Tuesday, January 5, 2010
ADMITTING YOU’VE BEEN A massive dick isn’t the easiest pill to swallow. But together, Blake and I were taking steps to clean up the messes we’d made.
On Tuesday, I finally went into the brewery. I’d worked from home on Monday and set up a few sales calls for the month, but I needed to go in and do some year-end paperwork that I should have done, well before year-end, but it was what it was.
I was apprehensive when I pulled in and saw Aly was there, but something about the way Blake stepped up and laid it all out for her parents and her brother made me feel like I needed to do the same thing. I owed it to her. I owed it to Aly. I owed it to me.
It was a new year and my dick got hard thinking about how, already, so much had changed. It felt fresh and clean and there was so much to look forward to.
In the same spirit as Blake had with coming clean with her family, I wanted to start the year off on the right foot. That began with swallowing my pride and apologizing to Aly.
“I’m not proud of how I treated you,” I admitted from behind my desk in my office. I had called her in when I saw her pass by. She looked annoyed and a little smug, which I expected, because deep down she really cared for me. That was the truth. Even though she pretty much took advantage of a really shitty situation when she came to my house, I shouldn’t have done what I did. And although I loved how things were turning around, using Aly to make Blake jealous publicly at my brother’s wedding, wasn’t the coolest thing I’d ever done. But I worked it and—thank fuck for me—it might’ve all been for the best. But for Aly, it probably wasn’t.
She sat cross-legged in the chair facing me and watched me expectantly.
“I owe you an apology for Christmas and New Year’s Eve. What it boils down to is, I used you and it was wrong.” It was an awkward conversation to have, but a necessary one. I watched the light on my desk phone glow with an incoming call, but I ignored it. What I had to say took precedence over business.
After I began speaking, her mood shifted and she refused to make eye contact with me, but then she finally said, “Don’t worry about it.” Her posture stiffened, putting up a tougher exterior, having realized I didn’t call her in for the reasons she may have thought. Of course, I was speculating, but I’d known her a long time. And unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time I’d had to start a conversation I knew she’d rather not be a part of. History had proven she only heard what she wanted anyway, but I continued.
“We work together. We are going to run this business together someday, I think. And most importantly, we’re friends. And I’m sorry.” Her focus was on the floor in front of my desk. It became too tense and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Aly, please say something. You have to talk to me about this. We need to get it all out. Otherwise, it’s just going to fester and get worse.” I leaned back in my chair a little. It wasn’t the best place for a discussion like that, but I didn’t want to lead her on further by asking her to go and meet me somewhere.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Casey.” She stood up and it looked like she was going to walk out the door, but it wasn’t like her to leave like that. And when she closed my door and then came around my desk, I knew shit was about to get real.
Sitting on the papers I had stacked up in front of me, she leaned toward me. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tightly pinned bun thing. Like always, she was put together. Makeup. Dress. Heels. The whole nine yards.
“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say here, Aly,” I clarified as I pushed my chair back to get some space.
She leaned in even more. “I’m not sorry about it. Any of it, really. I’m glad you used me. I’m glad you took me to the wedding, and I’m really glad you finally came to your senses and left that bitch standing there. Maybe she’ll finally learn her lesson and be a good little wife like she should be.”
Every hair on my body stood at attention and random muscles throughout my body began to twitch. She was so wrong. How different the night looked from her point of view, just proved how warped the relationship between Blake and I looked on the outside. How it must have always looked to everyone around us.
“You don’t know everything, Aly. You only saw part of it.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t leave with her. She followed her husband. I watched out the window. You left.” She smiled like a pageant contestant after answering a question without blunder.
“I came back. Grant left without her. She’s leaving him,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I thought better, realizing I should have left Blake out of it. The conversation was supposed to be about the things I’d done wrong—with regards to Aly—and seeing if there was a way the friendship between Aly and I could survive or if we’d just be co-workers and partners.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do if things couldn’t move forward with us professionally, but I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with that. However, her sitting in front of me on my desk was a clear indication she still thought there was hope for us in some messed up way.
She laughed as she said, “She’s leaving him? And you’ve thought that how many times?” I couldn’t sit there anymore. The whole thing was fucked up.
Was eight thirty a.m. too early to start drinking?
“You know what? This was a bad idea,” I said as I walked to my door. I wasn’t going to participate in this cat and mouse game she liked to play. Not at work and not right then.
