"Easy in but not easily out, as the lobster said in the lobster pot!" ― C.S. Lewis
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Almost pt. 8
Mistakes, I've made a few. But this?
While Benjamin Harrison was quickly dressing from his shower, Sharon popped her head thru the door to his office, "Sir, the office of the President is the phone. They understand you may be busy now, but they are requesting you be available for a call from the President at 8:00 this evening. Can I confirm that as a yes?"
Son-of- a-Trump. Donald wasn't wasting anytime calling in that favour. Still buttoning his shirt, he replied without looking at Sharon, "Tell them I will be expecting the call at 8:00. And Sharon I want you in my office as usual. Anything else?"
"No sir. I will convey your message. Is there anything you request, Mr. Harrison?"
Pulling up his trousers up and buckling his belt, he turned and looked at Sharon, "Sharon, I just want to say I'm sorry for my behavior earlier and that..."
Before he could finish Sharon replied, "Mr. Harrison, please sir, if I may speak frankly. You must understand as far as I am concern you have done nothing to apologize for. I take whatever work related activities as what they have always been. Confidential. Sir, what ever I offered to you, is yours and yours alone. Anytime. Anywhere. I think you would agree, I more than anyone would be able to evaluate and understand the stress you are under daily running this empire of yours. It is a simple demonstration of my appreciation to you as my employer. You are my employer and I am your employee. Nothing more."
Benjamin hard eyeballed Sharon and saw before him the same professional personal assistant he'd always known. Very well, he didn't have time for this conversation anyway. "Fine. And Sharon, tell my wife I will be with her shortly." With that comment, Sharon knew she was being dismissed and left.
Benjamin Harrison was a master of his domain who knew the way, went the way, and showed the way. This quality of his leadership was reflected in the standards he set for himself. That involved daily keeping everyone who worked directly beneath him focused on their jobs and motivated to do their best to achieve it. When the stakes were high, and the consequences really mattered, it was always about laying the groundwork for others' success, and then standing back and letting them shine.
But this came at a price. That price was the supreme quality of unquestionable integrity. For the first time in his life that integrity was being tested in a way he could never have imagined. Son-of-a-bitch! His hands were tied with Sharon's offer of servitude. He could not, nor would not let her go.
Sharon was not only a world class personal assistant, she was his go to person to bounce ideas off. She was given the task of parroting those same ideas back which allowed him to determine the validity of his decisions. Ditching 4 to 7 out of every new 10 ideas, this unlikely partnership prevented more than a BILLION in potential loss to never occur. This one skill alone had made her invaluable to him as an employee.
Unfortunately, it was a one-way street. He couldn't read her at all. When Sharon went down on her knees and offered himself to him, Benjamin Harrison had an out of body experience for the first time in his life.
Now that he had tasted forbidden fruit, or more like had his face rubbed in it, he was struggling. Thoughts he had never entertained before had been activated in his subconscious to his conscious.
He could use her anyway he wanted. Damn! The fucked up weird shit flowing through his mind listening to Sharon dismissing his apology had planted a tiny seed itself in the forefront of his mind. If he didn't consult Jacklyn soon, he was afraid he may not at all. And that would be a very bad decision.
Looking in his office bathroom mirror he closely his examined appearance. But who would know? Certainly not an idea to seriously entertain. Once last look over then time to meet Jacklyn.
...
Cheryl was feeling ill. Her mother one time explained that this could happen under certain circumstances. She felt nauseated and wanted to throw up. She and Brian returned to the apartment and had both lost interest fooling around. Brian could see something was wrong and with concern asked what was up, "Cheryl? Honey, are you ok? You don't look so well."
"Oh Brian, I just need to lay down a while. Alone. I need to rest a bit."
Brian wasn't buying that, "Cheryl, sweetheart, do you need anything?" Then more serious, "No games, what's up?"
Cheryl looked up at the love of her life, his concern, touched his face gently and smiled, "I love you so much Brian. I just need to lay down a bit. K? I just need some alone time now to lay down and rest."
Brian knew she was holding something back. That couple thing. "Fine, go lay down sweetie, but shout out if you need anything. I mean that. I love you too. K?", replied Brian with firm resolve.
