Louisa Neil (2 page)

She put her mug on the coffee table and snuggled down on the sofa. When she felt herself drifting off to sleep, she would force herself to wake, walking the length of the house hallway and back before going back to the sofa and television. She flipped the channel over and over, this time winding up on old situation comedies. It didn’t matter what they were, only that the laugh track in the background made her feel better. Diana closed her eyes at the commercial and woke with a start as the early light streamed through the sheer curtains she’d hung on the front windows.

She stood and stretched, feeling foolish about her nightmare. This morning she could hardly remember the face that frightened her so. Still, she had to force herself to go through her morning routine, showering and braiding her hair, dressing in comfortable chinos and a three-button knit shirt with the newspaper name embroidered over her left breast. She wore broken-in walking boots and took extra time to use the makeup she rarely put on anymore. After all, working in the basement archives of the newspaper, she was rarely seen. Her boss didn’t care what she looked like, only that she continued to produce legible computer copies of the newspaper he’d inherited and had come to love and covet. He ruled the paper with an iron fist and just recently accepted that the print version was dying in existence to the ease of the Internet.

She had been hired on when the paper had started its online version two years ago, although they continued to print a Sunday paper, including all the travel, entertainment, and headline stories. It had been a sad day when they didn’t print their normal Monday newspaper. Tuesday had been worse. Those first weeks, she hadn’t ventured past her moldy office, knowing how the employees were split. The younger reporters had seen this as progress. The older reporters had trouble with working their computers. She could sympathize with both camps.

In the last two years, she’d seen the older employees accept their computers and put aside their typewriters. It was do or die, as the saying went. Either you moved ahead with the times and equipment or you found yourself without a job, as a few could attest. Diana was always thankful she hadn’t been put in that position. She’d been hired because of her computer knowledge and background. While she could sympathize with the bosses, she understood if they didn’t keep pace, they would be left behind. So on Wednesdays, when the paper sent its Sunday supplement issue to the printers, she made a point of eating her lunch inside her office, avoiding the angst that was palpable in the air of the offices above her. Discourse in any way weighed heavily on her, and she’d been thankful the changes were accepted quickly by those who chose to accept progress. Even if it annoyed some of them, they kept their complaints to themselves.

She’d taken the job because of the relocation it required. Her winters in the snowy mountains of Maine were left behind without a second thought. One walk through the French Quarter and she’d found herself. While she, too, complained about the heat in the dead of summer, she thrived in the heat as opposed to the cold and snow of the state where she’d been born and raised. She’d chosen her neighborhood because it was close enough to the downtown but far enough to be away from the hordes of vacationers. She was also able to walk to her office, which meant she didn’t have the added expense of a car. Even though she was now the proud owner of a small driveway, it remained empty, much to the chagrin of her neighbors who were always wanting to rent it from her. In truth, she refused because she wanted the privacy. Diana thrived on living alone and being left to herself unless she was in the mood to socialize. That was why her job suited her so well.

Today she’d packed her lunch but knew she’d take it outside and find a seat somewhere that people thrived in the sunshine instead of eating at her desk. She couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder as she walked to work, the niggling fear of her dream still clinging to her mind. Arriving a few minutes ahead as usual, she smiled and nodded to the other employees as she made her way through the offices to the old wooden staircase that led down to her office. It was slightly rickety, but she never felt it would give way under her. Instead, she sighed with relief. The space looked just as she’d left it yesterday. She tucked her lunch in the cooler-sized refrigerator her boss, Walter, had brought her after realizing she brought her lunch. She also kept bottles of water in there, the only beverage she drank during the day.

Diana acknowledged that she’d seen much less of Walter lately, and he seemed stressed when she did see him. Most days he poked his head down to yell a hello, and she’d pause to ask how his day was going. It was their running joke, her asking about his day when he was checking on hers. She’d seen him gain weight in the last months, all of it landing around his middle. His once-thinning hair was now all but nonexistent, leaving him looking older than his fifty-something years. Walking through the office twice a day, his office door was closed, and his old-fashioned metal venetian blinds drawn tight.

This was strange to her, as he’d always kept them open, surveying the workroom and his reporters, even if he had a meeting going on. In fact, she couldn’t ever remember seeing them shut. The rest of the employees always seemed intent on their computer screens, not meeting her gaze as they often did. Something beyond going electronic was happening. Diana didn’t have a clue as to what it was and kept hoping Walter would take her into his confidence when he was ready.

She went around the room turning on her machines and flipping on the overhead lights. Pulling on a fresh pair of the cotton gloves, she reached for the next paper on the stack.

All morning while she went through her routine of scanning, her sixth sense was nagging at her subconscious. She remembered a conversation with her parents from her preteen years. They had been sitting at the kitchen table, supper dishes empty before them. She’d had a strange feeling in her stomach all day yet she couldn’t define the ache. She’d missed her school bus home on purpose that day. At the time she wasn’t sure why, but she made the long trek home alone. Just a few blocks before her stop, she saw the bus sitting at an awkward angle to the curb, one of the rear tires in shreds along the street. There were long, wavy black marks on the street for what had to be one hundred feet before it came to rest where it was.

She entered the crowd of students, residents and parents all clamoring to find their children and make sure they were safe. Her mother had been in the crowd, and Diana would never forget the look of relief on her features when she’d found her.

“I was so afraid you’d been hurt,” her mother had said, dropping to her knees and hugging her tight. While there were no major injuries, Diana was thankful she hadn’t taken the bus home.

She’d been quiet the rest of the afternoon, listening to her parents talk about the accident. Finally, her father turned to her.

“Why weren’t you on the bus?” he asked.

