Factory Managers
by Eli Dupree

(TRIGGER WARNING)

"Shirley Forber," I said, and shook his hand. "I'll be your supervisor." He gave me the usual look, so I added, "Get used to it."
I turned and walked towards the rows of machines, expecting him to follow. I did not care about him. It was just one of the joys of my job - "building a professional relationship with my subordinates," which is to say that I greet them and then make sure they know they have to do what I say.
I heard a voice behind me mutter, "Why is she even here?" I spun around and advanced on the speaker. He was standing with a group of idling workers, but I could easily tell him by the way the others stepped away from him. Hah. I faced him until he was nervous before giving my answer.
"The same reason you are," I said. "And next time you want to make a snide comment, wait until I'm out of earshot, you hear?"
I started to move away and they relaxed visibly. Wait, wait...
"Why aren't you working?" I snapped.
They shifted. "Machine's broken," one volunteered. "Michael's fixing it." As usual, right? Probably a lie, but they can tell I'm busy. Fuck! I swung back towards my new charge... "As usual," I muttered.
"See this?" I asked him as we walked, waving at the scene around us. "This is industry. Thousands of machines working away towards some final goal. Thousands of men helping them along their way. If the machines stop working, we fix them. If the men stop working..." - here I leered at him - "We find new ones." (Stupid little speeches like that seemed to make them get the point more easily.) I said "some final goal" because I couldn't remember what we were building anymore. All you could see from here were so many useless pieces.

It was a lie when I said that I was here for the same reasons as that slacker. He was just there for the paycheck. I - well, sure, I needed the money, but for money I could have gone anywhere else but that hellhole. I was there because of Tony.
He'd said that he came here because he was sick of the city, to this dirty little town that only appears on half the maps and only has one workplace worth considering. I'd followed like a dog. I knew I still would if I had another chance.

Tony and I sat down together during a lull in the activity. We supervisors get to take a break occasionally. "Tell me some good news," I said.
"Well, the local newspaper stopped printing yesterday."
"This is good news?"
Tony said dryly, "No news is good news."
I smiled in spite of myself. "Oh, come on!"
"Well..." he thought for a moment, "Oh, of course - Derek's back from the hospital today."
And fuck, does that wipe the smile from my face. "Derek? That fucking--"
"Shh!"
"That's not good news!" I hissed. Tony didn't seem to get it. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with him! He just happens to rub up against me whenever he passes me! It's all a fucking coincidence!" I paused for breath. "And the things he says about me - he's half the reason I hate this place! Listen, it was good news to me when he got his fingers ripped off!"
"Shirley..."
I know that tone of voice... "And don't you fucking tell me there are worse things that could happen to me."
"I wasn't going to--"
"Oh yes you were." And I added bitterly, "What do you know about worse things anyway?"
Tony looked away. Yeah, turn away from me. You know I'm right.
There was another man standing next to me now, waiting. I turned to him and he started telling me about some damn problem that needed my attention. I couldn't be bothered listening, so I told him to show me there. He was still blathering as I followed him away.
Just before we were out of sight of Tony, I glanced back. He was staring after me, and there were tears sliding down his face. I hurried on.

He'd turned away to keep me from knowing I'd hurt him.

It started to hit me when I was driving home at my usual 10 mph over the speed limit. Oh, Tony, just why did I feel like I needed to say that to you? Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut? And why, why, why did I have to walk away from you? Fuck! I should have - I should turn around right now and find your house and tell you I'm sorry.
I didn't.
Why couldn't I have just acted like Derek's recovery was good news? Why couldn't I have at least pretended I wasn't glad he'd had that accident? Fuck, I'm still glad someone had their fucking fingers ripped off!
I turned a corner so fast that I was squashed up against the side of the car.
Cut the self-hate, Shirley. You're going to crash into something if you don't pay attention.
I slowed down. I relaxed my grip on the wheel. I didn't want to crash into anything.
Been there, done that. It wasn't remotely glamorous.

