"The Gorge Road" Chapter 4

4. Intimidation

     “Daniel’s a little blunt,” I said to Richard and Angela privately, after the lesson. “But I don’t think it sticks out unless you’re really looking for it.”

We sat together in the library, the two of them on the sofa, facing me over the coffee table. Daniel had excused himself to lie down in his room after the (rather productive) session, but not before offering me a cup of tea, which I sipped in between talking points with the parents.

I wanted the job, but I had a few reservations. 

“Compared to others his age,” I continued, “I’d say his social development is more or less where it needs to be. But he’s very straightforward in a way that’s sometimes disarming. And, there’s some trust issues stemming from the fact that most of his companionship - outside of family - is paid to be here.”

“Good to know,” Richard said. “Maybe you’ll be able to teach him a little more tact.”

“I can certainly try. You might’ve seen that my college advisor recommended me into the Master’s program for psych,” I said, indicating the CV I’d handed over a few moments prior. “But I’m not a licensed child psychologist. Then again, Daniel’s not a child -- mentally or physically.”

“Of course,” Angela said. “But he’s our child.”

“Which is why we need an outside opinion,” Richard said. “And we consider yours to be professional, even if you’re not a doctor.”

“Well, he seems to like spending time with me, and I think there’s a lot I could teach him,” I mused. “Artistically, and socially. But I can’t promise that this will help him to, say, get a job. Not directly, anyway. But I do I think working on some of those social muscles with me could be really beneficial for him.”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt,” Angela countered. “He could stand to be a little more well-rounded.” She stood and smoothed her clothes. 

“I think I’ll go check on him, see how his shoulder is feeling, and find Denise. If you’re going to continue working here – which we hope you will – then you’ll need to meet her.” She smiled, and gave Richard a look that said ‘I’ll let you take it from here.’

“Is Denise a relative?” I asked, as Angela stepped out.

“She works for us,” Richard replied succinctly. 

 “I’m sure you can tell that we’re ready to offer you the position,” he continued. “But I’m interested to hear what else you were able to discern from your test.”

“Well, a lot of it will likely just verify what you already knew,” I said. “Daniel has a very analytical mind, which disposes itself to logic fairly well. This explains his affinity for the sciences. However, left to his own devices – as in, when he doesn’t have to work toward something – he’s more of a left-brained creative type. And prone to social interaction, even if he doesn’t recognize all the rules.”

“I can respect that,” Richard grinned, rubbing his silver goatee. “I got where I am today by making up the rules as I went along, and not by adhering to old ones.”

A bit arrogant, yes. But keep the disapproval off your face. You need this.

The problem is that you’ve seen his type before, haven’t you? And now you’re alone with him.

Stop. Stop that. Grow up.

“At the party, you mentioned that Daniel would need some coping mechanisms,” I pointed out. “You said you wanted me to provide him with a different set of tools to help him manage his condition. I’ll do my best, but I won’t be offended if you decide you need a young-adult psychologist, not an art therapist.”

“I feel confident that you’re exactly what we need,” Richard reassured me.

“Thank you.” I could feel myself blushing; whether from his flattery or the weight of his eyes on me, I wasn’t sure.

Cold and blue and heavy on you, like the suit.

Grow a spine. You’re past that. Richard is not him.

“To that end,” I stammered. “I just… I don’t know or understand much about Daniel’s condition –”

“Nor do you need to.” He flashed his matinee-idol smile.

The thought occurred to me that Richard was more flirtatious with his wife out of the room.

Or he’s very nicely telling you that Daniel’s medical history is not your business.

“I understand,” I conceded. “But I need to know if I’m on any sort of timeline. Does Daniel have plans to – for example – move out? Or go to college, or get a job in the next six or twelve months? Do you have any time-sensitive goals for his development that I’ll be expected to help him meet?”

Richard shook his head and chuckled again. 

“No, nothing that immediate. Honestly, I think you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he reached over the coffee table and squeezed my knee. I didn’t think I imagined his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than what was appropriate. My heart crawled up into my throat, even as he withdrew and stood to stretch.

He’s just trying to get you to chill out.

Is he? At his age, I’m sure he knows the effect he has on people. He has no reason to think you’re immune.