“She’s never going to leave him, Casey,” she announced matter-of-factly as she stood and headed toward me. I swung the door as wide as it would go and propped it open with an empty mini-keg I had in my office.
“I’m not talking about this with you. I wanted to apologize for being a prick. That’s all. The rest is none of your business. End of conversation.”
“Oh, end of conversation? See, even you know she’s just playing you. You just don’t want to admit it.” Aly was quickly pissing me off. What the hell did she know?
“Well, she already left him,” I said, probably a little louder than necessary.
“She did? That’s great.” Her phony smile reminded me why things with us never worked out. She mocked me with a snotty nodding of her snide face.
“Goodbye, Aly. I’ll have the rest of my end-of-year papers done before I leave,” I said, my faux professional voice matching her debutant smile.
She paraded out my door a few steps, then turned and probed, “So where is she then? Your honeybee. I wonder who she’s buzzing around now, because I don’t see her. If you’ve fooled yourself into thinking that her husband is the only one she’d be unfaithful to, you’re just as delusional as he was.”
What. A. Bitch. Why the fuck did I ever date her?
Propping the door open was a poor choice. I moved the little keg and promptly shut the door.
When do I leave San Francisco again?
I worked on my receipts and expenses until long past business hours. I’d only left for long enough to grab a sandwich down the street and the entire time I wanted to text Blake. I refused to admit that what Aly said had gotten under my skin. She was only trying to be vindictive, and some of that I most likely deserved because of how I’d treated her. I’d never intentionally hurt her, but she had no problem being a bitch to me on purpose.
It had been Bay Brewing Company’s best year ever. We were being served in almost every local pub and our national accounts just seemed to grow and push east through the country. I was proud of the work I’d done over the last few years, but if I ever had to do that much paperwork again, I was quitting and going back to the brewery floor. Projections. Gain reports. Loss business reports—luckily those were few. Travel expenses. Donations. Samples. Write-offs. Blah. Blah. Fucking blah.
I needed a vacation.
It was just after six thirty while I was scanning the last of my account reports to myself, standing by the copier, when I texted her.
Me: I hate paperwork.
Me: My head hurts and I need a beer.
By the time I stapled the hard copies in organized groups and got back into my office, I finally felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
Honeybee: Work was crazy here, too. I know I was just off for a few weeks, but I need a vacation. That would only make everything worse though.
Or would it? Things were slower around the brewery during January, and with opening up a few new production lines, we were caught up having the holidays behind us.
Maybe a vacation was a good idea.
I wondered if she’d go for it. I sat at my desk and immediately began a search. It was winter. So almost anywhere in the US would be cold, which boded well for indoor activities, but I was suffering a bout of cabin fever on top of everything else.
I hastily made a list of priorities: sand, water, Blake in a bikini, taking Blake’s bikini off, beers—we must have beers. Then I was sidetracked and opened a bottle—one of the new test brews I had in my mini-fridge—and set back to the task at hand.
Hawaii? No.
Bahamas? No.
Mexico? No.
Then, I saw a picture. It looked like paradise. Beaches. Waterfalls. Private hot tubs near the ocean. Yep. I was fucking sold. I needed that. She needed it just as bad.
She’d told her parents a few nights before. Everything. From the first night through to the wedding, and everything that led to New Year’s Eve. She’d called me right after, and I was shocked when she didn’t seem too upset. She’d admitted she was relieved. Even though they weren’t exactly impressed with how much she’d kept to herself and how she’d treated Grant, they couldn’t argue with her not being in love with him. They supported and comforted her, saying that if her heart wasn’t there, then it just wasn’t. They invited her to stay at their house until she got it all figured out.
She didn’t get overly emotional when she retold me how it went down, until she got to the part where her mom said that she’d always wished she’d talked to Blake more before the wedding after what she’d heard us say.
“My mom feels bad she didn’t make me talk to her that day. But she thought that since I told you to leave, I wanted to marry Grant. She said she hadn’t heard everything we’d said to each other, only the louder parts, but assumed if I really didn’t want to get married, I would have called it off,” Blake had explained. Looking back, it would have been confusing had she not heard the quieter things we’d confessed to each other that shitty day.
Blake said that had been the hardest part, but it was like a fog had lifted while talking to them and being honest about what she really wanted. They just wanted her happy.
