Chapter 7: Women At Work

Katrina becomes dismayed at her new workload, wondering if she'll ever get any leisure time before her husband comes back.

"Yes? ...Yes? Huh. Okay then, I'll be there asap. Two days, tops... oi."

It's another day at the office for the Simmons-Vicciotelli family, as a somewhat slumber-deprived Katrina continues to work in her husband's place. She sits hunched in front of the desktop in the study, listening to the ticking from five different wall-clocks each representing a different timezone, and finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to go completely stir-crazy. Sporting a pair of thin, gold-framed reading glasses much like her son's as she manages the ever-growing family business empire. She's no stranger to helping Mark out with these things, and admittedly finds this line of work enjoyable at times, but ever since he left to serve in the war, she all of a sudden feels so swamped by it.

What's especially peculiar is the fact that even while Mark was present, he still did a majority of the work and even worked another, much less profitable job on the side in order to control the enlarged ego that would likely stem from being so rich. Though he had to stop doing the latter a few years after their kids arrived. It's a trait he's possessed ever since she first met him in San Francisco all those years ago, when she was a cab driver struggling to provide for her ailing mother, and he was still the last surviving member of his own family - just as wealthy as ever, but displaying an unusual sense of generosity and charitableness for someone of his class and status.

And yet, in spite of all that, he never seemed to be overwhelmed by everything on his plate. He still had plenty of time to maintain a social life and be a family man. It wasn't uncommon to hear stories of rich kids growing up with absentee parents and being raised by butlers and nannies, but the Simmons' did things differently. Since they were so rich, they could afford to take as much time off as they wanted in order to raise their twins, and even when work did come into play, they made sure there was at least one parent in the house at all times, with the other one making it home in time for dinner almost every night. Seeing their children graduate from high school and then college, and never missing a single holiday or wedding anniversary.

To this day, it still amazes Katrina how Mark could so effortlessly do that despite all the odds stacked against him. She's no stranger to hard work, having come from a working-class background, but the amount of work she's doing now far outweighs anything she ever did out west.

"Yo, Kitty!"

Katrina looks up from the computer to spot her older sister obnoxiously barging into the study, rolling a pair of beer-colored, gator-skin suitcases behind her.

"Priscilla, ya' do realize that only my husband's allowed to use that nickname, right?" she replies dryly.

"Whatever. Now before you ask, apparently Broadway shows don't make much money during wartimes, so I'm being let go until everyone comes back home. Looks like I'm gonna be crashing at your place for a good while," Priscilla responds. "And it's not often that I do this, so you're welcome."

"Yeah, well I think ya' may have picked a bad time. I'm currently swamped with Mark's workload since he obviously can't do it himself, and that includes a ton of business trips, includin' one just two days from now," Katrina explains.

"Mamma mia, you really are particular about all this," Priscilla chuckles. "Seriously, I thought all of Mark's businesses were doing fine."

"Yes, but several a'them just had to experience a bit of trouble now that their owner's overseas, so it falls on me to fix it. Wouldn't wanna piss Mark off... not that that's a very easy thing to do," Katrina continues, typing away at the keyboard.

"Still though, you need to lighten up a bit. I remember you always used to tell me the same thing all those years ago," Priscilla responds. "Besides, a little financial trouble never hurt anyone, at least not anyone as rich as you."

"Ugh, if you're just gonna keep badgerin' me, then ya' might as well quit it," Katrina grumbles. "Ever since he inherited all this wealth from his parents, Mark's been dead set on makin' sure he keeps everything they left him in tip top shape, while also remainin' as fiscally responsible as possible."

"Come to think of it, he is the only rich person I know who guarantees living wages and safe working conditions, and actually pays their taxes," Priscilla's voice briefly trails off. "Bah, whatever. If I can't change your mind, then I guess nothing will. If you need me, I'll be in my usual guest room making myself at home."

Katrina doesn't respond, continuing to work until she finds a good stopping-point. Once she does that, she briefly looks out the window, audibly sighing as she notices how Springtime is beginning to creep over Kicksburg, and how the days are slowly but surely lengthening. Almost every last trace of snow is gone, with the remaining clumps shoveled aside and over-saturated with dirt and tire residue, doomed to linger for another month or so. The air is thick with pollen, dying the sidewalks yellow and piling up on any cars unlucky enough to not be inside a garage. Not to mention there's so much of it floating around that it gets into your system and makes you cough, no matter your preferred breathing method.

It's probably still a tad chilly outdoors, but she would nonetheless give anything to go on a walk around town. Maybe stop in the park and do some of her work there on a laptop, which would at least provide a change of scenery if nothing else. But then again, the park is chock full of distractions that could keep her from knocking out a day's worth of work as quickly as possible. Katrina groans once again, deciding against going outside for the umpteenth day in a row and continuing to type and click, taking the occasional phone call and not getting up except to eat a snack or use the restroom.

It's well into the night when she decides she's gotten enough work done for one day and retires to her chambers. Without even bothering to fold back the sheets and comforter, she collapses forwards onto the mattress, feeling utterly helpless in her current state. Will Katrina ever get to have a social life again, preferably before Mark makes his return? Or is she doomed to spend her days like this for the rest of the war's duration?