“I’m sorry if I’m dissecting the situation too much,” I managed. “I’m still in job-interview mode. And I want to prepare Daniel for what comes next, rather than just pop-psychoanalyzing his feelings.”

“And I respect that,” Richard said, standing over me and crossing his arms. “Daniel has several family business duties that he’ll assume when the time is right. Oversight of some of our portfolios, research, things like that. But nothing you need to worry about right now. I think spending time with you will teach him to keep... certain things under control.” 

At this, Richard bent toward me. His hand drifted over to caress my shoulder.

My throat dried out; the fire seemed to crackle more hungrily behind us. I stood with a jerk, and Richard’s hand dropped from my body.

 “Well, for what it’s worth,” I said carefully. “He seems to have both his condition and his behavior under control. For now.” I avoided Richard’s eyes and reached for my satchel. “I can get you a copy of my references, my driver’s license --”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he smiled. “The job is yours if you want it. We’ll pay you on a weekly basis, and throw in a little extra to make up for the cost of gas and mileage on your car. You’re also welcome to anything here in the house: food in the kitchen, supplies -- ”

“You’re even welcome to stay a night or two if weather conditions get poor.” Angela had stepped back through the parlor doors with another woman following her. “The roads out here are difficult to maintain in the snow, and I don’t know how much that little old Honda in the driveway can take.” She smiled good-naturedly.

“That’s very generous, thank you,” I sighed, hardly daring to believe my good luck, but more than a little relieved to have other people back in the room. “I was actually just thinking about that this morning –”

“Yeah, that car of yours is a piece of shit.”

I turned to face the new woman who had spoken. She had short-cropped dark hair that looked untidy and a bit greasy, and did nothing to flatter a swarthy face. She wore a stained grey t-shirt and faded blue sweatpants.

Maybe she’s like a cleaning lady, and she’s wearing old clothes to work in.

“You must be Denise,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Alex.”

“Yeah, I heard.” She squeezed my hand awkwardly.

“Alex is going to work here as Daniel’s tutor and therapist,” Angela said smoothly. “Alex, Denise works here as… a sort of caretaker for the house.”

“And personal assistant,” Denise added, looking annoyed.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I forced a smile across my face. “Should I talk to you about signing a contract, or filling out a W-2?”

Denise stared at me blankly. “A what?”

Some personal assistant.

“We can work out employment paperwork on your next visit,” Richard filled in. “How about –” he turned to Angela and shrugged – “Wednesday? Does that work for you?”

 

***

 

Twilight was settling over the forest as I drove back toward the interstate. My time inside the manor had been longer than I’d realized. 

You’ll have to check out Vista House on another day. You need to get home and work up some lesson plans anyway.

Holy shit, I actually managed to land a private tutoring and therapy gig. This is awesome.

So why does your stomach feel weird?

I punched on the car stereo and scanned for public radio, hoping for some classical music to serve as background noise while I worked through the thoughts rolling around in my brain.

Richard and Angela, much like the house they lived in, were welcoming but intimidating at the same time. But, that was really no change from the people I’d met at Deon’s office party on Saturday. What mattered was that they were serious – but not micromanaging – about my potential as an employee.

I couldn’t decide if Richard’s behavior toward me was different, or all in my head. Denise’s rudeness, though, was not imagined. I was sure of it. She seemed so out of place in the elegant house, with her elegant employers. I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly refined, but it was almost as if I belonged there more than she did. Perhaps she sensed this, and resented me for it.

She’s like the moss you thought you saw on the archway, came the unbidden thought. Growing there unnoticed until you focus on it. Then it seems like an unwanted alien fungus.

And then there was Daniel. 

I felt my brow furrow as I remembered his lean frame emerging from the throw blanket; his fingers tracing the patterns on my worksheets. The scruffy but becoming stubble on his jaw, his firm but easy handshake, and warm hazel eyes framed in curls so dark brown they were almost black.

Or were his eyes chocolate?

Since when does it matter?

Admit it. You think he’s cute.

Out of nowhere, a blinding light flashed across the road.

“Gaah!” I slowed the car and blinked madly to try to clear my vision. Luckily, the road lines shone out yellow and white, and I was able to follow them well enough to pull over safely.

