Escalation Recommended

At some point that afternoon, my daydreams of Jennifer climbing into my bed and having her way with me slipped into actual sleep. The dreams were vivid and messy, each one pushing my ambitions further than the last. In one she was still wearing that loose band t-shirt from earlier, only now it was hiked up around her waist while she straddled me. In another she was on her knees, green eyes looking up through her glasses, waiting for the next instruction. Every scene left me harder and more determined. By the time the last dream faded, I woke sticky and disoriented, the late-afternoon light already thinning across my bedroom ceiling.

The sound of plates and cutlery being set on the table finally pulled me all the way out of it. Normally I would have at least kept up the pretence of looking for work. I still sent out the odd resume and scrolled through job boards, but if I was honest with myself, belief had left me weeks ago. School had gone well. I had experience. None of it seemed to matter. The silence from employers had become its own kind of answer. So I did not feel especially guilty about napping the afternoon away. I did feel a little sticky, though.

"Dinner's almost ready, Dustin," Marcus called from the other side of the apartment.

"Thanks, bro!" I called back. "I'll be out in just a minute!"

Just a minute after I cleaned myself up. Thank God for wet wipes. I wiped down, changed into a clean shirt and jeans, and stepped out of my room smelling faintly of soap instead of sex.

The table was already set for three. Steam rose from a couple of hot plates in the middle. Jennifer stood at the kitchen counter in her usual uniform of oversized hoodie and grey sweatpants, chopping something on a cutting board. Marcus stood beside her, stirring a pot on the stove, the two of them moving around each other with the easy rhythm of people who had shared a kitchen for years. The sight still twisted something low in my gut, jealousy and want mixed together, but I kept the smile on my face as I walked over.

"Anything I can help with?" I asked.

Marcus glanced over his shoulder. "How about drinks? I'll have a beer. Jennifer, you want anything?"

"Just water," she said without looking up from the cucumber she was slicing.

"Two beers and a water, coming right up," I said, counting myself into the order. I pulled the bottles from the fridge, poured her water into a glass, and carried everything to the table.

Soon the food was out and the three of us were seated. Marcus took the head of the table. Jennifer and I sat across from each other. Instead of the usual scowl she reserved for me, she looked almost content, focused on her plate and on whatever quiet comment Marcus was making about the sauce. Normally dinner started with a list of my failures. A sock left somewhere. Dishes I had promised to do. Laundry I had ignored. Marcus would mediate. I would apologize. The whole routine left everyone exhausted. Tonight the air felt different, lighter.

Marcus noticed it too. After a few minutes of quiet chewing he looked between us and raised an eyebrow.

"You two aren't fighting tonight? That’s refreshing."

Jennifer set her fork down and reached for her water. "I don't feel like fighting. He knows what he needs to do around here. He'll get to it. No need for me to be such a bossy jerk about it."

Marcus's eyebrows climbed higher at that. I jumped in before the surprise could turn into questions.

"You're not a bossy jerk, Jennifer," I said. "And you're right. I'll get to it. We had a good talk earlier."

Marcus laughed, the sound warm and a little disbelieving. "I never thought I'd live to see it. Jennifer and Dustin getting along. It's a miracle."

"Not a miracle," I said. "Just grown-ups being grown-ups. Hey Jennifer, pass me the salt."

She did not hesitate. Her hand reached for the shaker and held it out across the table without a second glance. I took it, sprinkled some on my food, and kept talking like nothing unusual had happened.

"I know I've been slacking, and she's been right to point it out. But I think we're at the point where I actually get what she's trying to say. Hey Jennifer, pass me the pepper."

Again the motion was smooth, almost automatic. The pepper shaker crossed the table into my hand. Jennifer's expression stayed calm, focused more on her salad than on the small commands landing one after another.

"We’re fine," she told Marcus. "I'm just tired of the fight. He's an adult, and he says he's going to take care of things, so I believe him."

"Hey Jennifer," I said, keeping my voice casual, "pass me the salad."

The bowl slid across the table toward me. Marcus took a long drink of his beer and smiled, completely unaware.

"Whatever it is," he said, "it's a nice change of pace."

I served myself some salad and kept the pattern going in small ways. "Hey Jennifer, hand me another napkin, please."

She did.

"Hey Jennifer, refill my water too, please."

She reached for my glass without complaint. Each little request landed cleanly. The more ordinary they sounded, the less either of them seemed to notice. My phone vibrated once in my pocket, a short buzz against my thigh. I ignored it for another minute, finishing a bite of chicken, then set my fork down.

"Excuse me for a second," I said, standing. "Need the washroom."

Marcus waved me off. Jennifer simply nodded and went back to her plate. I walked down the short hallway, stepped into the washroom, and locked the door behind me. The phone came out of my pocket before the light even finished flickering on. A red badge sat on the app icon. I opened it.

Influence Level: Level One – 25%

Subject: Jennifer Carter

Progress: Progress slowed due to repetitive nature of commands. Escalation recommended.

I stared at the screen for a long moment, the blue light painting the small room. Twenty-five percent. The number was higher than before, but the warning was clear. Too many of the same soft requests and the growth would stall. If I wanted the hold to keep deepening, I would have to start asking for more. Not tonight. Not in front of Marcus. But soon.

I flushed the toilet for cover, washed my hands, and slipped the phone back into my pocket. When I returned to the table the conversation had moved on to some show they were both watching. Jennifer glanced up at me as I sat, and for a second her green eyes met mine without the old irritation. Just calm acceptance. I smiled, picked up my fork again, and let the evening continue. The real work could wait until morning.