Manic Monday
Oliver:
I could feel - instead of hear - my phone buzzing near my head. It's my wake up call. I reach for my night table with my eyes still closed, groping for the vibrating kill-joy gadget that cut short a beautiful dream of me and my wife walking hand in hand on a strip of white sand beach in an exotic tropical island as a fiery red sun set over the horizon. Just like most Mondays, I struggle to get out of bed, bargaining with a piece of technology for a few more minutes to snuggle up close to the woman of my dreams.
I roll over to my left side, reaching for Felicity on her side of the bed, but there was nothing but sheets. Surprised, I open my eyes, which had refused to do so just a few seconds ago. "She's up early," I say to myself. "That's odd. My wife rarely gets up before I do, especially on a Monday morning." So I get up from bed and head for the bathroom to see if she's there. I walk past our spacious walk-in closet towards the bathroom, and I see that the lights are on.
As I enter through the doorway, a fresh-from-the-shower Felicity with a pink-and-white striped towel wrapped around her torso comes into full view. She's standing in front of the bathroom counter, looking intently at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Even without make-up and with uncombed damp hair, my wife never fails to take my breath away. She doesn't notice me standing at an angle behind her just a few feet away, so I lean against the door post with my arms crossed in front of my bare chest and just savor the sight of her. "What did I ever do to deserve such a woman?" I ask myself in amazement as the corners of my lips turn up to a grin.
As she rinses off the toothpaste in her mouth, I walk towards her from behind. She looks up and sees my reflection in the mirror, forcing a smile, just before she spews frothy liquid from her mouth into the sink. "Morning," she says to me dryly. I sense that she's tense and uptight about something. As she reaches for the facial moisturizer, I lean over and envelope my wife's slender body with my arms, my hands snaking around her waist and then rubbing circles on her hips as a gesture of sincere fondness.
Felicity:
I feel my husband's sturdy yet gentle arms wrap around my towel-dried body, and I sensed the pleasure that hugging and caressing me was giving him. As I massage my face with some moisturizer, he, in turn, massages my hips, and I momentarily get lost in thought.
Oliver has always been sweet, tender, and loving. I can't remember a day when he did not show his affection for me through some form of touch. And even on days when I was being somewhat difficult, he still manages to keep calm and stay cool. Not a day goes by that he doesn't say "I love you."
I wish I could say that about myself these days. Since I took over Walter's position in the Board and became head of IT at QC, the stress at work has increasingly been taking its toll on my health and on my sanity. I feel like I'm being pulled in different directions. The many demands at work and at the home front are driving me crazy, but I can't complain. Oliver expects me... scratch that. Oliver trusts me to do a good job, and I don't want to let him down. He keeps telling me how proud he is about everything I've accomplished so far, but I can't seem to bring myself to tell him that I'm burning out. I don't want to be cranky sometimes... okay, most of the time... I really don't. I miss my old self. If things don't change, I just might break.
My husband plants kisses on my neck and I feel his hands trailing from my hips to my waist to my stomach, and upwards to...
"Oliver!" I squeal in protest, squirming to pull away from his warm touch. "I know where this is headed, and it can't happen. Now is not a good time."
"Not a good time? Again?" my disappointed husband asks. "What's wrong? It's a Monday morning, Felicity."
"I need to get going. Early. Kendrick from Accounting buzzed me at 5:30 with an SOS. Can you believe it?! 5:30! Apparently their system crashed last night for some reason and they want me to personally fix it, because today is the 15th, and it's payday, and they're afraid that over a thousand disgruntled QC employees might storm their office if we can't get their programs up and running by the time the banks open at 9 a.m. Problem is, Emily's teacher texted me last Friday asking me to come over for a conference at 7 a.m. today before first period starts. I'm not sure what it's about. I doubt it's about her grades... hmm... coz we all know she has the brains of a fifth grader. I hope she's not causing trouble of some sort. You know how she can be sometimes. I was thinking... can you ask John to be the one to bring the kids to school today? Coz I have to be in QC before the Accounting people start coming in at 8:00. Oh, brother! See? I haven't even figured out how I'm supposed to be in two places at the same time this morning! This day hasn't even jumpstarted, and I'm already freaking out! And I'm babbling away again, aren't I?" I find myself clutching my damp blonde hair from the roots as I realized I had been verbalizing my anxious thoughts out loud.
"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, Babe," Oliver interrupts my jabbering and turns me around to face him. He knows that calling me "baby" calms me down and lets me focus better on what he wants to say to me. He knows that it helps me put things into perspective and recognize that he's sincere, because it brings me back to the days when we were still dating and courting. "Honey" is his generic, everyday term of endearment. Recently, my first name has been reserved for when he is frustrated, upset, or when he is about to say something serious or important. Like now.
