Chapter Seventeen
Julie
One month later…
I stare at my reflection in the glossy red Christmas ball hanging from an artificial tree in front of me. I feel like the warped image pretty well sums up how I'm feeling tonight. Upside down and a little bit swollen.
Behind me, the company Christmas party is in full swing. Music and laughter trickle out of the large dancehall appropriately decked with holly. Since the doors opened, a steady stream of drinks have flown from the open bar, and several of my coworkers seem to be feeling right jolly with themselves – and each other. I haven’t quite managed to get into the festive spirit, however. I've been hoping this party would help get me excited about the holidays, but it seems like the happier everyone around me gets, the sadder and lonelier I become.
Deciding I've probably spent enough time communing with fake nature, I turn and head into the party. Maybe I can get lost in the sparkle and effervescence, and some of the joy will rub off on me, much like the glitter that fell off some of the tree ornaments and now adorns the front of my dress. I tell myself that's just the baby getting all dressed up for Christmas. I'm wearing contacts again for the first time in weeks, thinking it might boost my mood, but when I looked in the full-length mirror at home, I was stunned at how much it seemed to exaggerate the bump. It’s grown rapidly over the last couple of weeks, but it wasn't until I looked in the mirror with my contacts that I noticed just how much bigger it was. It made me realize how very real this is.
And that I need to see the eye doctor for a new glasses prescription.
The cup of ginger ale spiked with cranberry juice in my hand puts me a bit more into a party mood, but not enough to join in the drunken festivities beneath the mistletoe. I look around the rest of the room, and I’m startled to see an old-fashioned train car in the back corner. I approach it slowly, taking in the dull green paint, strands of shimmering icicle tinsel, and fragrant holly and evergreen. As I get closer, I realize there are actual jingle bells attached to the sides. But it's the fact that it’s a train car really caught my attention. What are the chances of going to two parties in my lifetime that have train cars randomly integrated into the theme?
Is it possible the same party planner organized both events?
Once I compare my experience at the party in Pennsylvania to this ordinary work event, it’s pretty clear that isn’t the case. I run my fingertips along the side of the train car. Trains do frequently show up in Christmas decorations – so it's not too outlandish to think Mr. Mills might randomly throw one in. It seems to fit his personality, although his sparkle and whimsy has somewhat lessened in the last few weeks. I walk around the side and find a door like the one at the first party. I climb up on the step, noticing that the holes in the metal are covered, so my heel can’t get stuck again. As I dip into the car, I immediately realize I'm not alone.
"Merry Christmas," Shane says.
I'm so startled, I have to sit down.
"Shane.”
It's more of a gasp than his name, but I can't get my voice under control. He's wearing a black suit with a cream shirt and slick black tie beneath, and diamond cufflinks at his wrists. The gold tint of his skin is slightly paler now that we're in the winter months, but his blue eyes are just as rich and shimmering. The smile on his lips makes my heart flutter, and my hand instinctively goes to Bump.
"Look at you," he says, reaching out to run his hand on my belly.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"Why wouldn't I be here?" he asks. "I threw this party."
"You?" I ask. "I thought Mr. Mills threw this party. Why would you throw a Christmas party for a PR firm in a state you don't even live in anymore? Did one of the reps here used to represent you?"
He grins a little bigger.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, one did. You."
"I don't understand," I say. "What's going on?"
Shane turns his body toward me and takes both of my hands in his. He looks into my eyes, and I feel myself tremble slightly.
"You said you wanted to be independent and not rely on me financially," he says. "So, I made this opportunity happen for you."
It takes a few seconds of thinking through what he said to really understand it. I feel the color drain from my face and stinging heat prick the back of my neck.
"You did this," I say. "You did all of this."
"Yes," he says, nodding.
I tear my hands away from his.
"Oh my god. All of it," I moan. "The job, the car, everything."
He nods again.
"When I heard you didn't actually have a job here, I knew how much it must be hurting you. I figured this must be the place you applied to before you moved to Pennsylvania. I wanted to try to help you in some way, so I got in touch with Mr. Mills. It turns out he's a big fan."
