Page 74 of Submissive Lies

I slept without waking that night. It was not a restful sleep, but I did not wake up crying multiple times as I had the night before. The next morning I drug myself down to the gym, forcing myself through my workout routine. When I finished I felt a sense of having accomplished something. Something for myself. Something that was good, not destructive. I went back to my room, cleaned up, grabbed a quick breakfast. I was back at the booth before the crew even arrived.

The convention center had changed already. The atmosphere was back to what it had been during the install, and not that during the show. The air conditioning had been shut off, and the humid air coming in from the dock doors settled back into the hall. The aisles were full of client crates and skids, and the sound and smell of forklifts moving about filled the space. As I stood inside the booth it stabbed at me; memories of everything that had started four days ago came flooding back. I clenched my hands, forcing thoughts and images down. No. No, not yet. Too soon. I still needed time, and space, and distance. I needed to be away from here, away from Chicago, back home. Then I could allow myself the luxury, if I could call it that, of giving in to all the emotions that wanted to overwhelm me. There would be time for that later. But not now.

“Ms. Jen!” Tony’s voice carried through the booth as he showed up with the crew a short time later. “You’re here early! I didn’t even see you come by the desk.”

I smiled at him. “I didn’t, Tony. I’m sorry. I just wanted to take a look and see where we’re at and go over a few things in my head.”

“Well, Keith and I were just talking about that, and we think you’re gonna be in good shape, Ms. Jen. I don’t see any reason you ain’t gonna be down and packed by this evening, if not sooner.”

Keith was nodding solemnly as Tony spoke, and I grinned.

“That’s good, Tony, because I have a 9am flight tomorrow morning, and I’d love to be on it. Much as I love Chicago and all…”

That got a chuckle out of the assembled crew, including Tony.

“Well, we love having you here, Ms. Jen, but we understand. We’re gonna make sure you ain’t gonna miss your plane.”

The crew lived up to Tony’s word. The day went by in a blur as the exhibit came down, and then packed away. I spent most of my time double-checking every crate before they sealed it up and then filling out and applying shipping labels to each once they were ready. At lunch we were more than halfway completed, and there seemed little to stop us from being done before the normal 5pm quitting time. I’d already heard discussions amongst some of the crew that they were eager to get the job completed; another exhibit that promised overtime was waiting, and they were eager to jump on that. By 4pm they had all the main exhibit properties disassembled and packed away. Keith approached me quietly.

“Ms. Boyd, I was wondering if you’d be okay if I cut a few of the guys to go on another call? All we have left is to pull up the carpet and pad, and I think me and a couple of the guys can handle that ourselves.”

I gave him an understanding smile. “I heard the guys talking earlier, Keith. It’s fine. Let them go get some OT. As long as you can finish off what’s left, we’re good.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, a slight grin coming over his normally serious face. “The guys’ll really appreciate that.” He motioned with his thumb towards them. “I’ll go let them know, and then we’ll start pulling up the carpet.”

I nodded as he headed off. We were in a good spot, and I’d little concerned with what we had left to do. Unless something fell apart, even with a reduced crew I knew we’d be done in plenty of time.

By 5:30 Keith and the three guys that had remained behind had finished everything. They’d rolled all the carpet, strapped the padding to the pallets, and all that remained was loading the pieces to onto the truck. Keith and the crew came up to me, toolboxes in hand.

“Ms. Boyd, unless you need us for anything else, we’re gonna bounce onto that other booth.”

“No, go, go.” I waved them off. “Everything here is done. Go make some real money.”

That earned another chuckle, and Keith stuck out his hand.

“Thanks, Ms. Boyd. See you next show.”

“Thanks Keith.” I smiled, taking his hand. “See you next show.”

They moved off, leaving me standing in the space where the exhibit had once been. Now it was just a congregation of packed crates and pallets. There was nothing for me to do but wait, so I moved and sat on the stacked carpet rolls, my feet dangling over the edge.

I looked around silently.

It was over.

Feet kicking back and forth, I gave into reflection. It was funny sometimes how something that ends up being the catalyst for a huge shift in your life can begin from such an innocuous event. I had come to Chicago for just another trade show, one of hundreds I had done in my career. It was supposed to be easy. Simple.

Life had other plans.

I would be leaving in the morning, heading home to yet another tectonic shift in my current life. One that was needed. Required. Long overdue. I could sit here now and realize that the underpinnings of what had taken place the four days I’d been here had started back home. Begun the night Thomas announced he understood what I wanted. That he was going to take care of me. ‘Fuck me hard.’ Back then I’d been frustrated with myself. With why I wasn’t happy. Why I couldn’t just be overjoyed and in love with a man like Thomas Kiernan — but I knew why now. The thing was, knowing that didn’t make it any better. I looked down at my feet, watching them as they swung back and forth in a slow arc. Pursing my lips, I bore down to stop tears that suddenly wanted to flow.

No.

No, that was wrong. It hadn’t started the day of Thomas’ discovery. It had started the day I’d said to myself I was over being sexually submissive. The day I had created that lie. The most painful lie of all, and I’d told it to no one other than myself. After that, the lies—the other lies—started piling on top of each other until we’d reached this moment. Lie after lie after lie, and a trail of bodies in their wake. I took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

And one more yet to go.

“These your crates?”

The voice startled me out of my thoughts. A gruff looking Teamster was standing to one side, paperwork in hand, his forklift idling nearby.

“Yes, they are.”

“Well, I’m here to take them. Anything special I should know?”

I looked around at them. Gazed at the now-empty exhibit space, the hall, everything I could see. I turned back, staring at him for a moment.

I shook my head.

“No. Not now. Nothing special at all.”

---