Chapter Thirty-Four
Kelli
On the next morning, I finally came clean to Renee about what had happened between me and Zack.
We were sitting in the corner booth of a boutique coffee shop on Tenth Avenue, eating soft scrambled eggs and cinnamon-glazed bagels—she had all but given up on her diet in the last couple days since breaking up with Max. Rain lashed the windows, and outside a howling wind tore umbrellas from pedestrians’ hands. Overhead the pale amber bulbs in their brass fixtures did little to illuminate the midday gloom.
“I’d never seen him that angry before,” I told her. “It wasn’t the kind of anger where he yells and threatens you. That kind of anger is scary, but it has a way of diminishing the one doing the yelling, making them look smaller. He got really quiet and told me to pack my bags. Somehow it was way scarier.”
Renee took a sip of her macchiato. “I remember Dad used to do that when we were little. That’s how I would know I had crossed a line, not when he yelled when he whispered.” She shivered.
“Yeah, so those were the last words he ever spoke to me.” I glanced sadly at our reflections in the dim window. “I’ve never had a relationship end so abruptly, like a balloon that someone punctured with a needle. If you’d told me twenty minutes before that I would be on a plane back to New York within the hour, I’d have thought you were joking.”
“I can’t imagine being that impulsive,” said Renee. “He probably regretted sending you away the moment you were gone.”
“If he was that worried about that, then surely he would have called or answered my texts by now. I have to assume he was being serious, and he really doesn’t want me in his life. But I’m still not even sure what was so bad about what I said.”
Renee shrugged. The rain was getting louder, and she had to raise her voice to be heard over the gale. “I mean, who knows with some people? I’ve known women get mad at me because they didn’t like the kind of pants I was wearing. Some folks are just easily offended and irrationally angry, and it’s got nothing to do with you; it’s just how they are. Honestly it’s probably best that you figured it out now.”
“I guess,” I said with a shrug. “But there’s always a part of me that blames myself, even when I know in my head I did nothing wrong. If someone I really cared about me is mad at me, then there has to be a reason, right? But that’s not always the case. Sometimes they’re just mad.”
There was a shelf full of old board games standing in a corner of the shop. Renee grabbed Trouble and brought it over while I finished the last of my cream cheese.
“I haven’t played this game since we were in Mogadishu,” she said, opening the box like it was some sacred relic. “And if I’m not mistaken, it was raining then, too.”
“So anyway,” I said, shoving my plate away. “Now I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
“Are you still going to write that article?”
I watched as she took the board out of the box. “I don’t really see the point anymore. Zack’s response was so hurtful that I sort of lost interest. I know at some point I’ll have to explain to Evan that I don’t want to write it, and then he’ll be pissed. It just feels like men are impossible to please.”
Renee frowned, a pained look on her face. “I know Zack’s opinion was important to you, but you can’t let it control you. If you really wanted to write this article, then you should write it.”
“I guess.” I watched as she removed the totems and arranged them on the starting square. “What are you going to do now that you and Max are finished?”
“Well,” she said, “now that I have all this free time on my hands, I’ve been thinking about maybe starting my own yoga studio. How would you like to be my partner and co-manager?”
I had to laugh at the earnestness on Renee’s face. “That sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I replied.
Renee shrugged in defeat. “Well, it was worth a shot.”
By the time we had finished our first round of Trouble, it was almost 11:00am. I tried texting Evan a couple times to let him know I was stranded and wouldn’t be able to come in until later. But when he didn’t respond, I was forced to hail a cab.
I spent the next twenty minutes in traffic while the rain fell miserably down around us. I knew it was best if I didn’t put off telling him I had given up on his pet project; I’d have to let him know when I reached the office. I had no idea how he was going to react. He had been dangling the lure of a promotion in front of me, and at this point, I would almost certainly never get it. I gazed sadly out the window at a girl in a pleated skirt and neon-pink rain boots who was skipping up the street, heedless of puddles. I had never seen anyone enjoying herself so much. I hadn’t even known it was possible.
I descended into the basement at noon to find Dennis half-buried under a blanket with a space heater at his feet while Evan sat at his desk under the drain pipe looking increasingly harassed by the constant drip-drip of water from overhead.
“My kingdom for a DeliWorld sandwich and a pair of headphones,” he muttered in irritation. “I understand this was how the Chinese used to torture people, and it was arguably more effective than waterboarding.”
“If it rains anymore, this basement is going to be under three feet of water.” I pulled up the one empty chair in the room and sat down. “Maybe we ought to consider going home for the day.”
Evan ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of agitation. “You know when you come in an hour late and immediately ask to go home, it doesn’t exactly reflect well on you.”
“If you think that’s bad, wait till you hear what I have to tell you.” Evan raised an inquisitive brow. “I’ve thought long and hard about the offer you made me—”
“Don’t say it—”
“And I’m afraid I can’t accept for personal reasons. I’m already sort of notorious in the military community for being a ‘traitor’ and whistleblower, and I don’t want to sink my reputation any further.”
Evan buried his face in his hands. “Do you know how much I was counting on this?”
“I do, and I’m sorry. I realize my previous experience made me seem like the perfect person to write this exposé, and in theory that’s true. But I have to take my own feelings into account. I’m not just a machine that spits out essays, but a woman with a life of her own to look after. Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s how it is.”
By the time I’d finished speaking, my hands were shaking. I sank back into the chair, feeling exhausted, and coolly waited for his response.
“You really haven’t been helping yourself out lately,” said Evan with a shake of his head.
“Well,” I said quietly. “I can’t please everyone.”
“No, but you could try to put in some actual work, sometime.” He waved me away. “Go on, go back to your desk. I have a lot to get done today, and you’re not making my job any easier.”
I stood up and returned to my desk. Dennis lifted his blanket just long enough to flash shocked eyes at me, then promptly lowered it again. I pulled the last of my bagel out of my purse and finished eating it thoughtfully, feeling simultaneously proud of myself for defending myself and worried about losing my job.
My one consolation was that at least I didn’t have kids, or a husband, or even a boyfriend to look after. I could find another position pretty easily if I needed to, and I would probably have to. I remembered something Zack had once told me back when we were still dating: “This job is beneath you,” he had said, and before I could get angry, he added, “You deserve so much better than this.” Looking back on it now, I realized he was probably right: it would be a mercy when Evan finally let me go.