I parked on the narrow shoulder and rubbed my eyes.

What in the hell. Did someone bright-light me? Is there something wrong with the car?

Neither of these guesses made much sense. I sniffed for strange smells anyway, shut off the engine, and then (perhaps against my better judgement) got out of the car.

The darkness and the cool evening air helped clear my head. I was almost certain I wasn’t having engine problems, but I peered under the hood anyway.

Either someone randomly turned on a super-bright LED out in the woods… or I imagined it.

Not sure which is creepier.

I shut the hood decisively, determined that my imagination was running away with me. I took another deep gulp of woodsy air to try to steady my breathing, and walked back around the front of the car.

 A figure was leaning languidly against my gas tank. My nerves were already fried, so I nearly screamed.

“Car trouble?” the woman asked casually. She seemed almost pleased with my discomfort.

“No… no, I don’t think so,” I stammered, after removing my hand from my mouth. “I thought I saw this really bright light, and I pulled over….”

“Did your whole life flash before your eyes?” she laughed. I had the distinct feeling she was mocking me, and an even deeper gut feeling that the unearthly flash had somehow been her doing. I squinted at her.

She looked older than me, but only by ten years or so at the most. She was stocky, with suntanned skin under a trucker cap and overalls. Had the outfit been constructed intentionally, it might’ve passed for lumberjack-hipster-chic in Portland. But I had the feeling this was simply what she owned, and that she couldn’t care less for what others viewed as normal or tasteful.

“Are you… offering to help me? Or is there something I can do for you?” I asked the woman, unease evident in my tone.

She snickered.

“I’m not really offering to help you, but I will tip you off about something. I’m betting you just came from the DiAnnon house?”

“Yeah,” I said, before I could think better of it. “Yeah, I did. You must be one of their neighbors.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call them my neighbors. But I’ve known them for a long time, that’s for damn sure. I’m gonna give you ten dollars worth of advice for free: Stay away from them. A pretty little city girl like you has no idea what goes on in a house like that.”

I felt myself bristle at her condescension.

“I’ve worked in lots of different environments for several years. I bet I can figure it out. But thanks for the compliment. It’s been a while since anyone called me a girl. Or little.”

“Is that so? Well, keep on hanging around the DiAnnons, then. You’ll see just how little you really are.”

Feeling threatened, I got back into the car, locked the doors, and prayed that it wouldn’t have an issue starting. To my relief, the engine turned over easily.

But curiosity and irritation overtook me, and I rolled down the window to question the woman who was still leaning against my car like some sort of arrogant barnacle.

“You didn’t have anything to do with that flashing light, did you?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “I rest my case.”

“Whatever.” I threw the car into gear and lurched away from the shoulder, hoping to spin the tires enough to throw roadside gravel on her. As I sped away, I scanned my mirrors. 

There was no sign of her.

****

“Hey, Alex!” trilled Sarah from the living room, hearing me come through the front door. “Come play poker with us!”

Ugh. Poker? Now?

The events of the day had left me wanting to sit quietly and ruminate, as I had tried to do in the car. Any problem-solving energy in my brain needed to be funneled toward ideas for Daniel’s lesson plans.

Or figuring out what the hell was going on with that woman on the road.

 “Um, maybe?” I called back, not wanting to be rude or antisocial. “Let me put my bag down and change my clothes first.”

“All right, but hurry and get in here!” Sarah barked playfully. “You need to brush up so you can be ready for your date with Benji!”

Hoping I’d misheard her, I trundled down the hall and poked my head into the living room.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘date with Benji’?”

“Yup!” she grinned ear to ear. I once again found myself annoyed with her energy. She seemed almost flippant, or taunting.

“How’d it go?” Deon said, looking up from his hand. “Did you get the job?”

I would’ve sworn he was intentionally disregarding my tired eyes, and my lack of enthusiasm toward Benji.

Yes, Deon. Yes, I’m still good for rent. I know what makes you tick. And I know what makes Benji tick, too.

“Yes, I got the job.” I managed a small, hopeful smile. “The kid – Daniel – isn’t really a kid. Which makes my job more interesting. I’ll probably need to spend more time designing the curriculum than I thought, but they’re paying me well enough for it.”

