Frank
After nearly a full Sarah-less week, I realize just how empty my life is without her around. I love my job, but there’s nothing but work to look forward to. I love my apartment, but it feels empty without her energy filling the space. All too often since she left, I’ve sat at home, TV on, browsing on my phone after work. The evening passes without me noticing and time flies by with nothing to show for it. My mood suffers, brightening only when she texts me, which is often, but not often enough.
I’ve come to need her. To depend on her. She is the reason I smile.
As good as it feels to fall in love, and yes, I came to terms with the fact that I’m falling in love with Sarah the moment she stepped on that plane, I know I can’t place that kind of importance on someone. Ultimately, I am the one in control of my emotions, the one in charge of bringing myself happiness. If I let that task fall to her, then I’m no better than I was when alcohol started taking over my life.
I should love her without needing her.
I should need her without depending on her.
The warning signs are everywhere. I address the ones I can, but more crop up to take their place. I’m crumbling and I hate it. So, I throw myself into work, while I live for her texts. Her calls.
Things seem to be going well in Ohio. Her father is recovering, and she’s having deep, soul-bearing conversations with her family.
I listen and congratulate her but never once do I let on how I’m struggling.
Because that’s the last thing she needs.
I’m a grown man. I can carry this burden while she takes the steps she’s been running from for so long.
I just hope she comes back soon.
* * *
“Mr. Wilde?” Trish Juniper’s voice is tight. “Mr. Kent would like to see you in his office.”
I hold the phone away from my ear and stare at the receiver. It’s a strange request and warning bells jangle through my head. “Sure,” I say, after I put the phone back to my ear. “Just tell me when and I’ll clear my schedule.”
“Now.” Trish clears her throat. “He’d like to see you now.”
I promise to be right there, hang up, and grab my suit jacket before making the trip to Brian’s office. Trish smiles as I approach, though it’s tense and tight and nothing at all like her regular smile.
“Go right on in, Mr. Wilde,” she says, hiding behind formality. I nod once and push through the door into his office. After a night of too much TV and not enough Sarah, I’m not in the mood to handle whatever this is, but the look on Brian’s face tells me I need to get in the right mindset. And fast.
“I’ll do us both a favor and skip the pleasantries. Have a seat, Frank.” Brian gestures at a chair in front of his desk. He doesn’t smile. “Before I hired Sarah Carmichael, you assured me that the two of you were not romantically involved.”
I blink and lift my chin as adrenaline hits my system. This is about Sarah? I think of all the times we’ve been less than discreet about our relationship here at the office. I was so sure it didn’t really matter. So sure they wouldn’t dare reprimand me and risk losing one of their best players over a receptionist who wouldn’t be sticking around.
“I did,” I reply.
Brian’s face stays stoic, though his eyes flash. “And now?”
“That’s no longer true.”
“Was it ever true?” Brian lifts one furry eyebrow, then shakes his head, his jowls wobbling with the movement. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. People have complained about the two of you almost from the moment she started working for us.”
I scowl as Brian tells me about coworkers being offended by innuendo, about all the times I’d touch her when I thought no one was looking, about finding us in a quiet hallway, her back against the wall, my mouth on hers. “And,” Brian says, his eyes locked on mine, “I believe it’s prudent of me to inform you that the elevators in this building have security cameras installed.”
I grind my teeth together. My hands tighten into fists. The thought of some pot-bellied security guard leaning in, his greasy nose pressed against a monitor, eyes wide and leering as he got off watching, it’s gasoline to the fire in my belly. Sarah is mine and that moment belongs to us and no one else.
Brian speaks before I can. “Believe it or not, I was willing to overlook all of it. All of it. You’re a damn good engineer. One of the best. Our company is better because of you and there isn’t a single person here who doesn’t know that. But now, Ms. Carmichael has taken an extended leave of absence. She said she had to go home because of a family emergency, but we have reason to believe she left because of you.”
I let out an abrupt laugh. If that’s what this is about then we’re just a short explanation and a good laugh away from this being behind us. “Let me assure you…”
Brian raises a hand and I trail off. “Bree Marshall explained the conversation she overheard between you and Ms. Carmichael last week.”
Shock stuns me into silence as Brian continues, showing me all the pieces of the puzzle Bree handed him. They fit together so perfectly, just like they did with Sarah, only he doesn’t know me as well as Sarah does. I can’t even begin to refute what he’s saying. Every time I try, he stops me before I can get a word out.
