Chapter Six
Joan stared at the CCTV. She could not believe what she had just heard. Vera screamed her name in the throes of passion, pretending that her own administrations were that of Joan. She felt an uncomfortable warmness between her legs. “Fucking hell Vera,” Joan muttered in anger.
Joan gathered her belongs, shut off the lights, and lock the door to her office. She needed to talk to someone, someone who could help her with her confusion.
At home, Joan changed into a pair of slacks and a grayish sweater. She needed a glass of vodka, maybe two. After the fourth glass, Joan realized her father sitting by the dining table. “When did you come in?” Joan asked. Her father said nothing but got up to move closer to Joan.
“What is wrong, Joan? You are upset,” her father spoke slowing and precisely, pronouncing each word with care, “you must never show that you are upset.”
“I am losing control,” Joan knew her father would be disgusted by her weakness.
“You will make mistakes when your emotions grow strong,” her father said, “you must always be in control of your emotions.”
Joan washed down another shot. Tonight, just tonight she wanted to be embraced by oblivion.