“Awesome!” said Sarah. “You can tell Benji all about it Saturday night.”

“You’re serious?”

“He was asking all about you at work,” Deon shrugged. “I figured I’d go ahead and set you guys up. He wants to take you out to the new casino outside Vancouver. I told him you’d love it.”

I had to work very hard to keep the disgust off my face. I took no issue with gambling, but being trapped in a windowless, tobacco-smoke-filled building with the personification of Hyper-Masculinity, half an hour away from home, after I’d already told him that I didn’t really like to play cards… there were several (hundred) other things I’d rather do with my Saturday night.

“I’m not sure that we really hit it off that well at the Denner & Birch party,” I said, as delicately as I could manage.

“Maybe not, but I figured you’d want to give him a chance,” Deon rationalized. “Couldn’t be any worse than those dates you get from apps.”

I was slowly realizing that, in Deon’s mind, online dating was only a step or two above prostitution.

“Yeah, you never know! If it works out, we can all go on a double-date together.” Sarah was practically bouncing in her seat. 

With no small measure of disappointment in myself, I realized I’d rather go along with this and have it work out badly. That way, I could simply say “I told you so,” rather than summoning the energy to defend my gut instinct in this moment.

“All right, what the hell,” I laughed half-heartedly. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, other than to write lesson plans. Which, honestly, I should go work on now.”

“Okay! Well, it only takes me an hour to write up a lesson plan for thirty kids, so you can come join us in twenty minutes or so?”

“Sure,” I sighed, more to just get out of the room. “Deal me in in twenty. Gotta show Benji that I’m not just some bimbo who stands to the side and blows on his dice.”

I hung my jacket in the hall closet, and then trudged up the stairs.

I can’t keep up with these two. I can’t keep up with Sarah’s energy and neediness; I can’t keep up with Deon’s mood swings and lecturing. 

Stop being dramatic. Sarah’s not that needy. She’s your friend; she wants to spend time with you. And Deon isn’t nearly as moody as you.

Really? One minute he’s on my case about my job hunt. The next, it’s “But perk up and come be a playmate to my wife, and a plaything to my co-worker!”

Opening my satchel, I walked into the bathroom and put the two bottles of Marie-Jean’s custom shampoo on the sink top. Suddenly, a hot shower seemed like the best thing in the world.

I pulled a notebook and a pen out of the bag, and shut the door. With the rationalization that I did my best thinking in the shower, I set the writing supplies on the toilet tank so they’d be ready for me as soon as I got out.

As predicted, the hot water felt amazing. What I couldn’t predict was how much I would enjoy Marie-Jean’s concoction. Despite an odd mucus-like texture and a fluorescent-green glow, the lather smelled like a minty, cool forest. My scalp tingled pleasantly, and my hair felt smooth and moisturized.

Remember when Mom made you use that expensive hair treatment before senior photo day? It feels like that.

The one that freaked you out because it was made of rabbit placenta? Yep, I remember.

I tried to focus on ideas for Daniel’s lesson plans, but my mind anxiously drifted back to the hostility I’d encountered from both Denise, and the woman on the road.

There had to be something about me that was off-putting; something about my demeanor or presence that had instantly turned these women off. It was too coincidental that both awkward interactions had occurred in the same evening, within minutes of each other.

The DiAnnons seem to like me well enough. What could be so innocuous to one group of people, and so offensive to another?

You’re an outsider. You’re there at the invitation of the wealthy people, not because you belong there. Denise and that woman are being defensive, somehow.

Defensive of what? If the DiAnnons say you can be there, and Richard and Angela are the “insiders,” then it shouldn’t matter.

What if they’re not insiders? 

Then who is? It’s all a matter of perspective.

Yeah. Just like Deon and Sarah’s screwed-up perspective that Benji and I would actually make a good couple.

Perspective…

I rinsed my hair rapidly, and all but jumped out of the shower. I dried off my hands, head and torso, then stood dripping on the bathmat. With my hand racing to keep up with my brain, I rapidly jotted down notes for Wednesday’s session with Daniel, ideas now flowing as easily as the water had over my hair.