She only talked to Grant via email. Knowing what I did about how they communicated, and how conversations happened more between their inboxes anyway, it was nothing new. Apparently, her message was brief, saying she was moving out and she, her dad, and Shane would be by later in the week to get most of her things.
She told me that finding an apartment was on her shortlist of tasks to do. I wanted her to come here. I said that I’d help her, but she maintained she was going to get an apartment until everything was final.
I didn’t like that, but as we’d never really dated publicly, and I hadn’t even met her parents, I couldn’t really ask her to move in, even though that was what I’d wanted most. The crazy part was, I didn’t feel so out of control about any of it. We were talking more than we ever had and calling whenever we wanted.
No hiding. No waiting.
What Aly said couldn’t be further from how I felt. She didn’t know Blake and she was only trying to cause trouble. I didn’t see Blake as a cheater. She was with me. The things we’d both done were because we couldn’t fight the pull bringing us together. Over and over. And talking to her as much as I was only confirmed that.
Having the open line of communication made me feel less crazy. It was a revelation going to sleep and not worrying about what she was doing. Not thinking about her next to somebody else while she slept. It was fucked up. With some of that tension and stress gone, it allowed me to think a whole lot clearer about how dead-on she’d been about doing this the right way. The right way meant being honest and not rushing, impulsively making decisions that affected more than just our lives.
But sitting in my office, after everyone else had left for the day, I just craved to be with her for the first time where we could relax a little. I wondered if our relationship would be different.
I mean, she wasn’t divorced yet. Yet. But she had an appointment with her family’s lawyer next week after he got back from a business trip. Things were moving forward. I could feel it.
But I needed her. I wanted her. I wanted just the two of us to get away. Find a page we could be on together and go from there.
The only thing was convincing her to go. “I need to make her an offer she can’t refuse,” I thought in my best Godfather inner voice. I was, after all, a godfather.
Me: I have a present for you.
Honeybee: If it’s another picture of a guy with a micro-penis again, I’m going to be very disappointed.
Me: No. It’s better. It’s a real present.
Honeybee: What is it? I want it. I hope it’s a one-way ticket to somewhere tropical and they have fruity drinks with umbrellas.
Fuck yeah. It couldn’t have gone any better. It was like selling water in the desert.
Me: What if it was?
Honeybee: When do we leave? Ha. Ha.
But it wasn’t a joke. I was ready to buy tickets and confirm reservations somewhere precisely like that.
Me: When could you leave?
Honeybee: Don’t tease.
Me: Are you at your parents’ house yet?
Honeybee: No. I haven’t even left work. I’m finishing up the last revisions on a revamped menu, and then I’m heading out.
Me: Anyone there with you?
It was impulsive, and I could’ve found a much better price had I used a travel agent. I’d become pretty good at arrangements given how much I traveled. I could book a hotel, flight, and car in ten minutes—if push came to shove. I’d figured out the location of the first picture that caught my eye and found the nearest resort. Costa Rica.
Honeybee: Just a few chefs in the kitchen, but I’m at my desk.
I dialed her number without hesitation. This was happening.
“So when can you leave?” I asked instead of saying hello when she picked up.
“What’s today? Tuesday? I could leave Thursday.” Blake laughed. She wasn’t going to fight me at all. Hallelujah. Then she added, “I have to send this off in the morning. Then I have a phone conference to confirm some transition dates. I think we’re going to the house tomorrow night for my stuff.”
“Can you really take off work?” I inquired. Her bosses were great. I think they were a lot like Marc had been before I bought into Bay Brewing, with respect to time off. If your shit was done, have at it.
“Yeah, I’ve got plenty of time. Would I be able to check my email?”
First I thought about telling her no, but then I figured saying yes would buy me a few extra days. So, I caved. Surprisingly, we were full of fucking compromises.
“Sure, whatever you want,” I assured her.
“Where are we going?” Finally, a card I could hold.
“I’m not telling you yet. I’ll email you your flight info later.”
I wanted to make sure we got the same flight out. I had a little travel magic to make happen.
“Okay. I’m excited.” And she truly sounded it. It felt so fucking good to hear her sing-song voice, so eager and relaxed. It only confirmed to me that she needed a break as much as I did.
But what I needed more was to feel like I was making her happy.