He holds me with both hands on my shoulders to keep me steady. "Felicity, have a quick breakfast, and then go, rescue Kendrick. The employees do need their wages today, and that includes us." He smirked. "I'll ask Diggle to drive you and Carrie to QC," he says to me calmly. "I'll take the kids to school and talk with Emily's teacher, and then we can talk about it later in the office. Okay?"
I nod twice in agreement and then bite my lower lip like a little child that has just been so lovingly reprimanded. I cup his stubbly jaw with my hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips as a token of thankfulness and appreciation. "You're my hero. I feel better already," I say to my wonderful husband.
Oliver:
Felicity woke Carrie up and got her ready for the day, and then they both went down to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before Diggle drove them off to the office.
As soon as they left, I begin to fill in my wife's shoes. The first impossible task is to get them all out of bed and into their respective bathrooms. Stephen is easy; he only needs a bribe. Three hours of gaming tonight after school and homework - even if I was well aware of their mother's rules about gadgets on a school night - quickly gets him on his feet, dashing for the shower faster than a speeding bullet. I'll just have to find some way to deal with my wife's ranting later.
Emily is a monster in the mornings. I choose plan A first. I sit on the edge of her bed and gently tap her shoulder. "Wake up, Ems," I whisper. "Wake up, Emily," I say. She stirs a bit and holds up two fingers without saying a word or opening her eyes. "Okay," I respond. "Two minutes."
I move on to the next bedroom, expecting to find Liv already on the toilet. "Good morning, Dad! I'm-"
"I know what you're doing, sweetheart," I cut her off with a chuckle."Just keep at it until you're done. Do you need me to wash you up after?"
"Nah... I can do it. I'm a big girl now," she says with a confident smile. Liv is the independent one. At four, she can handle herself better than most seven-year-olds. "Okay. Just call me if you need any help with the shower or with getting dressed." I leave her room and decide to check up on Emily.
"Ems?" I shake my head vigorously upon seeing her still buried beneath her comforter. "Come on, Emily. Please get up. I don't want to be late for a conference with your teacher at seven. Move your butt right now," I say with a slightly louder voice. In response, she holds up those two fingers again. Immediately drained of my usually abundant supply of patience, I switch to plan B. I walk briskly towards her and begin to pull her out of bed by the arms and legs. She thrashes and whines like a brat. "Get up right now, young lady, or I'll... I'll..." I suddenly run out of something to say. I'm not used to doing this in the mornings. This is my wife's turf. She has enough tricks and threats up her sleeve that always gets our daughter out of bed.
"Or you'll what?" Emily blurts out, now with eyes wide open. I can't quite read the expression in her eyes. I ask myself, "Is she challenging me, or is she simply teasing?" I panic. I realize that I don't have an honest-to-goodness answer. So I just answer, "Get up right now, or I'll make sure your mother-"
Emily cuts me off with a burst of laughter. And then she says with subtle sarcasm, "Mom is too busy to even bother to give me a hard time." With that, she gets up, out of her bed, and marches to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Speechless. That's how I felt right then and there. Emily's remark was loaded with meaning. With pent up emotions. "No wonder her teacher is asking for a meeting," I think to myself as I heave a sigh. I know I need to brace myself for what's in store, not just with the meeting in school, but more importantly with the talk that I urgently need to have later on with my wife, Emily's mother.
Setting all that aside and refocusing on my mission for the morning, I head for TJ's room, the last one down the hall. TJ is a classic sleepy head, but he's not a whiner in the mornings. Ruffling his blonde hair and whispering "Good morning" or "It's time to wake up, son," are all it takes to get him out of bed. He stretches out his limbs and yawns. He opens his slightly crusty eyes and says to me, "Good morning, Daddy." I help him up and we go straight to the bathroom. After I help him with his morning rituals and with a quick shower, I get him dressed up for school.
About thirty minutes later, Stephen, Emily, the twins, and I are already seated at the kitchen counter, hurriedly gobbling up five different kinds of cereals - each kind somehow representative of our unique personalities and preferences. I feel proud of myself as we all boarded the van with plenty of time to get to school before the scheduled conference at 7:00, relishing a sense of accomplishment that I had successfully managed a seemingly impossible task with just occasional glaring and minimal yelling. I have a victor's smile pasted on my face the entire trip to school.
But a thought crosses my mind as I drive. "A mother's job is not a joke. Felicity does this every morning... before she even tackles the challenges of helping me run a Fortune 500 company. I can't imagine myself doing what she does every single day." I decide to come up with a plan for her birthday on Friday - which is the day before our wedding anniversary - and I share it with the kids on our way to school. They gladly want in.
