I glanced at the clock on my desk. I would give Keith an hour and a half before I called to see how the interview went. The interview was scheduled at two pm, and I figured I could call Keith around half past three.
My phone rang at two thirty and I saw from caller ID that it was John.
‘Hello John,’ I said brightly.
‘Dusty – Keith never showed up. Do you know where he is?’ John said, and I could tell from his tone that he was fed up.
‘No!’ I said, immediately concerned. ‘He didn’t turn up, you say?’
‘Nope!’
My thoughts turned immediately to the possibility of traffic jams and, more urgently, an accident. My stomach automatically clenched as a distant memory stirred.
John continued to say. ‘My secretary’s called him; I have called him, on his cell phone AND your home, several times, but no answer.’ He grumbled. ‘Did he confirm he was coming for the interview? Could he have mixed up the time?’
I brushed my paranoia away and said, ‘No John, he knows the time. Could he be caught up in traffic, you think? Let me try him again and I’ll call you back.’
‘OK,’ John said, but he sounded resigned rather than hopeful. ‘But we’ll have to reschedule the interview. Paul has something else lined up this afternoon now that Keith has missed his slot.’
I felt terrible about wasting John’s and Paul’s time, knowing what it was like to have your schedule screwed up. After a quick apology, I hung up and immediately dialed Keith’s cell phone first, my hands shaking a little. I waited for the ring tone and it went straight to voicemail – the phone was off! Keith never turned his phone off, unless …
Next I tried the house. It rang till the voice message came on. I ground my teeth and waited impatiently for it to end and beep, and then I said in my best growl, ‘Keith, if you are there, pick up right NOW! I want to talk to you.’
I counted silently – one, two, thr…
‘Hi Dusty.’
I let go a sigh of relief. Thank God he was safe. My relief instantly turned to annoyance. I barked into the receiver. ‘What are you doing at home? Why are you not at the interview?’
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Keith said. ‘I’m sorry Dusty, but I decided not to go for it.’
‘Excuse me?’ I asked in an incredulous voice, and I could feel my eyebrows almost touch my hairline.
Silence.
‘And when did you decide this, Keith?’
I could feel him squirm. It was just as well we were not physically together. I was ready to throttle him.
‘This morning, after you left.’ Keith sounded contrite, which for once did nothing for me.
‘So you just decided NOT to go for this interview? And then you just let John and Paul WAIT for you? Just like that?’
Silence.
‘Did you switch off your cell phone? Why didn’t you pick up John’s call at home!’
Silence.
‘Well?’ I demanded sharply, in a tone I rarely used with Keith.
‘I c..can explain …’ Keith’s voice was noticeably shaking.
I cut him off. ‘You are going explain all right, just not right now. We WILL be discussing this in great detail tonight, but right now, I have to call John first. Do you know how much trouble he went through to set this up for you?’
More silence.
‘John was worried about you!’ I barked. And you scared the hell out of me too, I added silently.
I waited, and when nothing more was forthcoming, I said brusquely. ‘All right then. You know I have a dinner meeting tonight which I cannot get out of. Get your own dinner, then get yourself ready for bed. Wait for me in the bedroom. And I suggest, Keith, you spend the time THINKING, and you better BE PREPARED to give me some answers when I see you. Am I making myself clear, young man?’ I had not been this stern with Keith in a long while.
‘Yes,’ he whispered.
I had to cut it short as I had a ton of work to get through before dinner, and I still had to make that call to John, which I was not looking forward to.
As expected, John was disgusted but restrained, for my sake. I apologized again as best I could and promised to make amends. John snorted and said, ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You are way too easy with him, Dusty!’
That rankled. But considering the situation, I held my tongue.
The whole episode succeeded to put me in a foul mood all through dinner. My temper, by the time dinner was over, though no longer explosive, was still simmering. I deliberately took a slow drive home, allowing the cool night air to blow into the car in a bid to calm my temper. I pulled into our drive and looked at the darkened house, shaking my head. I had forgotten to ask Keith to leave the porch light on. Except for the light in the master bedroom, dimmed by the drawn curtains, the rest of the house was shrouded in darkness. Rather like my mood, I thought to myself.
I found Keith sitting at the end of our bed, clad in pajamas, as instructed. The evenings had turned cool enough for Keith to trade his customary shorts and t-shirt for proper pajamas. I looked again. Actually, those pajamas were mine and they were at least one size too big for him.
His hands were folded neatly in between his knees, his head was bent and he kept his eyes fixed on the carpet when I entered the room. The picture of sweet docility. I snorted silently to myself.
