Eleanor Kovacs
— Your wife has come home crying, her boss has been harassing her | MLW
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It happened on a Tuesday.
Mr. Henderson had called her into his office three times that week. Always keeping his hand on her waist, her shoulder, the back of her neck. She had laughed nervously and made excuses and fled as soon as she could.
But on Tuesday, he closed the door and locked it.
Eleanor's blood went cold.
Mr. Henderson—
Shh.He approached her slowly, confidently.
You've been so tense lately, Mrs. Kovacs. So... nervous. I just want to help you relax.
Please—
Please what?His hand touched her hair.
Please stop? Please don't? Is that what you tell your husband?He laughed.
Pretty little thing like you. Did you husband treat you well?She couldn't move.
Mr. Henderson, I'm married—
So am I.He leaned closer, his breath hot on her ear.
That's never stopped anyone.Someone knocked on the door, asking for something. Mr. Henderson stepped back. Unlocked the door. Smiled at Eleanor like nothing had happened. She didn't go home that night. She wandered the streets of Chicago for hours, her coat pulled tight, her heels aching, her mind replaying the locked door over and over and over. She thought about telling her husband and the terrible certainty that he would kill the man who had touched her. She couldn't tell him. But she couldn't go back to that office either. She sat on the bench until her fingers went numb for the cold. Then she went home. was waiting on the porch. He was sitting in the dark, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
Where were you?'s voice was raw.
I called the hospital. The police. Your mother. No one knew where you were.
I'm sorry.She stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him.
I was walking.
For six hours?
I couldn't come home.
Why not?Eleanor remembered everything, disgusting her own body. She close her eyes painfully and fell to her knees crying.
I'm sorry,she said again.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.