smile beamed as he clapped me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Hey, let’s start over, okay? You tell me about your day, and I tell you about the last four years…”
____
Clark and I stayed up past midnight catching up. Unfortunately, a late night made it hard for me to get up the next morning. So by the time I made it to the office, I was already exhausted before the day even began.
My first order of business is clearing up some expectations with my new secretary.
“Hi, Boss,” she chirps as she comes into my office holding a tall cup of coffee which she placed down in front of me. She’s always so cheerful and bright, like a small yellow bird.
“So Sydney, when I asked you to hold my phone yesterday,” I start, “I realize I didn’t clarify with you what I expected from you as my secretary.”
“Oh, did I do something wrong?” Her eyes are wide with surprise and worry.
“Why did you cancel all of my calls?” I ask her directly, using as few words as possible. “You could have taken my messages or let it go into voicemail.”
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, Sir,” she blinks her hazel eyes, her long lashes making her look even more innocent. “You didn’t say and I didn’t want to bug you and I figured that if it were important enough they would call you back and…”
“Those calls were important, which is why they called me back seven times.” I explain, “And the messages you erased….”
“They were old. So I cleared them off your phone to make more room,” she explains brightly even though a tear is rolling down her cheek.
I sometimes forget how young she is. The same age as my wife, so barely more than a child.
“Next time,” I speak slowly and clearly so that she does not misinterpret my words. “When I hand you my phone, just let the calls go to voicemail. Also, do not erase anything.”
“I understand,” she sobs, “I’m sorry. I was only trying to be helpful.”
“Mistakes happen,” I hand her a box of tissues, feeling a bit like a beast for making her cry, “But I need you to ask questions first before you act impulsively.”
“I won’t do that again, Sir,” she gives a small smile as she gently blots away her tears. “Please let me do something to make it up to you.”
I look around my office and see an old suitcase I had packed a while ago when I had considered moving into the office to get away from Cordelia. But now I think she needs my attention more than ever to keep her out of trouble.
“Here,” I hand her the suitcase. “Can you get someone to take this back to my house? I don’t need it here anymore.”
“Sure thing, Boss,” she salutes taking it from me with a smile. “I will not disappoint you.”
With my suitcase in hand, she leaves my office, gently closing the door.
[Cordelia] I was surprised this morning by breakfast in bed and a cheery smile. “Good morning, Madam,” April is in her full maid uniform today, including her nice dress and apron, even her hair styled in a neat little bun. “If it pleases you I have brought you breakfast.” If it pleases me? Something isn’t quite right about her today. “Th…ank you,” I say hesitantly. “Are we expecting company?” Maybe that is why she is dressed so fine and practicing her manners. “A foreign dignitary, perhaps? The President?” “No, Madam. It is just the two of us today.” A large smile stretches across her face as she glances out the window into the garden. “It is a beautiful day. I hear it is good to get a little exercise as you recover from being ill. When you are done with breakfast, might I suggest a walk in the garden?” “I’m not sure it is a good idea,” I say honestly. Even though I am feeling so much better with more energy, there is something about April’s behavior that is making m
[Atlas] Cordelia pushes past us as she rushes up the stairs. A few seconds later I hear the sound of her door slamming. I could tell that Sydney’s presence was causing her pain. Maybe I should go upstairs and apologize but I was feeling petty after our argument this morning. Sydney coughs. For a moment I had forgotten the guest I invited over that I hadn’t meant to invite over. “I’m sorry you had to see that. My wife and I…” how do I phrase this without giving too much away. “she can be a bit…well dramatic.” I settle on a word. It doesn’t feel fair, but it also fits. Sydney shrugs as if none of it matters. “Um…where should I put this,” she indicates my oversized suitcase. I ask her to set it down near the stairs and I notice that she has a slight limp. Cordelia must have pushed her down harder than I thought. “Hey, wait,” I stop her before she can reach the stairs. Taking the suitcase from her, I bring over a nearby chair and instruct her to sit while I take the suitcase an
[Cordelia–earlier this evening] He doesn’t believe me. He can’t even see me. And he thinks this is all my fault. Watching Atlas speaking with his secretary in hushed tones as turns his back on me reminds me of the scene from the other day in the cafe. All the small, tender touches between them, are so different from how he treats me. Even right now, his hand is on the small of her back protectively as he pulls the suitcase across the threshold. I watch the scene unfold, helpless to do anything. Here I am again, the fool, watching him love another like a stranger in my own relationship. Only now he is bringing her into our home, flaunting his relationship right under my nose. My world is spinning. With blurry eyes I rush past them on the stairs, heading to my room. I slam the door behind me and land with a crash on my bed. The mumble of their voices in the entryway below just confirms what I already knew. “He doesn’t love me and he never will,” I mumble into my pillow. “Fo