Felicity:
The entire elevator ride from the fifth floor (where the Accounting department is) to the top floor (where Oliver's and my offices are) took longer than I expected. But it's alright. I am alone in it, and God must have known that I desperately need the peace and quiet right now. "Stupid idiot," I mutter, and the very next second I regret saying it. "I'm sorry," I whisper a prayer.
But who can blame me? The entire payroll had been hanging in the balance in the early morning of payday... of all days. All because of a nasty virus that infiltrated the system, thanks to an irresponsible jerk who had secretly plugged in his personal external drive full of video games just so that he could realize his obsession for the Clash of Clans during coffee breaks. It's his fault I had to get up at 5:30 on a Monday morning. It's his fault I couldn't linger under the covers in my husband's embrace. It's his fault that I wasn't there for my children today. It's his fault I missed the conference with my daughter's teacher. It's his fault that I now have a splitting headache. Entirelyhisfault.
"I can't wait to get a nice big hug from Oliver," I say to myself. "That'll make me feel a whole lot better." The ding of the elevator brings me back from my internal murmurings.
I drag my feet down the hallway and into Oliver's office. I look beyond the glass walls and the first sight that greets me is that of a pretty, petite Chinese-looking young woman sitting behind the secretary's desk. "Oliver has a new secretary? I wonder what happened to Tom." I push the glass door and make my way into the receiving area of Oliver's office. I smile and greet the new girl with a simple nod and a soft "hello" as I turn towards the next glass door leading to my husband's main office.
The new girl stands and circles her desk anxiously. "Oh... uhm... excuse me, Ma'am. May I know your name and your purpose for seeing Mr. Queen today, please?" the seemingly smart Asian girl says to me.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I reply as I turn back to face her, somehow managing a friendly smile. "I believe we haven't been properly introdu-"
She cuts me off. "I'm afraid there's nothing in Mr. Queen's schedule about a visitor or a meeting, but I'm sure this is just a minor misunderstanding that can be fixed instantly. Would you care to have a seat while I straighten things out with him?"
My head tilts to the side as my eyes narrow, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. "She seems smart, but she's just as rude," I think to myself.
"Come again?" she asks.
My eyebrows lift as I lick my lips in embarrassment. I didn't realize I had said that out loud, though not loud enough for her to understand. I pretend not to hear her question. Instead, Iwalk towards her slowly and ask, "You're Miss...?"
"Fei. Shado Fei," she answers.
"Oh. Good morning, Ms. Fei. I would love to have seat but I'd prefer the one inside my husband's office, if you don't mind. I'm Felicity Queen. It's nice to meet you," I say to her, struggling to turn my fake smile into a more genuine one. That last sentence makes me feel a bit guilty for lying. My first impression of her isn't exactly a pleasant one.
Shado Fei gasps upon realizing who I was. It took her a few seconds to close her gaping mouth and speak. "Mrs. Queen! Oh! I'm so sorry. Soooo sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know who you were. It's my first day as Mr. Queen's new secretary. Please excuse my rude behavior."
I don't know whether or not I should believe her. I mean, who was she kidding? Pictures of my husband and me and our family are all over the tabloids and magazines that feast upon the private lives of Starling City's elite. How can she not be able to tell who I am? Was this all an act, or is she trying to make fun of me? Something in my gut tells me that something about this girl is off, but I choose to be civil.
"Well, now that we know who each other is, maybe we can just shake hands and start all over," I said, offering my right hand as a well-meaning gesture. "My apology too, for not properly introducing myself earlier. I just assumed that everyone is Starling knows who I am. Turns out I was wrong."
"Oh, I'm not from Starling, Mrs. Queen," Shado responds. "I've just moved here from Hongkong where I finished my studies in the secretarial arts. I'm the last one in my family to migrate to the U.S."
I think to myself, "So that explains the ignorance... but not the rudeness." Out loud I respond politely, "I see. Well then, welcome to the U.S. and welcome to Starling City, Ms. Fei. And... welcome to Queen Consolidated."
"Thank you, Mrs. Queen. And once again, I apologize for what happened earlier," she reiterates.
"Forgiven. No more worries," I reply. I figure I might as well learn to be nice to the girl whose face will be greeting me from now on every time I visit my husband's office. I decide to flash a friendly smile just before I walk away and step into my husband's office.
Oliver:
"Hi, Honey!" I greet my lovely wife. "I see you've met my new secretary, Shado."
Felicity:
The smile that took some will power for me to put on just a second ago quickly disappeared. In a split-second, it was replaced by a frown. "Yup... And I see you and your new secretary are on a first name basis?" I'm not sure if that was a question or a statement, but I meant to drive at something.I'm not exactly sure what yet,but my husband calling the new girl Shado instead of Ms. Fei like he'd always referred to previous male and female secretaries before her didn't quite please me.