Cheryl hugged Brian, kissed him on the cheek and walked down the hall to Brian's bedroom. Once there she closed the door, sat on the bed, and called her mother. When her mother answered the phone, Cheryl broke down and started softly crying, "Oh Mum, I feel so sick now I want to die. I don't know what's happening, but nothing feels rights."
Samantha's mother felt concern for her daughter, but not a lot. This would pass. It was what happened sometimes when you given the "gift". It was an occupational hazard. Samantha came from 6 previous generations of women blessed with the gift. The gift of "Match Making". And Cheryl was the strongest and most powerful match maker from her family line.
Cheryl had never been wrong. Since the age of 5 years old, Cheryl had successfully matched 26 couples. Perfectly. No bad marriages had ever resulted from her efforts.
Cheryl's mother witnessed her daughter's first successful match. The little girl had no idea why she did what she did, but at a home party her parents were throwing she saw a young man standing in the corner of the room by himself. He looked a bit lost, a bit lonely and was nursing a drink. Cheryl's mother watched carefully as the next scene unfolded before her eyes.
Cheryl walked over to the man. He hadn't even noticed her until she was pulling on his pant leg. The man looked down and with a great big smile said, "Hello little girl. I'm Bill. What's your name?"
Cheryl's mother observed what was happening and her heart started beating faster. It couldn't be. Cheryl was simply too young. The gift didn't kick in until puberty. This was impossible. Still...
Cheryl smiled up at the man, grabbed the index finger of the man's left hand and with both hands pulled with all her strength, "Come. Come."
To the man, the little girl was amusing. "And where are we going sweetheart."
With Cheryl's limited vocabulary to express that she had no understanding why she was doing what she was doing, she simply replied again while pulling harder by leaning back, "Come...I will show you!"
The "gift" was a personal thing, impossible to describe. It would be easier to explain colors to the blind than explain the gift. The gift was an oddity of nature. And the gift was good.
The man quite amused, perplexed, and more than anything else, a little embarrassed, allowed himself to be pulled through the party by the little Cheryl until he was on the opposite side of the large room. There sitting on a sofa was a young woman sitting alone with a drink in her hand. She too was alone, scanning the room for nothing important, appearing somewhat bored at everything.
At that point, Cheryl brought the man directly in front on the woman sitting. He looked down, brought his right hand up to the back of his neck. The young woman looked up at him. Both exchanged the same confused expression of this unexpected introduction. Little girl Cheryl pulled again on the man's finger to get his attention and said with her little girl authority, "Come on. Sit now...sit!"
The man looked down apologetically at the young woman, "hey, I'm sorry about this..." turning his head to point at the other side of the room, "this little girl, brought me over here and I'm not sure why..."
Cheryl pulled hard on the man's finger again commanding, "Come on, sit!"
The young woman found the precious little cutie amusing. Turning to look at the man again smiled and said, "I guess you should sit at bit then.''
And so, he did. A year later they married.
From that point forward Cheryl's mother counted 26 matches her daughter made. PERFECT MATCHES. No one in their entire family history had that success rate. Each was a cruise missile that could hit it's target accurate within 3 feet, 10 thousand miles away. Cheryl was only 25. With 26 successful matches under her belt, her mother was waiting for the one that would flop. Cheryl's mother had her share of failed match making experiences. Each failed match was followed by the same symptoms Cheryl was experiencing.
A failed match resulted in a type of morning sickness. It was a sickness borne from a perfect couple truly meant to live a life of, "happily ever after", by rejecting one another. A perfect union of "soul mates" who self destruct.
Soul mates would never do anything to harm the other. They were soul mates. These "break ups" happened when one partner felt themselves unworthy. Wasn't common. Wasn't uncommon. Shit happens in the Magic Kingdom everyday. One partner would walk away from a match created by divine providence. A rip in the fabric of nature. That's where the sickness came from.
These "matched" relationships, once sealed by the commitment of marriage, would ensure those children borne from such a matchmaker to meet another generation of match makers. It was Dan's father and mother who was introduced by such a match maker that destined Dan to the benefit from the in finding his true soul mate. Dan hit the lottery of all lotteries. The down side?
