Athena
I walk through my office floor quietly, flicking the light switches as I go. The lights flicker for a while, and then they bathe the whole office, making me squint. It’s late at night, and the whole place is deserted. Just like I need it to be.
These past few weeks have been the most stressful weeks of my life and yet, at the same time, the happiest. Strange how love works, huh? It’s never easy, and you can never take it for granted, but while it lasts… Oh, it’s the most amazing thing in the world.
At least it was for me. And I’m saying was because I’m not sure how things are going to play out from now on. There are a lot of moving parts in this whole situation, and I know that everything’s about to implode… The clock is ticking, and it seems to be ticking faster and faster lately.
And the faster the clock ticks, the faster my mind spins. That’s why I’m here this late at night, walking through my deserted office floor like a ghost. I tossed and turned in bed before I finally gave up on sleep; grabbing my car, I drove all the way here almost unconsciously. Somehow, this place is like my fortress. This is where I feel the strongest, as if my office is an unassailable castle.
I make my way toward my private office at the end of the floor, slide my key in the lock and step inside. Throwing my purse on the couch lining the wall, I then make my way toward the liquor cabinet I keep at the end of the room. From the inside I take an unopened bottle of whisky and pour myself a glass. Despite having a thing for martinis, I’ve never been a heavy drinker, but tonight I feel like a good whisky is exactly what I need.
And, more than a good whisky, I need good music.
With the glass in my hand, I turn to the side and run my hand over the mahogany cabinet I keep there. It’s an old thing and, considering the modern and sleek decor of my office, it kinda stands apart.
This cabinet was my father’s and, after he passed away, I knew I had to keep it to myself. I had it fixed up and painted, and kept all its contents neatly organized over the years. My father was just an accountant, but whenever he was home, he was so much more than that. I used to sit on his lap when I was younger, helping choose the soundtrack for our dinner.
He always kept the cabinet filled with records and, whenever the money permitted, he took me to the store so that I could help him choose something new for us to listen to.
I leaf through the records slowly, the scent of paper and vinyl making me feel as if I’m just a young girl again, sitting across my father’s knees. Closing my eyes, I grab one of the records at random and pull it out.
A black and white Joni Mitchell smiles at me from the cover, and I can’t help but smile back at her. I take the record from inside its sleeve and place it carefully on the record player sitting on top of the cabinet. Turning it on, I then grab the needle and position it very slowly over the dark vinyl.
Joni Mitchell's sweet voice and her piano fill the room in an instant and, still with a smile on my lips, I make my way toward my desk and sit behind it, sinking down on my leather chair.
I close my eyes and take a sip out of the whisky, letting it burn its way down my throat. For a moment, I let the whisky and the music blanket all my thoughts, and it’s a pure blessing—for the first time in weeks, I feel as if there’s nothing to worry about.
Even though my world might be crumbling around me, something inside me tells me it’s all going to be okay.
Opening my eyes with a smile, I then notice something weird on my desk. There’s a piece of paper there, a pen lying across it. I always clean up my desk before I leave, making sure that it’s neat and tidy for the next day, and I don’t remember leaving something like this in here when I left before dinner.
“What the…?” I mutter under my breath, sitting up straight and reaching for the piece of paper. I only need to read the first few words to know what I’m looking at; it’s a declaration of love, the ones my client sign when they finally find what they came looking for.
Love.
With my heart as tight as a fist, I let my eyes fall slowly to the bottom of the page. There, scribbled in a flowing font, is Malcolm’s name.
“No way, he didn’t…” I whisper, not even blinking as I look at his signature. I can’t believe that he really signed this. All he had to do in order to save his company was walk away from me, but he gave up on that… Instead, he decided to risk it all: my investment in his company is barely enough to keep it afloat, and he’ll still be vulnerable.
But, right now, I can’t think of any of that. The only thought echoing inside my head is a simple but loud one: Malcolm loves me.
But love without trust… It’s worthless. Julia’s words come at me out of the blue, and suddenly I find the courage to do what must be done. Whatever the cost.
I love him with all my heart, and knowing that he loves me back … Malcolm deserves to know the truth, all of it.
Standing up, I finish my whisky at once and then walk toward the record player.
“Sorry, Joni,” I whisper as I pull off the needle and stash the vinyl disk inside its sleeve. “I’ll play you again, promise.”
Grabbing my car keys and my purse, I take a deep breath and then head out the door.
It’s time to come clean.