Oliver:
I sense that there was something wrong about Felicity's response. The trouble down at the Accounting department must have brought out her dark side again. I just let out a laugh because I don't want to make a big deal out of something so petty. I push away from my desk, stand up, and walk towards my obviously cranky wife. I figure there's nothing on her mind that a warm hug and sweet kiss couldn't chase away.
"Is that jealousy I detect, Mrs. Queen?" I ask as I take both her hands and wrap her arms around my waist.
"What if it is?" Felicity replies with her own question, as she tries to free her hands and arms from my grasp.
"Then it can only mean that you miss your man just as much as he misses you," I say as I lower my head, my mouth aiming for her lusciously pink lips.
She pulls back and breaks away from me, and then tramps angrily into the conference room. I take it she doesn't want the new girl to see us arguing. About her.
I put both my hands inside the pockets of my pants and follow her into the empty conference room. "Honey, there's nothing to be jealous about," I assure my wife. "Ms. Fei has just started-"
"Oh... so now it's Ms. Fei, huh?"
"Felicity..." I'm starting to be irritated at my wife's foolish and childish behavior. "I don't even know her that well," I add.
"And what happens when you get to know her better?" she asks, pointing a finger at the silk tie on my chest.
"Felicity! What's wrong with you?" I say with a louder voice, exasperated.
This must startle my wife, because the angry expression on her face instantly changes. Her eyes begin to pool with tears and her lips quiver. She slumps down into the chair at the end of the conference table, as she buries her face into her hands.
"I'm sorry, Oliver," she says, weeping. "I... I didn't... I didn't mean any of the things I said." She weeps some more, trying her best not to wail out loud and draw the attention of the other woman who had been the reason for her outburst.
I kneel down beside Felicity and start rubbing her back to comfort her. When she stops crying, I cup her face with my hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with my thumbs. My wife does not need me to reason with her right now. She doesn't need a logical explanation. She needs peace and quiet. Comfort. She needs me to love her. So I finish off what I had wanted to start a few minutes ago. I slide my hands from her face to her nape, and then cradle the back of her head as I lean forward and kiss her. I pour out into her soul as much affection as I could to make her feel better. I break the kiss for a second to let her get some air and let out a sob, and then I kiss her some more, combing through her soft blonde locks, which she had decided not to tie up into a ponytail today. When I pull back, I hold her firmly by her elbows and lift her up to her feet, and then we embrace.
"I love you," I whisper to her ear.
"I know," she whispers back.
"You're okay. We're okay," I say to her in a hushed voice.
Felicity pulls back from our embrace, but keeps her arms around my waist. "I don't think I'm okay. I'm just... so... tired," she says with her head hanging low. "I guess I'm too scared to admit it, but... I don't think I can go on this way."
"And you shouldn't. You need to take it easy," I tell her. "I won't allow you to break down. I won't have it. You're definitely more important than QC." My wife looks up to meet my gaze and plants a short, chaste kiss on my lips. And then I ask, "Do you need some time off from the office?"
"I'll think about it," she replies.
"Please. Think about it. I really think you need to slow down," I say.
And then I remember what had transpired in my meeting with Emily's teacher earlier today. Now is a good time to share it. It just might convince her to take the offer of her having some time off from work.
"Speaking of slowing down," I start, "you also might want to think about spending a little more time with Emily. This just might be the break you need to catch up with our daughter." I wink at her, hoping to get her to smile.
"Why?" she asks. "Something wrong at school? What did Mrs. Forrester say?"
"She's not causing trouble, if that's what you're asking," I answer. I swallow hard to prepare for what I'm going to say next. "She's... uhm... her grades are going down. Almost all of her subject teachers are noticing it, and they want our help to find out what's going on with her."
"What?" Felicity breaks away from our embrace, once again agitated. "I don't understand. She's a very bright girl."
"That's what we have to find out. But Mrs. Forrester is suggesting that we look into her relationship with her mother." I pause, carefully studying the expression on my wife's face, trying to decide whether or not I should continue with what I have to say.
"Go on," she says.
"Apparently, Emily's been doodling and sketching a lot lately. Not just during her free time in school, but also... while she's supposed to be listening to her teachers teach. Mrs. Forrester showed me some of her sketches, and... Honey, they're all sketches of you... you and her, when she was younger."
My wife turns and walks away, stopping a few feet away from me. Then she turns around and looks straight into my eyes with deep desperation, as if begging for help.
"Felicity... Baby, I think she misses you. I think it's possible she's behaving this way to get your attention. She must miss you spending time her. More importantly, I think she misses 'you and her,' you know, before there was a Queen family."