"Of you," I'm assuming.
"Yes."
"You! You're the little birdie who told him what a good job I was doing and recommended me highly. No wonder he didn't want to tell me who you were. So, what? You just walked in here and bartered for me? You'd pay attention to him and make him feel like one of the guys, if he'd give me a job? And what about the maternity leave and the car, and all the other perks? Did you make that happen too?"
The smile has left Shane's face, and he looks confused.
"I thought this is what you wanted," he says. "I thought you'd be happy."
"You thought I'd be happy?" I ask incredulously. "You seriously thought it would make me happy for you to go behind my back and have somebody give me a job as a favor to you?"
"You said you wanted a job."
"No, I said I wanted to be independent. I wanted to stand on my own two feet. That's what I meant. I didn't mean I wanted to look like I was standing on my own two feet, or that I wanted you to get me a job. If I wanted you to buy me a car and pay my salary, I would have just let you take care of me in the first place. How could you do this to me?"
"What do you mean how could I do this to you? I was trying to help you. I thought I was giving you a chance at the life you wanted. I thought it would make you realize how much I care about you. I love you, Julie. I know you didn't want to hear it before, so I was hoping I could make you feel it."
Tears sting my eyes and my heart aches from the twisted, tearing emotions inside. I want to throw myself into his arms and hold him to me, to hear him tell me again that he loves me. But I also want to scream at him and run as far away as I possibly can.
"You know what I feel, Shane?"
"What?"
"I feel manipulated. Humiliated. I feel like a fool. And I feel like right now, I don't want anything to do with you."
Forcing the tears to stay in my eyes so he won’t see them fall, I climb out of the train car and rush back through the party. They're freely rolling down my cheeks by the time I see Mr. Mills in the hallway. He smiles at me as I walk up to him, but I don't react. Instead, I walk directly up to him.
"Thank you for your kindness during these last few months. Even though I know now it was all fake, I do appreciate the extent you went to make me feel welcome. I only wish you hadn't lied to me. I won't be coming back after the holidays. Merry Christmas."
Before he can say anything, I turn and rush out of the building. My car sits in its usual spot in the parking lot, and I almost don't want anything to do with it. When I remember that Shane paid for it and probably put it in my name, I get behind the wheel and drive home. It’s my car, and I can use it. Even my tears and my blurred, overwhelmed mind won't stop me from driving the familiar route. I’m more thankful to be home now than ever.
January
"It's good to hear your voice, Julie."
Curled in my father's chair, I'm so shocked to hear Mr. Slidell on the other line that I can't speak.
"Julie?" he asks. "Are you there?"
"I'm sorry. Yes, I'm here. It's good to hear from you, Mr. Slidell. I hope you had a happy holiday season."
"I did. Thank you."
It's a conversation that should be comfortable, but it feels oddly tense.
"Is there something I can do for you?" I ask after a few awkward seconds.
"Actually, yes. It's about Shane."
I swallow hard. What did he do now? I haven't heard anything about him in the news recently, but that doesn't mean some scandal isn’t brewing behind the scenes. He could have totally undone everything we accomplished together and be on the brink of total implosion by now.
"What about Shane?" I ask. "Is something wrong?"
Mr. Slidell laughs.
"Quite the opposite, actually," he says. "You did an exceptional job with him, Julie. Dozens of companies are scrambling to get him to be their spokesman and offer endorsements. We have new clients piling up. It's more than we can handle."
"That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."
"I am, too," he says with another laugh. "But, frankly, I'm also a little overwhelmed. We're not used to this much work. I'm calling to ask for help."
"You want my help?" I ask, stunned.
"Yes. Is there any way I could get you to come back? I know you said you were going back home for another opportunity, and I've heard you're pregnant. Congratulations."
Awkward.
"Thank you. Both for the congratulations and the offer. To tell you the truth, the opportunity I came here for fell through."
"So, you'll come back?" he asks hopefully.
"Can I have a few days to think about it?"
"Absolutely. I look forward to hearing from you."