“I missed it today,” she’d simply said, but she knew neither parent truly believed her. After many attempts she finally stood, anger her first emotion to be let loose. “Just leave me alone. I missed it on purpose, okay. I got a strange feeling and knew I couldn’t get on it, so I stayed behind.”

Her mother had stood clearing dishes after refilling her father’s coffee mug. His laughing wasn’t what she had expected.

“
Why are you laughing at me
?” Screaming wasn’t their norm, and she’d found herself as surprised by her outburst as her parents had been.

“I’m not laughing at you, Diana,” her father had said. “I’m proud you listened to your gut.”

She sat back heavily in her seat. “What are you talking about?” In that instant, she could picture his craggy face and kind blue eyes.

“Some people get gut feelings on occasion. It’s an inner sense that makes them hesitate when they feel something isn’t right. Like you did today.”

“Stop calling it a gut feeling. That’s not appropriate for a young girl. Why not consider it a sixth sense? That sounds much more ladylike.” Her mother rested her hand over Diana’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze before going back to the dishes.

“‘Gut feeling’ describes it just as well,” her father bantered back to her mother.

“How about calling it her ‘inner sense,’ then? That’s much more acceptable for a young lady.”

“Call it what you want, Diana. But something inside you made you miss that bus today. Call it gut instinct, a sixth sense, or an inner sense. But you’ve got it, girl, and you should heed its warnings when it comes.”

“I’m just thankful you’re okay.” Her mother was twisting the dishrag between her fingers.

“It was just a blown tire on the bus, Mom. It’s not like I missed a major accident.”

“Honey, your father’s right. You have good instincts. I just want you to learn to listen to those inner, sixth-sense feelings. That doesn’t mean you have to act on them all the time, just consider them and make your choices accordingly.” Her mother had turned away and started washing the supper dishes.

“I’m glad you’re safe, honey.” Her father stood, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and began clearing the rest of the dishes.

That night in bed she thought over what had happened that day. She would listen to her own body and mind from now on. Whether she referred to it as a gut feeling, inner or sixth sense, that day had been a lesson for her in her own instincts.

She continued to swap out scanned pages for new ones.

As Diana had grown up, she’d honed her intuition. She didn’t speak about it with anyone, just made some decisions accordingly. Which reinforced why she didn’t have many long-term relationships in her life. While dating, she’d been able to understand early on what the boy or man wanted from her. Most of the time it was some form of sex. When she wasn’t willing to lose her virginity in the back of Roger Denton’s van, he called her a bitch. She knew in reality, he and some friends had had a bet on who could get laid first. She didn’t want to be a pawn in their game. While she dated often, she always knew when the end was near, when the boys would push for contact she wasn’t willing to give.

In the first two years of college, she’d dated just about anyone who asked her out. She refused to listen to her inner gut feelings and found herself being used until a prettier girl came along. Yes, she’d groped her way through sexual situations until she was able to see clearly the boy’s alternative motives. In her last years of college, she became much more adept at reading people’s intentions and steering clear of the boys who just wanted to use her body.

She smiled and swapped out another paper. Her first years out of college, she worked for a computer company, inputting data and honing her skills. But she’d also come into her own, as her mother would say. Now when she accepted dates, she knew from the start which man truly liked her and which just wanted something from her.

It was at that point in her life she began to want control over dates and the sexual activities in which she participated. Naturally, most men didn’t understand her demonstrative ways in bed. They were the men, and she was supposed to follow their lead, not climb on top and take her own releases. After a few dates, most men found her domineering and resistant to their wishes. She didn’t get many third or fourth dates. It seemed natural to her that since she knew what she liked and what made her body orgasm, a little direction couldn’t hurt. Then she found adopting a policy of sex without emotions worked for a while until the men began to feel used by her. While they didn’t want to get emotionally involved, they expected her to. When she resisted and focused on her needs, her dating life came to a standstill. Most men didn’t agree with her, so she’d pulled back and focused on her job.

While she still dated occasionally, they only had sex when she was interested and could direct their actions. Why fumble around when she knew exactly how to get herself off? Men, she learned, liked to fumble if it made them feel in charge. So she stopped dating and began to learn her body’s needs, using toys for her own satisfaction.

Her resolve had made her a strong-willed woman in all aspects of her life. While widely misunderstood, she preferred to be alone than know she was supposed to be a meek plaything for the men. Her inner, sixth sense shaped her into the woman she was today. Strong willed in all aspects of her life.

While she’d always know she was adopted, she never knew anything about her birth parents. As she grew up, she felt it would be hateful to ask questions. In her teen years, she did ask, and was told it was a closed adoption, the birth parents not wanting contact. Diana accepted it was her birth mother’s choice and never pursued trying to find her. But she did wonder if everyone had these same gut feelings or was it inherited.

By twelve thirty she was bleary-eyed and decided to take a break. Grabbing her bag lunch from the fridge, she wondered if anyone upstairs would notice she was leaving. As she passed through the offices, not a single person raised their head or hand in acknowledgement. Diana realized they went out of their way not to meet her eyes. Passing Walter’s office, she was about to raise her hand to wave but held back, noting the blinds were open wide, and a stranger was sitting across from Walter. Moving swiftly, she only saw a brown-haired man from behind. Deciding not to inquire, she continued outside and down a block to the common area where she managed to snag half a bench. Today she ate her sandwich while watching the crowd walk by. Half an hour later, the heat was starting to get to her, and she headed back, even though she technically had another half left. Her trip back to the office was as sullen and nondescript as her trip out. Downstairs, she used the miniscule bathroom that was tucked under the staircase. She didn’t care that it was small, only that it was private.