The Older Man

Fourteen

When I got back I recruited my strong man to take the items I purchased into the apartment. He didn't complain. I think he could tell that I burned all my strength hauling the items into the truck. I wanted to ask for help, but it started to snow and I felt bad asking someone to help when it was so chilly. Plus, I was confident I could do it myself. 

I have always overestimated my physicality. In my brain, I'm six feet tall and ripped. But, the 8X10 behemoth of a rug proved that I am, in fact, a small and puny woman. This ticked me off because I know that other women weren't so weak. I should start lifting weights. Maybe if I'm a beefcake I'll be able to get retribution and show the rug who's boss. 

"A little more right." I took a sip of my glass. Elijah huffed and moved the rug. He was huffing and puffing. It was fair since we'd (he) been decorating the apartment since I got back. This was the last order of buisness and I could tell by the look on his face that his hangover was getting to him. "Perfect!" 

He smiled like a man who's mind is all cloudy. I'm sure he was thinking of all the ways he was gonna get me back for all the labor I forced him through. It's not my fault that he had terrible taste in decor. He walked over to me and puckered his lips. Who was I to say no? 

"The place looks a lot nicer. You have a good eye for design." He pet my hair. His grey shirt was almost black in the pits and the crew neck was rimmed with his sweat. His hair was all curly and sweaty. His cheeks were all rosy. I loved the color that danced along his skin. It was a sight to behold. In this outfit--heather grey tee and old midwash levis--he looked so young. His feautures were smooth with no creases of tension or stress. He look his age for once. The sheer layer of sweat added to effect of youth. He looked like a young man. A man with no obligations.

"You look so handsome." It was said compulsively, but I didn't want to take it back. Not when his cheeks turned crimson and he bashfully looked at his feet. "Why don't you dress like this all the time?" 

He sighed and walked over to the fridge. I pivoted and sat down on a barstool. In the silence, he grabbed a beer and opened it. He took a sip before putting it down on the counter and acknowledging my question. 

"I'm always in the office. And when I have days off I always end up in the office. It feels pointless to dress comfortably." The youthful sparkle faded. Filling the void was disapointment and longing. His job was extremely demanding and Elijah was only one person. He worked so hard. He desereved to have these moments of weightlessness and liberty. 

"You're the boss aren't you?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You make the rules. Start having a causual Friday or something. Wouldn't it be nice to be in comfortable attire?" 

His eyes left me and he went somewhere far away. I wish I could tell you where he went. In these moments I couldn't tell how he was feeling. It happened a lot. Especially when I talked about school. He'd get the same sad look in his eye and he'd go far away. 

"What if they don't take me seriously? I mean, shit, I'm a kid compared to half of them. If I come in like this I'll look like some young shmuck." I didn't realize he was so sensitive his co-workers perception. I understood what he meant, though. In a management position, you didn't want to give your subordinates a reason to undermine your authority. At the same token, seniority should and does not make someone a more legitamate leader. 

"Elijah, you're 29. You're not 20 or something. There are plenty--though few--people who are the same age as you and in the same level of power. Plus, age doesn't make a person more entitled to a higher position. In fact, this might actually make you more likeable since you'll become more human. I love the suits. But, you're so stiff and formal in them. And from what I saw, at work you're authoritarian."