I realize I’m watching my life come undone. This job, the thing I’ve devoted my life to, it’s falling to pieces in front of me, all because one crazy woman decided to…what? What does Bree think she’s doing here? Am I supposed to come running into her arms? Is this some kind of revenge? What the hell is happening?
Brian leans forward and crosses his arms on his desk, the seams of his jacket straining. “It’s ridiculous that I have to sacrifice a brilliant engineer for a receptionist, but given the fact that this is the third time we’ve run into a situation like this with you and a female employee, I’m afraid we have to let you go. McDougan & Kent can no longer afford to be connected to you.”
“Mr. Kent…” I stand. “Brian…” I shake my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know what Bree told you, but that woman is crazy. I love this job and I’m good at this job. Hell, I’m great at this job—”
“That will be all, Mr. Wilde. Please gather your things and vacate the premises. I’ll spare you the embarrassment of being escorted out by security.”
I stand in shocked silence for all of half a second before I spin on my heel and storm out of his office. A weaker man would continue pleading, stating his case over and over.
I am not the kind of man who begs.
Rage propels me straight to Bree. “You got me fired?” I bellow as I come to a stop in front of her.
Color drains from her face as she stares up at me. “What?”
I grip her desk and lean down. “You crazy bitch! You actually got them to fire me? Why? Because I didn’t want to go out with you? What the hell did you think was going to happen?” I push off from her desk, run my hands into my hair, and pace in a tight path. “Are you happy now that you’ve destroyed my life?”
The Wilde boys are fighters and my rage needs a physical outlet, though I’d never dream of hitting a woman. I consider upending her desk. Tossing her stuff to the floor. Punching my fist through the wall.
I pace again, my hands clenched, forcing myself to calm down enough to avoid those mistakes.
Bree sits back in her chair. “I didn’t know they’d fire you.” She shakes her head, looking appalled, her eyes wide with fear and regret.
“Right.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “What is it with you? What did I ever do to you, Bree? What did I do to deserve this?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything.” Bree pushes back her chair and holds out her hands. “I thought they’d fire Sarah.”
“Well, they didn’t.” I slam a hand on her desk and curse. The office falls silent. All eyes land on me. I run my hands into my hair and pull. What am I if I don’t have this job? A failed rancher? A failed engineer?
Just a failure?
There isn’t another firm I’d want to work for, besides, who would hire me after this?
My hands ball into fists and I glower at Bree.
All the times I brushed off her crazy behavior as nothing but an irritation…
Each time I laughed that her quirks were a small price to pay for working in such a forward-thinking place…
I could have complained about her a hundred times but didn’t, and this is how she repays me? This?
By getting me fired?
Security guards scurry through the office, their sights set on me, the crazy man screaming at a woman doing nothing more than sitting in her chair. I spin on my heels and stride into my office.
I snort at the thought.
This office isn’t mine anymore.
I pivot, taking in the books on the shelves, the personal items I have on my desk. How am I supposed to get all of this home now?
I grab a few books and tuck them under my arms as Jason arrives in my doorway, blocking the security guards. “Back off, guys,” he says. “Frank deserves better than this.”
Trish arrives with a box. Hands it to Jason without making eye contact. He hands it to me, his gaze full of I told you so and pity.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” I say.
“Like what? Like I told you to be careful because I could see this coming a million miles away?”
“Don’t talk to me like that, either.”
Jason raises his palms. “Like what?”
“Like you’re better than me.”
“I’m not better than you, Frank. Not by a long shot. But you’re better than this.” Jason shakes his head and turns away.
I fill the box in a daze and find myself on the street in front of the firm.
In the space of an hour, my world has come undone. I’m drowning in questions and uncertainty. Operating on instinct. Overwhelmed with problems I don’t have answers for.
What now?
Will I find another firm willing to take a chance on me after this?
What about Sarah?
Why would she come back to me if I have nothing to give her, no way to support her?
My feet take me across the street before I realize I’ve decided to walk. I push open the door to Derby’s before I can think of a better place to go. I order a drink and sit next to the culmination of my years at McDougan & Kent, all of it sitting on the stool next to me in one small cardboard box. I order a drink and down it without thinking.
“Would you like another?” The bartender surprises me. The question catching me off guard. I pick up my empty glass, the ice sliding to the side, a watered-down layer of whiskey gathering on the bottom.
The answer is no.
It’s always no.
But after only a moment’s hesitation, I slide the glass his way and say yes.