I pulled in to my apartment and took the elevator up to the second floor. The old woman who lives on the third floor was in the elevator with me, and I said something nasty to her. Why did I have to do that? Now she's going to complain to the landlord, and he'll hate me even more than he does now...
I made myself dinner mechanically and ate it without caring. I sat around for a while trying not to think, then dragged myself into bed. Then of course I couldn't sleep. Every time I got my head clear, the look on Tony's face intruded on my mind again...
I got up. It was dark out already. I started rummaging through my kitchen drawers, not sure exactly what I was looking for...
Oh, Shirley, aren't you a clever little bitch. Go on, pretend you don't know what you're looking for. Try all the wrong drawers first. Maybe this time you'll get bored and go back to bed! You're juuuust sleepy enough that it might work this time. You fucking optimist.
And then there it was in my hand, and it gleamed in the electric lights, and it sliced a crisscrossing pattern into the scar tissue all the way up my forearms.
"What do you know about worse things anyway?"
Slice.
You're such a fucking sensitive person, you know that?
Slice.
You thought Tony hadn't been through what you've been through? Seriously? You think your life is bad? Oh, that's a good reason to go and fuck it up for everyone else!
Slice.
And then, you're so clever, you go and say "What do you know about worse things anyway?"
Sliiiiiiiiiiiiice.

It was late that night when I finally hauled myself back into bed. Barely. I'd made myself so tired and sick that I wasn't even capable of cleaning up the blood I'd smeared on the furniture.

Someone was knocking at the door.
Fuuuuck.
I looked up. It was the next morning. It was eleven o'clock the next morning. I'd missed work.
I scrambled out of bed. I was still wearing everything I'd been wearing yesterday, complete with bloodstains.
The knock came again. I stumbled to the door and opened it. It was Tony. The first thing out of my mouth was "What are you doing here?"
He was taken aback. "Well, if you want me to go away..."
"No! Come in,"
Yeah, you can come into my room with the blood on the table...
"No, wait, stay here for a moment, I have to clean something up, it'll only be a moment," I babbled. Then I slammed the door on him and ran back inside.
One hasty cleaning job later, I was back at the door. I opened it, started to greet Tony with more composure, and then--
Hey! Shirley, wake up! You're still wearing a fucking short-sleeved shirt!
--slammed it on him again. I was breathing hard all of a sudden.

I finally let him in, and we stood there awkwardly.
"Are you going to offer me a seat?" he asked playfully.
"Sure, sit if you like," I said, but I didn't move. I was way too tense. He didn't move either.
Then his voice changed from joking to worried. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just surprised you're here."
"Why aren't you at work?"
"Overslept."
"You never oversleep!"
There was the slightest pause. It was too much for me. I blurted, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I shouldn't have said it, I'm sorry..."
"What?"
"Yesterday..."
"Oh... it's nothing; I should have known not to mention Derek, anyway..."
"That doesn't matter!" I screamed. "It doesn't fucking matter! Will you stop being so fucking understanding?!"
"How am I supposed to stop being understanding?"
"I don't care," I snapped. "Just do it!"

"Sometimes," he said, "Sometimes things happen that we don't want to happen, and no one listens to us and we just have to survive and move on."
"Where'd you pull that from?" I snapped. No! Not again...!
Tony stared at me. And then he whacked me across the face.
I fell against a wall, then slid down the wall and sat there. I put my hands to my face, and so my sleeves slid down, so that if anything hadn't been obvious to him already, it was now. He took my hand and looked at the marks on my wrists, and then he looked into my eyes and I stared back empty.
And then he knelt down beside me and then he put his arms around me and then he said "I love you."
I tried to tell him I loved him back, but I choked on the words. I realized that I was shaking. I curled up in his arms and sobbed.
When it was over, I knew I was going to be okay.

~(December 2008)