Walking slowly to the window, I leaned against it, and spent several long moments looking him up and down.
I said conversationally. ‘I have been trying to figure out the whole evening why you would do something like this, and I can’t for the life of me come up with a single good reason.’
He grimaced, but held my gaze steadily.
‘Well, would you care to explain your behavior to me?’ I asked.
Keith cleared his throat before he spoke. ‘I know you are mad at me, Dusty.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s that obvious?’
‘I am SORRY!’ I know I agreed to go for the interview, BUT I JUST COULDN’T!’
I waited while he plunged into what seemed like a rehearsed line. ‘John’s your best friend!’
‘And your point is?’
Keith swallowed. ‘I … I just cannot work for John. We see him all the time. It would be too weird … I wouldn’t be able to separate my personal life from my work.’ he muttered unhappily.
I decided to deal first with the most straightforward item. ‘You are NOT working for John, but for John’s partner, Paul. We made that very clear, didn’t we, Keith?’
‘But it’s the same thing! That is John’s own company. I would be under John’s nose every day.’ He shuddered visibly. ‘And when we meet socially, he would be my BOSS! It’s just too weird. I can’t do it!’ He said, cringing.
‘And you could not tell me this earlier?’ I let go an exasperated sigh and pushed off from the window. I took a turn around the room before stopping in front of Keith, knuckles on my hips.
‘Keith, why the hell didn’t you say something about how you felt when we discussed it?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know ….’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Well … you seemed to think it was such a great idea, and I didn’t want to …make you … mad .. ?’ He trailed off.
I stared at him, flabbergasted. ‘Keith, have I ever gotten mad because you expressed an opinion?’
‘Nooo ...’
‘Have I ever NOT listened to your opinions in the past, hmm?’
‘Nooooooo ...’
‘Have I ever NOT considered your feelings, especially when it’s something to do with you personally?’ I asked, coming to the end of my tether.
He looked unhappily at me. ‘I already said I am sorry! I should have told you, I know that! And NO! You have never NOT considered my feelings.’
‘Thank you! So then – why did you think I would get mad?’
‘Well …. well …. because … THIS IS ABOUT JOHN!’
I stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘What?’
‘You’d be mad because it was John I was turning down.’
‘Keith – this is NOT about John! This is about YOU FINDING A JOB!’
‘Never mind … that’s just what I thought …’ Keith mumbled, casting his eyes down once more, and shrugged.
There was an awful silence as we both seemed to struggle with our own thoughts. Oh God, I thought to myself, grappling with half a dozen divergent thoughts. My mind raced over past conversations and actions, and I could not remember ever trivializing Keith’s feelings. And certainly never for John’s benefit.
My voice softened. ‘You thought wrong, sweetheart! It wouldn’t matter who was involved, the decision to accept or reject the job was entirely yours. Beyond offering you the job, John has nothing to do with it. I’m sorry if I had not made that clear to you.’
Keith jerked his head up, responding immediately to my softer tone. ‘I’m really sorry too. I thought I could just go along with it and attend the interview and then not take the job. You know … say something like it wouldn’t suit me?’
I remained silent, waiting.
His lashes fluttered nervously. ‘And then I thought if I did not intend to take the job, then why go for the interview in the first place … it just seemed such a ... waste of effort and time … ’
I took a deep, deep breath and counted up to ten.
‘Keith,’ I said, my tone still soft. ‘I am not denying you the right to have those doubts about working for John or Paul. In fact, I’m sorry I didn’t think of them. Those concerns are valid and I understand what you are saying. But you should have told me so that we could have talked about it. You had no right to keep that to yourself.’
Keith nodded his head, still maintaining eye contact.
‘But what I am mad about – VERY MAD, mind you! – is you taking advantage of John and Paul, letting them think you were going to attend the interview, then not turning up! They are very busy people. And that is very irresponsible and discourteous behavior, and I wouldn’t let that go, be it John or Paul or anyone else. Are we clear on that?’
Keith nodded his head again, eyes beginning to swim.
‘And what makes me even more angry is you avoiding all the phone calls just so you didn’t have to deal with the situation. People get worried about you when you don’t answer your calls. I was worried about you when John said you did not pick up. You are never to do that again! Is that understood?’
He ducked his head, but quickly brought it up again, knowing I expected eye contact. ‘Yes. I am sorry!’ he finally whispered.
‘You are hardly ever irresponsible like this, Keith. What on earth were you thinking? John was upset, and rightfully so! And I was deeply embarrassed that my partner could behave that way.’
