My First Love is a Whore

Christopher

"Goodbye, sir!" 

That is the second time I heard that, and it still does not make sense to me. 

"Sir!" Rita said again, but it sounded more like yelling. 

I lifted my left hand from my table to check the time from my Graff Diamond's Hallucination wristwatch. 

"It's 3:15 pm," I asked, surprised she was leaving that early. 

"It is Friday, sir," Rita responded with a frown boldly engraved on her face. She has to remind me all the time. 

"Oh! It's Friday!" 

I hate Fridays. It reminds me of how miserable my life is outside work. I will have to endure the horrible weekend again until I resume living on Monday morning. 

"I'm leaving, sir,"  The tiny voice echoes continuously in my ears. 

I wonder why she still works with me if she hates me so much already. I don't blame her. I would hate myself if I were in her shoes. This is the hundred and one times I would be ignoring her. And sometimes, it is intentional.  

"And what did we say about knocking, Rita?" I stared directly into her big eyeballs. 

"I did, sir. I came in after knocking several times with no response." 

I bet she did. I must have been engrossed in what I was doing that I did not hear her knock. With me, however, that is not enough justification. I wouldn't say I like an intrusion, and she knows that. I don't particularly appreciate seeing her around, either. 

Rita is a lovely girl and a diligent secretary. Left to me, she would not be working with me but for business purposes. 

She has been a lot of help since my assistant employed her. He had to relieve himself of so much burden I put on him. But his reason for hiring a female secretary was purely economic. 

Every man loves a round, curvy, robust, fair, beautiful lady except me. I don't like women. I have never been attracted to them. No man would after meeting my mother. 

Dr. Martins suffered greatly at the hands of my mother. It seemed like an endless battle until frustration set in and robbed him of his life. He does not deserve that. So does any man. 

"Sir," I heard the tiny voice again. 

I just did it again. Rita has been standing by the door waiting for me to approve her leaving. 

"You can leave" I tried to hide my guilt from reflecting in my tone. 

"Thank you, sir," she said with a smile. 

I did not see her face, but I'm very sure she smiled. She does that all the time. I don't know if she was trained to smile always or if it is just her person to smile even in distress.