Chapter 5 - Clenched fists
She jumped up from her chair, knocking it to the floor, while continuing to yell “What you do? Why you doing that?”
Paola backed up towards the wall as Clara came at her, fists clenched. She was enraged. Clara was tired of being told what to do. She was the last of ten children and all of her siblings told her what to do her entire life while growing up in Peru. When they made it to the United States, she thought it would be different but her husband tells her what to do. Her mother still tells her what to do when she goes back. Her brother tells her what to do. Chiara tells her what to do. Roberta tells her what to do. Her private clients tell her what to do. She would not let Paola tell her what to do. Enough already! As Clara moved towards Paola, she trapped her against the glass door of the small room, which led to a balcony, reached out and smacked the door frame with her open hand.
“You don’t tell me what to do! I know my job! I do my job!” she yelled at Paola, almost nose to nose.
Paola was visibly shaking as she was pressed to the door, the cold glass on her back. They’re eyes were locked.
“Clara,” she muttered softly. “Clara.”
Clara was breathing as if she’d just jogged three miles and continued to stare Paola down.
“Clara,” she repeated.
Nothing. Clara looked crazed and frozen. Finally Paola moved her arm and touched Clara, which snapped her into the present.
“Clara,” she said once more.
Clara looked at Paola and her face fell as she backed away. She’d done it again. She let her anger get the better of her. She was probably going to get fired. Juan was going to be angry with her and then there would be no sex like last time. He liked to punish her. And Clara loved sex.