********
That evening I'm still curled up in the chair when Joe brings in a cup of the peppermint hot chocolate that Bump’s been craving since before Christmas. I'm hoping he'll get over it soon. It doesn't feel right drinking peppermint hot chocolate after New Year's.
"Have you decided yet?" he asks, perching on the edge of the coffee table in front of me.
I take a sip of the sweet drink, then shake my head.
"Not yet. I don’t really know what to do. I'm torn between my life here at home and back there. I don't want to leave again, but I also don't want to give up on one of my only dreams."
"Julie, look at me."
I look over and see him staring back at me seriously. His chocolate brown eyes remind me of our father, and I have a flashback of Dad giving me advice when I was a little girl.
"What?"
"I know you missed home when you were gone, and I know you worry about me being alone. I appreciate that, and of course, I missed you too. But I'm a big boy, and I can take care of myself. Right now, you don't need to worry about anyone but yourself and that baby. You need to do what's right for the two of you, and I think you know that means going back and taking on an amazing job that you deserve.”
I let out a breath and nod. He's right. I reach for my phone and call Mr. Slidell.
A thought comes to mind as the phone rings.
I'm going to have to try to peel Rubber Duckie off the wall again. Poor little guy.
One week later…
As much as I complained about this place, it actually feels good to be back at my old apartment building. A wave of nostalgia hits me as I step through the glass doors toward Mrs. Livingston's apartment. I haven't called the landlord to ask if I can have my apartment back yet. He never replied a few months ago when I left a voicemail to let him know I was breaking my lease, and I figure it would be better to hype myself up with a visit to my favorite neighbor before I talk to him.
I knock on the door and hear her footsteps slowly shuffle in my direction.
"Who is it?" she calls.
"It's Julie, Mrs. Livingston."
The door flies open, and I see her eyes widen as if she can’t believe I’m actually here.
"Julie!"
"Hi," I say with a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't call."
"You never have to call. You live right next door."
Oh, no. She’s lost it. The end of summer sucked the reality right out of her.
"No, I don't," I say. "Remember? I moved in September."
"You didn't move. You went on a hiatus. I talked to Shane about it. I'm sorry I spilled the beans about you not having a job. I hope I didn't cause you any trouble."
Not at all. Just public humiliation and another exodus from my hometown. No big deal. That’s not her fault, though.
"It's fine. What do you mean I was on a hiatus?"
She takes a step back and gazes at my belly.
"Look at you!" she exclaims. "Moving right along, aren't we?"
"Yeah, I’m in the beginning of my third trimester now. But my old apartment…"
"Oh! Yes." She steps out of the apartment and makes her way over to my old door. "I've been keeping an eye on it for you.”
She looks at me expectantly.
"Don't you have a key?"
"I left it when I moved."
"That's fine. Shane gave me one."
She pulls a long piece of red yarn out of her pocket. She brings the key tied to the end up to the lock on the door, and we step inside. I immediately notice the walls have been repainted, and the water stain on the ceiling – the one I was always worried would fall down on me complete with a bathtub and my upstairs neighbor – has been repaired and repainted.
"Did the landlord actually start doing stuff around the building?" I ask.
"No. Shane did this. He thought you'd like it."
"Shane's been paying for my apartment all this time?"
Mrs. Livingston nods.
"I thought you knew. That's why I didn't mention it any of the times we spoke."
"No," I say. "I had no idea."
Looking around the new and improved apartment, I want to be angry with Shane for going behind my back, again, but I’m grateful. I didn't want to book a hotel for the night, but until now, my only other option was crawling into the back of the small moving truck I rented.
"It looks lovely," I tell her. "Thank you for taking care of it."
"You're welcome." She looks at me again and gives a misty smile. "It's so good to see you. I'm so glad you're home."
"It's good to see you, too."
"Have you called Shane yet?" she asks.
She looks bright and hopeful, but all I can manage is a sad smile.
"No," I say. "Not yet. I don't know if I will. I'm sure he'll find out I'm home soon enough."
"Things between the two of you haven’t gotten any better?"
I shake my head.
"Do you need some tea and a talk?"
I nod again, and she wraps her arm around my shoulders to guide me out of my once-and-current apartment toward hers.