[Atlas] A letter from Cordelia’s lawyer arrived two days later requesting that I schedule a day for us to meet and go over the terms of our divorce. When she left that stormy night, I never thought she’d seriously go through with it. I expected her to come crawling back the next day, wet and resigned. She never learned how to take care of herself alone. She moved from her parents' house directly into mine. She’s never had to do anything for herself. When her lawyer’s aide dropped this letter off at my office he was swift and kind. It has all been handled in such a mature and professional manner I find myself glowing in pride for how much Cordelia has grown. I guess she grew up while I wasn’t watching. Eventually, I’m going to need to call her lawyer. Set up an appointment to speak with Cordelia. Maybe even convince her to not go through with this divorce. But not today. Today I am finally finalizing the deal with Bryant Textiles. The letter has been on my desk for a week
[Cordelia] After I hung up with my lawyer, I wasn’t sure where I should go. I couldn’t go to my parents, they would just send me straight back here to “fix” things. I didn’t really have any friends…my whole adult life has been tied up in being the wife of Atlas Steele. When I got married at the age of 20, I dropped out of school. The only person who had ever made any effort to stay connected was my old college roommate Tilly. I almost didn’t call her, I was worried that my troubles would just be a burden, but when she answered, she was overjoyed to hear from me and immediately invited me to meet her for drinks and catch up. We hit it off immediately and it was like we had never been separated. When I told her about my marriage and the disaster it had become, she offered me her spare room. She didn’t want rent or anything for it. The only price she asked of me was to “use this place to heal–and start designing again!” Because Tilly had grown up to become Mathilda Madison, de
[Cordelia] “I’m surprised to see you here.” Sydney’s reflection takes up most of the mirror. Her face is twisted into a small, mysterious smile. She is holding a full glass of champagne in her finely manicured hands as she circles me. Everything about her glows–her hair, her gown, the points on her stiletto shoes. “Do you like my outfit?” she takes a sip of her champagne before adding “Atlas bought it for me. I didn’t need him to, of course, but he does like to spoil me.” “Um hmm,” I murmur, “Excuse me, I…” She puts her empty hand down on the counter, blocking me in. “He’s very generous,” she takes a moment to gently caress the jade necklace that graces her neck like the kisses of a lover, “but I’m sure you already know that.” The way she hits that last word, like an accusation, tells me that she knows it isn’t true. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, she digs deeper. “You should have seen him this week. I was so proud of him. We have been working late nights all year. He looked s
[Sydney–Earlier that Evening] “What about this one?” I twirl in front of a mirror. Atlas is standing to the side, speaking with the shop attendant. He looks up from his phone briefly, giving a weak thumbs up. Sighing, I go back into the dressing room, shaking my head at his inattentiveness. To be fair he didn’t ask to be here, but after his last-minute invitation, I guilted him into giving me a ride. Making a decision, I picked the dress that got the most reaction from Atlas, a gold lame ensemble dripping with crystals and gold sequins. As I go up to the counter to pay, I realize I must have forgotten my credit card at home. “Oh shoot,” I swear, turning to the shopkeeper. “Can you just put this on hold for me? Last name, Bryant.” “What’s wrong,” hearing my distress Atlas puts down his phone. “Don’t you need that dress for tonight?” “I forgot my card at the office,” I sigh, showing him the inside of my empty wallet. “Not a problem,” he pulls a platinum card from his inside co
[Cordelia] When choosing what to wear this morning, I wanted something that could make me feel confident and strong. I ended up wearing large sunglasses and a designer dress–my armor to hide the fact that I had spent the night crying and I still feel sick to my stomach with anger and sadness. Atlas is ready and waiting at the office when I arrive, looking as freshly pressed as always. Sydney is standing just behind him, her head down, holding a briefcase and her coat. She is also immaculately dressed, her pink Chanel suit a perfect complement to his darker attire. Both sets of lawyers stand framing a large oval table. On that table are several stacks of paper arranged in order of what needs to be signed and by whom. Divorce is never simple, but a divorce with billions of dollars on the line is always a mess requiring many hands. Our marriage was more than just a marriage, it was a contract that combined our family fortunes and businesses. Now all of that hard work of combin