Keith’s face flamed. Those were harsh words to say to him. He made as if to reach out for me and I quickly shook my head, determined to see this through.
‘Stand up!’ I ordered.
He gulped but slowly came to his feet.
‘Fetch the hairbrush.’ I said calmly.
His eyes opened in shock but I nodded briskly towards the dresser where the hairbrush was located and I watched him drag his feet over.
He looked pleadingly at me when he handed me that offensive implement but I firmly ignored his silent plea. There were only two levels of corporal punishment in our home: a hand spanking would serve for most transgressions, and the hairbrush was reserved for when Keith had done something to really piss me off.
His fingers plucked nervously at his pajama top as I laid the hairbrush down on the bed. I grabbed a pillow and placed it at the end of the bed.
‘Take those down please.’ I said, indicating his pajama bottoms.
His face twisted and he stood unmoving before me.
‘Keith, now!’
I watched a tear slide down his cheek as he slowly lowered his pajama pants off his hips. I pointed to the pillow. He moved forward and I pushed him firmly down over it. His chest rested on the bed while his bottom was propped up by the pillow, and nicely raised for the obvious. I pushed his pants further down, all the way to his knees, exposing the firm white flesh of his buttocks and thighs.
I moved closer and began a quick spank with my hand, not at all keen to prolong Keith’s agony. To my surprise, Keith began to cry softly, almost immediately. I ignored the tears and watched his bottom turn pink, and then I picked up the hairbrush. He tensed and I had to admit, I tensed with him. The hairbrush was not used often, and steeling myself, I raised my hand and brought it swiftly down on the reddened flesh. That drew an immediate reaction from Keith. He jerked his head up and yelped loudly.
‘Ow Dusty! Ow! That hurts!’
I tightened my grip to keep him in place. The sound of wood against bare flesh echoed again and again in the room, and I clenched my teeth. A few times, Keith tried to scramble off the bed and pillow, but I grasped him against my hip firmly and prevented him from moving out of position.
‘You do not behave so irresponsibly, Keith. Do you hear me?’ The hairbrush moved lower down and landed solidly on the thighs.
‘OW!’ Keith yelped, kicking. ‘Please Dusty. I’m sorry!’
I started one last circuit. Like I said, it was not often Keith was punished with the hairbrush, but when the occasion called for it, I made sure it was a thorough job. By the time I was done, Keith’s entire bottom was crimson and his thighs showed several red patches where the hairbrush had landed. He was crying hard, and clutching the bedclothes desperately.
I let Keith have his cry out while I stroked his back. I quietly drew several deep breaths myself. He was still gulping back tears unashamedly when I put him back on his feet. I pulled his pants up for him, sat on the bed and pulled him in between my knees, to finish my lecture.
‘On Monday, you will call John and Paul, and apologize to them both!’ I ordered sternly.
He nodded his head, still unable to speak.
‘You take responsibility for your actions. You do not run away from them or pretend they do not exist. Do you?’
He quickly shook his head.
‘Is it right to switch off your phone then, when you are in trouble, just to avoid talking to people and addressing the issue?’
Again, he shook his head.
‘Answer me.’ I ordered sternly.
‘N..no.’ *sniff*
‘And what do you do if you have doubts about things we’ve discussed or agreed? ’
He stole a glance at me, looking utterly miserable. ‘S..share with .. you,’ he whispered in a hoarse voice.
‘All right then.’ I stood up and drew him towards me. He came into my arms in a rush, choking back more tears. I held him tightly while I ran my hands down his back in soothing circles.
When I felt him relax against me, the tears subsiding, I moved him towards his side of the bed. I snagged the pillow, put it back in place and pulled back the covers. ‘Get into bed now.’
Without hesitation, he climbed in and lay on his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. I pulled the covers up and tucked him in. Then I went into the bathroom and rinsed out a face towel. I brought it out to him and sat down by the side of the bed.
‘Turn around, babe.’ I said. He turned slightly so that he was lying on his side and showed me a tear-stained and woebegone face. Gently, I wiped his face and eyes, folded the towel and wiped them again. I then leaned down and kissed his forehead.
‘Go to sleep now.’
His hand clutched mine as I started to rise, so I remained sitting next to him and slowly ran my fingers through his hair. ‘Close your eyes, baby.’
Obediently, the eyes closed but his hand still clung to mine, refusing to let go. I waited till the fingers relaxed and his breathing evened out, then disengaged my hand and flipped off the lights.
